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Chapter 9

The FAA Follies

I have never in my life seen anything as bizarre as the crazy weather of


Oklahoma. I mean in the morning you could have what anyone would call the
perfect day - clear blue skies, warm sunshine and just a very slight breeze. But
how that day would end is anyone's guess. Tornados, dark gray clouds, and
sand storms seem to jump out of nowhere in less than an hour with winds that
will literally push you down the street!

Stranger still was that there seemed

to be no predictable pattern to this weird weather.

In less than a week after

arriving to Oklahoma City, I soon realized why apparently sane people were
all carrying umbrellas on cloudless sunny days!

If not for the Federal Aviation Administration, I probably never would have even
visited Oklahoma. With no disrespect to the good people of Oklahoma, it simply
wasn't on my "must see" list.

But here I was looking for an apartment in


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Oklahoma City where I'd be living for the next year as an air traffic controller
enrolled at the Mike Monroney Aeronautical Institute in Oklahoma City. I was still
amazed that I had made it through the gruelling recruitment process and my
mother was gloating with a mother's pride that her only child was an air traffic
controller.

I had never envisioned being an air traffic controller, and can't recall ever
wanting to be one. To me it was a combination of three things that made me
decide to become an "ATC". First it was the quickest escape route from the
hell of Krome Detention Center and secondly it was one of the highest paying
government jobs one could land. At the time the starting salary was $35,000 and
within three years I could be earning in excess of $70,000. But the third
reason was one of a personal challenge - to see if I actually had the mental
capacity to perform a job that by any standards is difficult, mentally tedious, and
requiring extreme concentration. Some veteran controllers call it the ultimate
video game one can play.

But this video "game" has life or death

consequences and mistakes have to be kept to an absolute minimum. Kings


Creek

apartments

was where

I settled

in OKC,

primarily because of

it's proximity to the academy and a strip mall that had just about everything
I could possibly need including a little restaurant called "Jimmy's Egg"
whose claim to fame was that they had 101 different ways to serve a
plate of eggs.

I seem to recall that I ate about 59 of those plates before I

grew really tired of eggs.

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Ask any pilot Flying an airplane is not difficult. Controlling dozens of them flying through the same
airspace at various speeds, altitudes, and direction is a monumental task. ATCs have the most
stressful jobs in the world and are responsible for the safety of 3 million air passengers every day.

I rented out a three-bedroom apartment and quickly rented out two of the
rooms to two other air traffic controllers

I met and befriended. One was

Phil Dostalik of Jacksonville, Florida who was making the transition from
a naval air traffic controller to a civilian FAA controller. The other was a
fellow from Pawtucket, Rhode
Other than sleeping
together

Island, whose

under the same roof, we did not share

because the demands

books and manuals every single day.

I can honestly say that I never studied so


cannot

memorized,
controller.

imagine
and

most

how

much time

of this A TC academy required us to

bury ourselves in the overly-detailed

One

name I simply can't recall.

intensely

much information

importantly

in
has

my entire
to

- retained to become

be

life.

learned,

an air traffic

But to give you just some idea, consider that there are literally

hundreds of invisible "highways" in the skies called


that criss-cross

each other hundreds

of

time

"vector air routes"

at forty-five

different
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altitudes

on 360 different radials.

Further each vector route has it's own

assigned radio beacon frequency and all them, along with the intersections,
mileage

of the routes, etc. has to be etched

permanently

into the gray

matter of your brain for instant recall upon demand of an instructor and
eventually pilots ferrying

over 6 million passengers

day we were given the most complex map

a day.

On our first

I've ever seen (of all the

vector routes over the Southwest U.S.) and told that we had a month to
memorize

the

exception,

map

and

every student

disbelief.

draw

it completely

that day looked

from

memory.

at one

another

Without
in total

None of us thought that the human brain was even capable of

such an overwhelming task.

But the instructors assured

only possible, but an absolute

requirement

us that it was not

for graduating. This quickly

explained why only twelve percent of us were expected to graduate. An


70% wash-out rate is pretty damn intimidating and was a great motivator
for me.

I am one that has a hard time dealing with failure of any sort, and

I was determined to not only graduate, but I decided that I would strive to
graduate

within the top ten percent of

experienced

my

class.

Having

Phil,

an

military controller as a roommate would give me the advantage

I would need to achieve this goal.

Surprisingly after two weeks of drawing this dreaded map every night, we were
coming to realize that the task was actually possible. As the days past, we would
add more and more details and by day 30, about 70% of us were able to draw
this map without omissions or errors.

Those that couldn't left OKC for home. The rest of us moved on to more
interesting subject matter including meteorology, radio communications, and
learning the rules of separation, the latter of which was especially challenging
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and to me at least - fun. We had to keep imaginary aircraft flying at various


speeds and altitudes vertically separated by a minimum of 1,000 feet and
horizontally separated by 10 miles as they crossed each other's paths.
Instructors started with five or six aircraft and as they monitored our progress
would add more and more aircraft until we crashed a few. Thank God they
were imaginary.

Ultimately we would be skilfully routing over fifty aircraft with

ease. Again, those that couldn't were sent packing.

This is an aviators air vector map that ATCs have to memorize in 3 dimensions a task that takes three
months at the FAA Academy in Oklahoma City.

Our meteorology instructor was a jovial and entertaining man who made
learning fun and interesting. His name was Ace Gardner and I truly enjoyed his
classes and owe my entire knowledge of weather patterns, wx map
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interpretation, and forecasting to his excellent teaching skills.


perfect and we all have character flaws.

But no man is

Ace had his as well, and it was

one that would eventually affect my life and livelihood as an air traffic controller.
Good old Ace was in his early fifties, and although I never knew his
marriage history, he appeared to be a ladies man.
and very well-like by students and staff alike.

He was witty, charming,

I regret that all my college

professors didn't possess his fun teaching skills.

To be sure women air traffic controllers are in a definite minority. By my best


guess, I'd have to say they make up about ten to fifteen percent of all the ATCs.
In my class of some 200 we had less than a dozen.

And by most male

standards three or four them were quite attractive and often times - distracting.
Most of us students were in our early twenties and only a handful were over
thirty years of age. By comparison, all the instructors were in their late 40s, 50,
and 60s. Frankly, most of us were too engrossed in our studies to pursue
relationships, but there certainly were some exceptions.

Since I am not in a position to pass judgment on any of the players in this


particular chapter, I will refrain from naming the girl involved unless she herself
wishes to step forward and comment for herself. For now I will call her by the
fictitious name of Angela Smith.

During the course of our training, several of us students noticed that Angela
was a bit chummy with one of the instructors and the looks and comments
they exchanged left little doubt that some relationship had developed between
them.

A week or so later all doubt was removed when one of our colleagues

spotted Angela in the embrace of the instructor in the hot tub of the airport
hotel.

Although such fraternization was prohibited, none of us really gave a


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hoot and most of us didn't give it a second thought. But those that did feel
obliged to gossip quickly created a trashy reputation for the girl as one who was
sleeping around with instructors in an effort to guarantee her graduation.
Unfortunately, because she did seem to be struggling along in class, this rumor
was an easy one to believe. I felt badly for Angela, but decided to mind my own
business and treated her as I always did - with respect.

I never raised the

subject with her or anyone else, primarily because I myself knew what it felt like
to be wrongly accused, and for all I knew, maybe she was and I assumed her
to be.

But within a week, the rumor was buzzing even amongst staff members at the
academy and there was a noticeable difference in how people were treating this
girl. Judging by here swollen red eyes, I could tell that Angela spent a good
deal of her time crying and I could not keep silent any more.

I felt

compelled to comfort her in some way and all I had to offer were words. So
before class began, I bent over and whispered to her "Not everyone believes the
gossip, so try to just relax and focus on yours studies."
grateful eyes and smiled at me. "Thanks" was all she said.

She looked up with


That would be the

first, last, and only conversation we ever shared.

Only a day or two later, I saw Angela during one of the breaks running
down the hall towards the rest room with tears streaming down her face. "What
happened?" I asked one of her friends. "Shes just upset - every instructor in
the building has been hitting on her lately". I said nothing as I made my way to
my next class.

The very next day was a Friday as I recall some of the students talking
about spending the weekend in Dallas which was just a two hour drive from
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OKC.

It was Ace's meteorology class and I was enjoying it as usual. After it

concluded, I was gathering up my notes when from the corner of my eye I saw
Ace motion Angela to come up to see him. It was an insignificant gesture and I
paid little attention to it. But as Angela walked towards the front of the class to
speak with Ace, she dropped some papers and some of them landed at my feet.
I picked them up and handed them to her and then proceeded to walk away
towards the door when I heard Ace's distinctive voice "Honey, I'd gladly be
willing to trade you a better grade for the pleasure of your company tonight".
As I headed towards the door, I heard Angela tersely reply "No thank you", and
maybe two seconds later I heard a loud crack and I turned around just in
time to see a stunned Ace stroking the side of his reddened face and Angela
storming out the door mad as hell.

Ace and I exchanged glances and

embarrassed, he just shrugged and smiled. She had slapped him hard enough
to leave the red imprint of her hand on the side of his face.

I would learn

later that evening from another student that Angela claimed he pinched her ass
as he made those comments to her. But I had lost interest in the Angela soap
opera and after having a drink with Phil at a local bar, went back to the
apartment to get ready for a date of my own.

I had met a local girl named Dina at a flea market the weekend before.
She was a vendor at the market and she noticed that I was carrying my
motorcycle helmet and struck up a conversation with me about motorcycles.
As it turned out, her ex was a biker. After conversing for almost an hour
we parted ways with a bargain in place. Dina would show me the sights of
Oklahoma City in exchange for a motorcycle ride. I needed a little diversion in
my life from all the tedious bookwork and Dina was just the ticket. She was very
friendly and fun to be with. She made an excellent guide and took me to this
country dance hall which was a real trip for me. I didn't even know there was
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such a thing called a "line dance" or a "Texas Two-Step" yet she had me
doing both before the night was through.

I let her know up front that I wasn't

looking for anything more than friendship and that was cool with her.

We

would get together one more time for lunch before I would leave Oklahoma
City, never to return again. Besides my girlfriend back in Miami didn't
think much of me having female friends

in another part of the world.

After two months of separation she flew out for a two week visit herself
but she grew bored watching me study and compared to Miami, OKC was
a ghost town of sorts, at least to my girl.

ATCs earn over $100,000 per year and need no university degree just great concentration, composure,
and nerves of steel.

The autumn of 82 was closing and was signaled

by an endless carpet

of cloudy gray skies and brisk cold winds blowing in from the prairies.

I
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was doing well in school and managed to stay in the top ten percent of
my class so far with a 92% average. I was pleased with my progress
was looking forward to graduating

in two more months.

I would be sent to my new duty station, which because


language skills, would be back to Puerto Rico.
air traffic controller,

and

As a graduate

of

my Spanish

With the income of an

I could live like a king in Puerto Rico and I looked

forward to getting myself a twenty five acre plot of land in the countryside,
raising some horses again, and doing plenty of scuba diving. Yes, indeed,
my future was looking up and Debbie and I planned to marry.

The fact

that Debbie was a black girl however created a rift between my mother
and I and a few comments in Oklahoma City, which has plenty of Native
Americans but very few black people.

After Debbie came out to visit me I

could sense that I was now the topic of some of that derogatory gossip
Angela had endured.

I ignored it as best as I could and concentrated on

graduating.

But then it happened.

On a freezing cold winter day, my alarm clock failed

to perform its one daily duty and I awoke twenty minutes late. The damn
batteries decided to die at four in the morning.
still make it to class on time.

If I skipped breakfast, I could

A quick glance out the window

parking lot confirmed that Phil's Camaro was already enroute


so

I had

to

call a cab.

Because

into the
to school

of Phil's professional drinking

abilities and frequent "socializing" and regular hangovers, we had long ago
agreed not to wake one another at the risk of personal
Besides

sleeping

in during

a drab Oklahoma

bodily harm.

winter was a real treat.

Having to hail a cab really ticked me off because just two weeks ago I
had bought a used car to contend with the brutal winter months of OKC.
But in selecting this car, I made the fatal mistake of choosing it with my
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heart instead of my brain, a life-long habit that still plagues me today


from time to time. Instead of buying a reliable Chevy or Ford, I bought
the only foreign

car on the

lot, a

1975 Austin

Marina

for three

thousand dollars.

It ran just fine for a month until the water pump failed

and I quickly learned that there wasn't a single Austin dealer in all of
Oklahoma City and even the dealer in Fort Worth, Texas had to special
order the part for me. So after calling for a cab, I shaved, dressed, and
jumped

into some clothes and headed out the door. Cabs in OKC arrive

quicker than anywhere else I've ever been.

Our apartment was up on the second floor and the stairways going down
to the parking lot were concrete and exposed to the elements. In my rush to
catch the cab I saw circling the parking lot like a vulture in search
I forgot that the stairwell

had a tendency

of lunch,

to accumulate snow and ice if

the wind was blowing into the breezeway where

the stairs were

located.

But the second step down quickly reminded me of this fact as my foot
found zero traction and I went flying

through

notebook

and ATC

in different

onlooker

it must

course manuals

the air along

have appeared quite comical.

twelve feet from the ground and

directions.

my

To an

I was at least ten or

instinctively grabbed my head to protect

it from impact that would arrive in a second or two.


had no control whatsoever

with

Not being a gymnast, I

of my clumsy flight and as luck would have it,

I landed squarely on my butt on the edge of the bottom step.

Normally this

might be the best place to land except that the point of impact was my
tailbone

(a.k.a. coccyx). The pain was absolutely e xc r uc i a ti ng and t he

cabbie came to my rescue. With his help I managed to hobble back up


the stairs and debated on whether I should go to the hospital or not.

I was

hoping that the pain would subside and I could still manage to go to class.
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But it didn't.

I ended up phoning into the Academy to explain my plight and

I was excused from class for the day and advised to come see the flight
surgeon at the academy for an examination.

Unfortunately he couldn't see

me that day and I had to make an appointment.

The secretary suggested

that I should just relax and perhaps the pain would fade.

This would be the

first day of any class that I had ever missed and I was worried how much
catch-up I'd have to do since each class was just packed full of new
information to build upon what we already learned.

I concluded that one

day would not set me back too much.

The throbbing

pain soon

in our bathroom

looking

had me digging
for some

aspirin.

through
Luckily

the medicine cabinet


I found

a bottle of

Tylenol three, a potent painkiller that belonged to someone else.

I stole

two tablets from the bottle and retreated to the sofa where I laid on my
side and soon fell asleep.
came home.

I awoke when my Rhode Island roommate

I was relieved to find that the pain had subsided quite a bit

and I assumed that by morning I'd be fully recovered and back at the
academy.

But that evening after cooking up some pasta for dinner I made

an agonizing discovery. The phone rang and I went to sit down on the
sofa to answer it, and YEOOOOWI

It hurt like hell all over again.

I was

okay so long as I stood up and walked around, but it was impossible for me
to sit down on even the bed without a jolt of pain that would throb for ten
or fifteen minutes after I sprung to me feet.

I went into see the flight surgeon which caused

me to miss my second

day of class and after he had some x-rays taken and tenderly probed the
area with his fingers he gave me the following report "For sure your coccyx
is bruised and perhaps you might have a hairline fracture as well.

We just
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can't be sure from this X-ray because the fracture could be on the front
side of your tailbone.
to four weeks.

Either way, you should heal up just fine in about two

In the meantime you have to stay off your

butt".

That

would be impossible I thought since I needed to sit on eight hours a day


during ATC classes and take notes and exams.
be impossible

We concluded

to accomplish that task standing up.

it would

We then agreed that

I might be able to get by with one of those little inflatable inner tubes that I
could sit on.

I went out to the local drug store and bought one. I had

already missed two full days, and I didn't want to miss a third or I'd be really
behind the pack of my peersOn day three I attempted to attend class with
the help of the goofy inner tube
by tailbone
that

but even when

it was fully

inflated,

still managed to just touch the top the seat surface and even

slight contact

caused

bursts

of extreme

pain that quickly

grew

unbearable.

I consulted with the flight surgeon yet again and he ordered me to take a
week

off.

disadvantage

A week

away from

class would

surely

put me at a major

and for the first time I thought I would be so far behind the

eight ball that I might not graduate.

I was worried sick.

But then I got a bit of good news from a Mr. John Buzan who worked in the
Administration office.

He told me that I was not the first student who had to

miss classes for medical reasons and

I would certainly not be the last.

He told me that the FAA had contingency plans for just such cases and that
their policy was to "recycle" any student who missed more than five days of
classes. Recycling meant that I would be pulled from my graduating class
and be reinserted into the class behind ours at the same point in training
where I was forced to drop out. I assumed that this would just be a week or
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two at the most, but learned from John that the next class had just started
and it would be at least 68 days before I could be inserted into that class.
What would I do for 68 days I asked?

"Try to stay current on what you

already learned and pretend you're a tourist for a few weeks" was his reply.
I had little choice

but to take his advice. Thank

God my salary continued

because my previous seniority working for Uncle Sam gave me the right to
collect sick pay.

Within a week I was bored and growing depressed.

There r e a lly is not

much to see and do in Oklahoma City and my ass was still sore. Luckily we
had cable TV and I discovered a lot of channels I never knew even existed
and my sanity managed to remain intact.

I would study two hours of every

day, reviewing all that I had learned to date and kept drawing that damn
map so I wouldn't forget it. Even today, more than ten years later, I am still
able to draw that map! I sent for Debbie and she joined me for some
time together.

I really grew homesick for Miami.

After experiencing an

Oklahoma winter, most any other place in America would be a welcome


change.

One

I truly felt like a bear in hibernation that winter.

morning

the phone

partner?" he asked.

rang.

It was John

Buzan.

"I'm good to go John" I replied hoping that he found

another slot for me somewhere sooner than 68 days.


reason

for his call.

"How ya feeling

'Hey Gorcyca,

But that was not the

I need to speak

with you about

something, and I was hoping you could stop by my office this

afternoon".

"Sure

and I went

no problem"

I replied.

We

made

an appointment

back to eating my Cheerios, puzzled as to what the meeting could be about.

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Yet another 3D airspace map that must be memorized by pilots to guarantee separation between
commercial, military, and civil aircraft.

That

afternoon

when

I visited

John's

office

at the academy

he

ushered me into an office that wasn't his and closed the door behind e. He
had a serious

look on his face and I was curious as hell as to what was

going on. After asking

me to sit down he stroked

his jaw a bit and then

asked me "Are you good friends with Angela Smith?" he asked. "Not really,
why?" I asked thinking that she must have had an accident or something.
But instead of answering my question he had a list of his own.

"When

was the last time you spoke with her? "Months ago, why?" "Did you
ever date her?"

"No".

After a long awkward silence, John looked at me

and said "Are you aware she listed you as a witness?"


what?"

"A witness to

I asked totally confused by this verbal exchange. "So

you aren't a witness after all - good! The little bitch is lying!"
"A witness

to what Mr. Buzan?"

accused one of our instructors


I immediately recalled
about

I asked again.

"Oh the

he blurted.
little cunt

of sexual harassment" was his reply and

that day in meteorology

that incident with Ace Gardner?"

I asked

class.

"Are you talking

innocently.

Buzan just
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glared at me and
"You were there?"

I could see my words


I just nodded.

had upset greatly

"What did you see?"

upset him.

When I recalled

the incident from my memory John just rocked back in his chair, let out a
long sigh, and stared up at the ceiling for over a minute.

Finally he leaned

forward in his seat and asked me "Do you like paperwork Gorcyca?" "Not
especially"

I replied.

"Good -

neither

do I, so between you me and

these walls let's agree here and now that you never saw any such thing
okay?"

I was so shocked by what he said that

away.

As I searched

for words

I couldn't

answer

right

he explained further "Ace is a well-

liked veteran instructor around here and we're not going to let some horny
tramp ruin his reputation and cost him a pension".

I finally found a few words, but they might not have been the ones that
John Buzan wanted

to

hear "Look

Mr. Buzan, I like Ace quite a bit

myself but if you're asking me to lie for him, I won't do it". Buzan then slid
a pre-typed form in front of me as he tried to persuade me to "just sign it".
"I'm not asking you to lie for anyone

Gorcyca,

I'm just

asking

you to

sign this paper and the subject is closed and will never be raised again.
As I read the incident report form it was supposedly completed by me and
merely stated "I have

no recollection

of any misconduct

of any FAA

instructor including Ace Gardner towards any female student(s)."


very uncomfortable
considering

being

that John

put

Buzan

recycle me back into training.


right - it would be a lie.

in
came

this
to

awkward
my rescue

position
and

I felt

especially
offered

to

But I knew that signing that form would not be

So I did what m y father always did hen asked to

settle a family dispute "Let me sleep on it John".

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He was clearly disappointed with my decision not to decide there and then, but
he gave me a self -addressed stamped envelope and handed it to me with
the form. "Fine, just get this back to me in the mail within the next ten days".

nodded again and made my way to the door. As I opened it, he made one last
remark that in hindsight, I should have paid more attention to, "Gorcyca, you owe
me this favor partner". Maybe in his mind I did. But from my viewpoint he was
just doing his job in recycling me. After all, he did say that recycling was a
standard FAA "policy"

As I walked down the hallway, I tore the envelope

and form in half and dropped them into the first trashcan I passed on my way out.
There was no way that I could ever let myself sign that paper, and now I was
curious as to what new developments between Ace and Angela had taken place
in my absence. At first I thought about looking her up to find out but then after
second thoughts, decided it would be best to just distance myself from the mess.
Sure enough, some ten days later I got a follow-up call from John Buzan asking
me if I forgot to mail him that form. "No John, I didn't forget to mail it in - I
decided against it.

I really don't want to get involved and I'm not going to lie

for anyone". "I see" was all he said before saying good-bye. I recall that I was
perhaps about 20 days or less from resuming my training at this point in
time.
Jacksonville

Phil was graduating this week and would


next week.

be returning to

My Rhode Island roommate had failed some of his

exams and washed out of the program. He was already on a Greyhound bus on
his way home.

I spent the next few days trying to recruit new roommates

to take their places and help me defray the costs of the apartment.

Perhaps a week after I got that last call from Buzan, I received a form letter from
the flight surgeon's office saying that he determined that "due to my injuries" I
would be disqualified from further service as a radar center ATC since it
required long periods of sitting behind a radar screen.

It was

his
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recommendation that I be reassigned to a non-radar center position or


terminated since I was still under their "probationary employment".

I noticed

that a copy of the letter was copied to "J. Buzan". It didn't take me more than
two minutes to see the writing on the wall.

I immediately headed for Buzan's

office with his letter in hand, but the receptionist said he was "too busy" to see
me. I made an appointment for the following day.

When I returned to Buzan's office he coyly asked me if I was there to sign his
form.

In reality he knew damn well why I was there and I handed him the flight

surgeon's letter. He played right along shaking his head

"This is terrible news

Gorcyca - I'm so sorry". I stood there biting my lip wondering what sort of letter
they sent to Angela. "What can you do about this Mr. Buzan?" I asked only to
be told that my employment was no longer in his hands as an "administrative"
matter and emphasized that it was now a "medical" matter.

I would play his

game for now and so I casually inquired "Okay then, what other non radar center
positions are open?"

knowing that there had to be at least a handful. But the

only two jobs that he said were open were called FSS positions (Flight Service
Station) and one was in Anchorage, Alaska and I seem to recall the other was
somewhere in Maine.
no intention of

Both were lower pay grade positions as well. I had

relocating to

anywhere that

had a winter

after

being

completely spoiled by my years in Puerto Rico and Miami. "This is about Angela,
isn't John?" I asked unable to remain silent any longer. "I don't know what you're
talking about Gorcyca, but if you want to reconsider signing that form, I might
be inclined to speak with the flight surgeon on your behalf first thing in the
morning". Now a rage was building up inside of me and I knew I had to get out
of that office quickly before I blew up on the guy".

"Have a great day John" I

mumbled as left his office.

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The military has their own ATCs and their control zone extends from 50,000 feet to the edge of space.

By the time I had gotten back to the apartment, Phil had left me a note on the
refrigerator that John Buzan had called. Still furious, I picked up the phone and
gave John a call. "I got a message that you called John".

"Yes Gorcyca, I was

just calling to see how you wanted to resolve this little problem?" he asked.
I didn't

hesitant in responding. "Well John,

I don't handle ultimatums very

well so I hope you will keep your word and recycle me as you promised to do
two months ago." He openly laughed for a few seconds and then told me "You
either drag your butt down here to sign those papers or start packing for Alaska
or Maine."

It took me less than fifteen seconds to make my choice as

gave him my answer "Hey John, go to hell".

The next day I typed up a letter of resignation citing "personal reasons" and
delivered it personally to the director of the academy and dropped
copy at John Buzan's office.

off a

My water pump for the Austin arrived the

following day, and within 72 hours, I was driving back to Miami as an angry
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man but having the personal assurance that I did the right thing under the
circumstances,

and doing the right thing has always been a priority for me.

Those nuns at St. Charles did their job maybe a little too well. My mother
berated

me for quitting especially

academically.

since

I had been doing so well

But over the years she came to realize that if I had to play

those sort of games at the FAA on a regular basis, I would have been
miserable.

I always wondered what ever became of Angela and if she

even knows why I left the FAA. I'm sure they must have played a few
games with her as well.

But my stay in Oklahoma City would become worthwhile and most memorable to
me for yet an incident that had no bearing on my ATC Training.

During my

medical leave period, I grew bored and frankly, unless you like drinking and line
dancing, there was not a whole lot to do for fun. I decided one night to go shoot
some pool (billiards) and finally found a bar that had one. It was full of most
native Indians and a handful of what I presumed to be ATCs. The pool table was
fairly new and regulation size and I ordered a drink and put my pack pack down
on a table. I then put my quarter up the pull table and noticed there were about
five players waiting ahead of me. I was not sure if wed be playing for money but
was not worried about it. I usually won anyway my duty nights in the Coast
Guard gave me ample time to perfect my skills.

As I sat down, I noticed a guy sitting next to me in lightly-tinted sunglasses, the


mark of a radar center controller whose eyes become sensitive to light over the
years. I introduced myself and he said he was Phil Phil Schneider. When I
asked him what radar center he was attached to, he chuckled , and just said,
one that didnt exist. I was not sure what he meant by that, but before I could
ask, he simply said Im not a controller friend. Im an engineer of sorts. Why
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the sunglasses? I asked. Because I spend most of my time underground


inspecting tunnels and my eyes are a bit light sensitive these days.

I was

curious but did not want to be too nosey What kind of tunnels like subways? I
asked. He smiled and just said Sort of. I was not aware of any subway system
in Oklahoma City and asked if they were building one.

Phil saw that I was

seeking an explanation and apparently wanted to end the conversation. Im


doing some work for the military here and they want to build an nationwide air
control center underground with a back up facility in Denver. So Im here to do
an assessment. He remarked before he ordered another drink. I glanced over
to the pool table and saw my turn was still a bit away. Wow, that will be one hell
of a tunnel from OKC to Denver I said No big deal. There are longer ones that
that. When I asked how they made these tunnels, Phil described some huge
cylindrical boring machine that was about 40 feet in diameter with a face that
had hundreds of diamond-edged carbide steel cutting wheels that could burrow
through the Earth and rock at more than 3 miles per day. It sounded all so
amazing to me. I remarked that it sounded like a very expensive operation and
asked why they just didnt use surface trains. The military has their reasons and
we are not supposed to know there business son is what he said.

Then as to change the subject, he said Have you ever seen a UFO? When I
replied that I had and in fact might have seen two, he seemed surprised and
asked me to tell him about it. I explained how I had seen a rather huge one in
Puerto Rico fly over Ramey AFB, and how I thought I saw another one at sea,
but could not be certain what it was, but that it maneuvered in such a crazy way, I
assumed it was nothing known to man. Then he asked me to start describing the
maneuvers and when I did, he assured me matter of factly, that the second
sighting was also a UFO. Wow, this was one of the first guys I met in the world
who did not poke fun at me when I said I saw a UFO! His attitude made me
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curious so I asked him Have you ever seen a UFO Phil? His swished his drink
around in his glass, paused, and then simply said, quite a few my friend. Again
he said it with such conviction, I could not doubt him, so I pursued the
conversation So you think theres life out there huh? Without a doubt son
was his reply.

Just then his pager went off. As he glanced at his beeper his face became a bit
serious and then a scowl. Fortunately there was a pay telephone on the wall
about 10 feet from our table and he immediately went to use it. I could not help
to hear his side of the conversation and I heard him say Look Colonel rank is
no indication of intelligence. You can listen to me or follow-orders whatever you
like. But Im telling you that when it comes to the Grays, the good general has
his head up his ass. We need their help and cooperation and what you just
proposed will destroy my last three years of progress. If you have to use a torch,
fine but no gas do you understand? The other party then must have talked for
about a minute before P hil finally said Well, then Colonel, please leave me out of
your incident report, and if my name shows up in there, be damn sure that I am
on record as opposing any physical violence or pepper spray am I clear? He
then slammed down the phone in anger. He came back to the table extremely
agitated. Problems at the office? I joked trying to calm him down. He said
nothing at first and guzzled down his drink. I have an ignorant asshole for a
boss. He tried to explain. Theyre everywhere, but calm down guns and
bullets are both quite affordable I joked again. He was still clearly pissed off.
Put a star on someones shoulder and they think they automatically transform
into a fucking genius! is all he said before he stood up, grabbed his coat of the
chair, slapped a $20 bill on the table and strode out the door too consumed
with his thoughts to even say good bye. I could not decipher what just happened
but I could summarize that Phil was clearly an intelligent guy, sincerely steamed
161

about something that occurred and some Colonel was stuck in the middle of a
dispute.

Beyond that I could not grasp what transpired and I assumed the

grays were some reference to a team like the reds ad the blues. Maybe a
team of engineers I thought.

Anyway, it didnt concern me I had my own

problems to deal with.

On the chair next to him, Phil had left a brochure from Harris Corporation and
inside the brochure a few names and telephone numbers were scribbled. At this
time, I cannot recall the details but the brochure was about some ultrasonic
electronic devices and crowd control, frequency jamming, and perimeter
security. All of this made me curious at the time, but nothing more. Hey shorty
youre up! I heard some call from the pool table.

I played five games, earned $25 and then called it a night. I gave the brochure to
the barmaid and told her to hold it in case a guy named Phil came back looking
for it. She smiled and nodded.

My short and temporary friendship with Phil Schneider lasted all of maybe 45
minutes and I really did not know what to make of it all. It would be more than a
decade later that I would ever hear the name Phil Schneider mentioned again.
When I did, I almost fell out my chair. I was reading about an airline pilot who
reported a near miss with a UFO and

when I did a google search on UFO

aviation technology (I was curious how these craft could maneuver so well
without the issues of lift or drag traditional aerodynamics) and saw some
reference in a post to a man named Phil Schneider who was murdered. Could it
be the same guy? As clicked on all the links I finally came across one that had
his photo a bit older but not by much. It was the same man. I wont ruin your
surprise so just Google on your own Phil Schneider, UFOs, murder and see
162

what this man really did for a living and what his wife has to say about his strange
death. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that Phil Schneider was quite
sane, very intelligent, and a credible man.

The funny thing


ignorant

about all my FAA training

bliss about air travel.

is that it shattered

Before attending

those classes

my

I never

thought twice about flying and didn't even know what a "near-miss" was.
Now I know there are dozens of these "near-misses"

every single day

and

Yes indeed,

skies

I never take any flight for granted


are still safer than our

heavily-dependent
frequency.

most stressed.

the

but air traffic control is so

on some ancient computers that go down with growing

aircraft in their head.

retrospect,

highways,

Even the best controllers

least-appreciated

these days.

can't keep track

Air traffic controllers

government

employees

are probably

of a thousand
one

of the

in America and certainly the

Our very lives are in their hands on a daily basis and in

I'm glad the ATC recruiting process

training so rigorous.

Our ai r traffic controllers

was

so fussy and the

are the very best of the

best, and that's the way it should be.

Copyright 1995-2014 By Bruce A. Gorcyca All Rights Reserved

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