‘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 !