So I loaded up my red Mazda MR-2 with all of the things I would need for 2-3 months in Oklahoma and I started driving at the beginning of March 1991. I was feeling pretty good. I was slim and muscular and looked great. No one at the Academy had ever known me any other way, so I could have a fresh start. When I arrived in Oklahoma City, the first thing I did after I found an apartment to rent, was to join Gold’s Gym. I was petrified of getting fat again and I wanted to keep up my sleek new body. I quickly made friends with several of the other trainees from New England and just waited for the Academy to begin.
If you have never been to the Air Traffic Control Academy it is almost impossible to describe just how intense and exhausting it is. I was the first class that was there to test their new “computer screening” of ATC candidates. They eventually wanted to replace the 9 week screen of new applicants with a one week computer screen. So my class spent the first week just doing computer games all day long. All of our test scores were collected, although we weren’t told how well we did at the time. It wasn’t bad and I was feeling pretty good that first week.
But then the real screen began. The first four weeks were Academics. We spent eight hours a day taking copious notes on the rules of Air Traffic Control. We filled up notebook after notebook. But every night when I got out of class, while everyone else went to their apartments to have study sessions, I went to the gym first. I had never been in such good shape. When I did have study sessions with my friends I always tried to convince them that if a person got something wrong they should have to drop and do push-ups. I could do lots of push-ups. I was even doing handstand push-ups against the wall. I was bench pressing 80 pounds most of the time and while I was in Oklahoma I increased it to 100 and even hit a high of 115.
I remember one day at the gym there was a woman there who was brand new and I could tell she was really confused. So I asked her if I could help. She asked me how to do a couple of exercises and I showed her and then spotted her while she did them. While I was helping her one of the staff came up to check on her to see how she was doing. She told him that I was helping her. He turned to me and said, “Yeah, I’ve seen you here before, do you compete?” I actually burst out laughing, but to this day that is the best compliment I’ve ever gotten. And perhaps I should have considered training to compete because it might have made me more conscientious about continuing once things went wrong.
A couple of weeks into Academics, I got the flu. I had a high fever and could barely stand. I knew how dangerous it was to miss classes, but I couldn’t get out of bed. I called in sick and I could hear it in the instructor’s voice that he wasn’t pleased. I missed the next day as well, and his voice got even more grave. On the third day I got up and took a shower because I knew I couldn’t miss any more. But while I was in the shower I kept having to lean against the wall to remain upright. Finally, I realized that there was no way I could do it and if I kept trying I’d just make myself worse. So, once again I called in sick. I could tell by his voice that he’d completely given up on me by that time. He told me that when I came back in on Monday I would have to go to the administration to get permission to continue. I was petrified. It was a very long weekend.
On Monday, I showed up in the office and was told that they were relatively certain that I could never come back from missing three days of academics and so they wanted to recycle me. What they meant by recycle was that I would leave and come back and start again with the next class. But I had quit my job in order to go to the Academy and I had no other means of support other than the per diem check I was getting from the FAA. I told them I did not want to be recycled and I could pass Academics no problem. They insisted that in order to continue I would have to sign a waiver saying that if i failed I would have no recourse against them. I signed the paper and headed off to class, and for the first time that afternoon I skipped the gym and headed over to a classmate’s room to get the notes and start studying right away. I did manage to pass the next test, although it was the lowest grade I got in Academics, somewhere in the 80’s, but prior to that I’d gotten all A’s. I managed to do well enough in Academics that I only needed a low score like a 50 or 60 on the final test, so that took some pressure off, but still I didn’t go back to the gym. I was maintaining my weight quite nicely and I felt like I could afford to take some time off from the gym.
Then the labs started and the terror ratcheted up even more. We had practice labs where you had to put all of the new academic rules you’d learned into practice. But the days of the graded exams were horrible. You plugged in your headset and one of your classmates acted as a remote pilot and kept calling with different requests for different aircraft. The grader stood behind you listening to every word and marking down any mistakes. Anything below a 70 was failing and one separation error was minus 15. If the instructor didn’t like the way you said something it was a phraseology error which I think were one or two points off apiece. There were other errors but I think I’ve deliberately forgotten them. The thing with a separation error was that even when a plane caused a separation error with another plane it still kept flying and could continue to cause more separation errors down the road. Two separation errors in a problem and you flunked.
I remember my first graded problem. When it ended I turned around and looked at the instructor and he asked me how I thought I did. I was sure I’d screwed everything up and he laughed and told me I got a 90. I was shocked. I felt a bit better until the next one when I think I got a grade somewhere in the 50s. Then I got another high grade. It seemed to go back and forth like that. All of the grades from academics and all of the graded labs were averaged together and at the end we were given a final written test and each of us were told exactly what we would have to get on that test in order to pass. I think I needed a 70 or something like that and so I could breathe a little easier than those that had to get a 90 or higher. I managed to pass with an overall score of 84. Not high enough to get honors, but high enough that there was no doubt I passed.
I had several friends who missed the passing grade by 1/2 or 1 point. As soon as you didn’t make it, and you had no valid reason why you should be able to take a retake, you were sent into this room and held there for your debriefing and release paperwork. I remember a friend telling me about a guy I knew who had been a controller in the Air Force for several years and he failed with a 69.5. He had an automatic retake coming to him if he wanted it, but he refused. My friend said that he was miming calling his Dad and saying, “Hi Dad, I’m a loser.” It was not a fun time.
Once we passed we were there for follow-on training for whatever particular type facility we were to be assigned to. I had been selected at Groton Tower in Connecticut so I went to Tower follow-on. But all of the pressure was off. The follow-on classes weren’t really graded and so everyone could relax. To me this meant more time going out to dinner and having drinks with friends and doing karaoke for the first time in my life. I had been back to the gym a couple of times, but I had already lost some of my strength. I just couldn’t force myself to get back into the every day groove I’d been in before. My clothes were still fitting and I was enjoying my new found freedom. But I was also starting to make some poor choices where food was concerned and the little voice in the back of my head said I’d better watch out or I’d ruin all of my hard work.