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‘Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the
ramp,
Not an airplane was stirring, not even a
Champ.
The aircraft were fastened to tie downs with
care,
In
hopes that come morning, they all would be there.
The fuel trucks were nestled all snug in their
spots,
With gusts from two-forty at 39 knots.
I slumped at the
fuel desk, now finally caught up,
And settled down comfortably, resting my
butt.
When the radio lit
up with noise and with chatter,
I turned up the scanner to see what was the
matter.
A voice clearly heard over static and
snow,
Called for clearance to land at the airport
below.
He barked his
transmission so lively and quick,
I’d have sworn that the call sign he used was “St.
Nick”.
I
ran to the panel to turn up the lights,
The better to
welcome this magical flight.
He called his
position, no room for denial,
“St, Nicholas One, turnin’ left onto
final”.
And what to my wondering eyes should
appear
But a Rutan-built sleigh, with eight Rotax
Reindeer!
With vectors to
final, down the glideslope he came,
As he passed all fixes, he called them by
name.
“Now Ringo! now Tolga! Now Trixi and
Lincoln!!
On Comet! On Cupid!” What Schnapps was he
drinkin’?
Those controllers
were sittin’, and scratchin’ their head,
They phoned to my
office, and I heard it with dread.
The message they left was both urgent and
dour:
“When Santa pulls in, have him please call the
tower.”
He landed like
silk, with the sled runners sparking,
Then I heard “Left
at Charlie” and “Taxi to parking.”
He slowed to a taxi, turned off of
three-oh,
And stopped on the ramp with a
“Ho-ho-ho-ho!”
He stepped out of
the sleigh, but before he could talk,
I ran out to meet
him with my best set of chocks.
His red helmet and goggles were covered with
frost,
And his beard was all blackened with reindeer
exhaust.
His breath smelled
like peppermint, gone slightly stale,
And he puffed on a
pipe, but he didn’t inhale.
His cheeks were all rosy and jiggled like
jelly.
His boots were as black as a cropduster’s
belly.
He was chubby and
plump, in his suit of bright red,
And he asked me to “fill it, with hundred low lead.”
He came
dashing in from the snow covered pump,
I knew he was
anxious for drainin’ the sump.
I spoke not a
word, but went straight to my work,
And I filled up the sleigh, but I spilled like a
jerk.
He
came out of the restroom, and sighed in relief,
Then he picked up
the phone for a Flight Service brief.
And I thought as
he silently scribed in his log,
These reindeer could land in an eight-mile
fog.
He
completed his pre-flight, from the front to the rear,
Then he put on his
headset, and I heard him yell, “Clear!”
And laying a finger on his push-to-talk,
He called up the
tower for clearance and squawk.
“Take taxiway Charlie, the southbound
direction,
Turn right three-two-zero at pilot’s
discretion.”
He sped down the
runway, the best of the best,
“Your traffic’s an RJ, inbound from the
west.”
Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed thru the
night,
“Merry Christmas to all!!! We have traffic n
sight.”
Author
unknown…
Merry Christmas to all
!
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