//------------------------------//
// Laugh Yourself A While 
// Story: Coinky-Dink World 
// by Split Scimitar 
//------------------------------//

KOPF MIA6.WINCO LLAKE J85 INPIN J91 ATL J89 BVT PERCY.SODOR6 KSMG

“Opa Locka Clearance, Smile 5280, IFR to Gusty Garden.”

“Smile 5280, cleared to the Chicago Gusty Garden airport via as filed, cross WINCO at or above 10,000. Miami Departure frequency 119.45, squawk 1760.”

“Cleared to Gusty Garden as filed, WINCO at or above 10,000. Miami Departure 119.45,  squawk 1760, Smile 5280.”

“Smile 5280, readback correct. Ground 120.025.”

“5280.”

Area clear. Engines start.

3 alight! Stable, temps good.

Flaps 15 for takeoff.

“Opa Locka Ground, Smile 5280, Atlantic, taxi IFR.”

“Smile 5280, Opa Locka Ground, information X current, wind 100 at 9, altimeter 30.01. Runway 9L, taxi via E N.”

“Copy X, E N, runway 9L, Smile 5280.”

As we taxi, I find Pinkie asleep with her headset on, so I decide to isolate my radio.

“Opa Locka Tower, Smile 5280 short of 9L, Ready for Departure.”

“Smile 5280, Opa Locka Tower. On departure fly heading 093, runway 9L, cleared for takeoff.”

“Cleared for takeoff 9L, 093 on departure, Smile 5280.” And arming the autopilot, I gently edge the throttles forward.

80 knots.

V1

Rotate.

V2

Positive rate, gear up.

Flaps up.

“Smile 5280, contact Departure.”

“Over to Departure, talk to you soon, Smile 5280.” “Miami Departure, Smile 5280 off Opa Locka, 1,900 for 10,000.”

“Smile 5280, Miami Departure. Turn left direct WINCO, remain clear of Fort Lauderdale Class C airspace, climb and maintain 10,000.”

“Left Direct WINCO, 10,000, remain clear of Lauderdale, Smile 5280.”

“Smile 5280, contact Miami Center, 134.75.”

“34.75, Smile 5280.” “Miami Center, Smile 5280, 9,200 for 10,000.”

“Smile 5280, Miami Center, climb and maintain FL220.”

“220, Smile 5280.”





50.

40.

30.

20.

10.

Touchdown. Spoilers up, brakes on, 3 in reverse.

Standard route to A1. Clean up, call up, wake up Pinkie.

“Wow, that was fast.”

“You’ll remember that my airport is in Peotone. I’ll cover your tolls and I’ll drive if you want me to.”

“Yay.” She responds with just as much vigor as when we left Miami.

After we park, I shut everything down, call the jetway by Bluetooth control, and hook up ground power. When Pinkie follows me down the jetway, we back her car out and brim the tank before exiting through the garage, where Pinkie turns on the radio as I keep my EarPods handy in case of any unexpected calls. I then check to see that I have plenty of pocket change. Pinkie then reaches into her hair and pulls out a little jar.

“I’ve gotchu.” She responds as she shakes it to rattle the coins inside.

“You really are an Illinoisan.”

“Well, duh!”

“More so than me. I only spent the first 2 years and 10 months of my life in Illinois before we moved to California. I’m a Californian from Chicago. You’re Illinois born and raised.”

“Eh, fair enough. But your knowledge of the city is very abundant.”

“That’s because of my pride. And if you know a Filipino, that pride carries well beyond being Filipino. I have a stronger connection to Chicago than most. Though that may just be my own personal biases getting in the way.”

“That’s still pretty cool. I don’t have that feeling with either Rockford or Miami, but I do love where I live.”

“Fun-loving, tropical climate, great place to be. Yeah, there’s the pretty good hurricane from time to time, but overall?” I ask.

“Probably wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.”

“How ‘bout it.” I respond as she adds power for the interstate.

Plenty of tolls later, we reach the Pie rock farm, where in one of the garages, Pinkie reveals two midsize trucks, a White Tacoma TRD Pro, license plate ‘MMM HMMM’, and the Frontier she had in Chicago, license plate ‘BOULDER’. There’s a third space in the garage, but it’s empty.

“Nice trucks they’ve got there. Especially that TRD Pro.”

“That’s my twin sister Marble’s. She’s just a few minutes younger than me.“

“Well then. What’re’ya looking for?”

“Found it!” Pinkie exclaims as she pulls a tarpaulin off a trailer with something very large and strange looking.

“Is that…?”

“My party cannon!!”

“What’s it doing here?”

“I stopped using it after one of my parties got shut down before it was time.”

“Hmm. Police raid?”

“Yep! Busted a dealer. But now I can bring it back! You know how to hitch up a trailer?”

“4-pin or 7?”

She only smirks at me and tosses her keys. “Bring her back here.”

I do as told. Soon enough, the trailer is hooked up, we do the brake and signal tests, and Pinkie does some arbitrary speed tests. Onto I-90 we go.

Careful not to exceed 65, unusually high for a trailer of its weight, plenty of tolls, fortunately manned, do little to her jar, but when we reach Veterans, I cover this portion much to Pinkie’s surprise. Given that we have strange and mysterious cargo, some of the booth attendants give us strange looks, but seem to be okay with the simple “confetti cannon.”

In no time, we reach the airport, so I file and do the preflight. I guide pinkie onboard and position it to best fit the CG as best as possible, so once we secure the load, Pinkie jumps into the right seat and grabs the yoke, pretending she’s a fighter pilot by clicking the A/P disengage and going “pew, pew, pew!”

I chuckle as I head out to do my walk-around. No anomalies to report, I disconnect the jetway, turn on the APU, open the garage, and push her back. After I run back onboard, I start the engines after I check to see if Pinkie messed with anything. Fortunately, she didn’t, so we soon get going. Airborne ahead of schedule, we should expect holds closer to Opa Locka for flow into both FLL and MIA.

Sure enough, our whole IFR Clearance gets thrown out the window as we descend into the thick of South Florida airspace.

“Smile 5280, hold west of OKANE, 2,500. Maintain 170 knots, EFC 35 minutes.”

“Hold as published at OKANE, 2,500, 170 knots, 35 minutes EFC, Smile 5280.” “Well, looks like we’ll be holding for a while.”

“Why?”

“Flow control. They’re metering into Laudermare and Mareami.”

Pinkie then looks at me then bursts into laughter. “Did you just say Laudermare and Mareami?”

“Yeah. They both have flow control in effect. They’re metering traffic, which for whatever reason we’re caught in the crossfire, being situated between the two.”

“Wouldn’t we be out of their way?”

“I guess, but we’re over an approach fix for Opa Locka specifically. No idea why we have to hold for them.”

Just a few seconds later, it all makes sense.

“Smile 5280, sensitive Coast Guard operations at Opa Locka. The airport is closed at this time. Understand no alternate filed, so where would you like to divert?”

“Smile 5280, we’ll need a runway with a minimum of 6,500.’”

“Smile 5280, roger. Say fuel.”

“3 hours, Smile 5280.”

“Smile 5280, roger.”

“Smile 5280, actually, we can go to Boca.”

“What’s going on?” Pinkie asks.

“Smile 5280, roger. Stand by.” ATC responds.

“Coast Guard closed Opa Locka for a training exercise.” I say to Pinkie. “We can’t get into Miami or Lauderdale because they’re metering traffic, so we’re diverting to Boca.”

“Hmm.” She responds as she stares out the window.

“Smile 5280, cleared to Boca Raton airport via direct Fort Lauderdale, then radar vectors to KISEC. Climb and maintain 3,000. Opa Locka altimeter 30.04.”

“30.04 at Opa Locka, cleared to Boca via Fort Lauderdale, Radar vectors to KISEC, climb and maintain 3,000, Smile 5280.”

“Smile 5280, readback correct. Proceed direct Fort Lauderdale.”

“Direct Lauderdale, Smile 5280. Confirm RNAV GPS RWY 23 at Boca?”

“Smile 5280, affirmative.”

“Roger, 5280.”

Short runway, we’ll have to land with flaps 50. Set flaps 15 below max permissible airspeed.

“Ooh. Pilot stuff! Let me help, let me help!”

“Okay then…” I respond hesitantly. “Hold this.” I say handing her my iPad, which already has the approach plate. “Let me configure the autopilot and then I’ll walk you through what I want you to do.”

“Okie dokie, Loki!”

Altitude 3,000, speed 180 knots in prep for Vref. Flaps 15. Approach brief. “iPad please. Follow along with me, Pinkie.” I say as she leans over and follows me. “RNAV GPS RWY 23 into Boca Raton. Primary navaid WAAS enabled GPS, which checks and works. Approach course inbound 229. Please set the dial that says “course” to 229.”

She does as told as I read. “5,898’ of runway available, airport and touchdown zone elevation both 13 feet.” “Pinkie, here’s where I will need you to help. Get ready for this.”

She gives me a thumbs up before I continue. “We’re going to hold at KISEC as published here in this racetrack pattern at 3,000, right between 2000 and 6000 feet. When we get cleared for the approach, and we pass KISEC, which you’ll see and I’ll call out, I’ll need you to respond with the next altitude, which is 1,500. Okay?”

“Past KISEC, descend to 1,500. Got it!”

“Okay. Also, pay attention to your flight display. The number on the left, currently about 170, is our airspeed. The number on the right, at 3,000, is our altitude. The altitude control knob is on your side, which is currently set to 3,000. When we get cleared and pass KISEC, I need you to set that to 1,500, Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now. Just in case I forget, when we reach 1,500 and intercept the glideslope, I‘ll need you to arm the autopilot in case we need to go around, which is if we get told to by ATC, or I otherwise say so. Set altitude to 2,100 at that point, I’ll take care of the rest. Make sense?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay. I’ll walk you through each step too, just in case you’ve forgotten something.”

“Smile 5280, contact Palm Beach Approach on 125.2.”

“Palm Beach 25.2, Smile 5280.” “Palm Beach Approach, Smile 5280, level at 3,000.”

“Smile 5280, Palm Beach Approach, roger. Proceed direct KISEC, RNAV GPS RWY 23 Approach, report established in the hold.”

“Direct KISEC, RNAV GPS 23, will report established, Smile 5280.” “Let’s bring speed back to 160, in anticipation of flaps 22 in the hold. Pinkie, all I need you to do is set the altitude bug to 1,500, then on my mark, set it to 2,100.”

“Okie dokie Loki.”

Passing KISEC, hold parallel. Autopilot takes care of everything except airspeed and altitude. Flaps 22.

“Palm Beach Approach, Smile 5280 established in the hold over KISEC.”

“Smile 5280, roger. Cleared RNAV GPS runway 23 Approach. Radar service terminated. Contact Boca tower on 118.425, great day.”

“Cleared RNAV GPS 23, over to tower, thanks for the help, Smile 5280.” “Landing gear down please.”

“This lever?” She asks with her hand on the big lever that, um, says “landing gear.”

“Yes, that one.”

“Down!” She says as she brings it down. The pitching up moment corrects itself by George, and I reduce the speed bug to 140.

“Boca tower, Smile 5280, at KISEC, RNAV GPS 23.” Flaps 35.

“Smile 5280, Boca tower. Wind 260 at 5, altimeter 30.01. Runway 23, cleared to land.”

“Cleared to land 23, Smile 5280.” “Vref 135 knots. Touchdown at 128. Make note of that. Once we get to 1,500, we’ll fly the approach at that speed.”

“Okie dokie. When do you need me to set the altitude?”

“Right now. Passing KISEC, 1,500’ please.”

“Got it!” She calls as she sets autopilot.

“Speed 135 on the bug. Glideslope intercept 1,500.”

When we level off, I check the GPS and hand fly the approach.

“There’s our glideslope intercept. Altitude 2,100 please.” I say as I set flaps 50.

“Okie dokie, Loki!” She responds as she sets the bug. Autothrottle adds some extra thrust to compensate for the lost airspeed.

1000 to minimums.

500.

100.

263! Environment in sight, gear down, 3 green, power set, normal maneuvers, normal descent to land, cleared to land.

50.

40.

30.

20.

10.

Touchdown! Spoilers up, brakes on, 3 in reverse.

Pinkie flings forward in her chair under heavy braking. Firm landing, but at least we stopped in good runway.

“Smile 5280, no one behind you. Continue to the end, turn right at H, where are you parking?”

“Atlantic, Smile 5280.” I respond as I clean the airplane up.

“Smile 5280, roger. Turn right at H, taxi Atlantic via H P, contact ground .8 on P for either a P5 or P4 entry.”

“Right H, H P to Atlantic, contact ground on P, Smile 5280.”

On H, I turn off all the lights except beacon before turning right onto P.

“Boca Ground, Smile 5280, taxi Atlantic.”

“Smile 5280, Boca Raton Ground. Taxi Atlantic via P P5.”

“P5 entry, Smile 5280.”

Flaps up, spoilers retracted, reversers stowed, lights except beacon off, autopilot off and references set but not armed for the next flight.

After a lineman ushers us in to park, we shut down and unload. I order a couple hundred gallons of fuel and get Pinkie’s cargo out of the plane. After I get my receipt, I head inside to pay and Pinkie leaves her cargo plane side. After we get pointed to the gate, I drive out to the parking lot where Pinkie drives the rest of the way home.

As Pinkie does her driving thing, I break out an e-cigarette and ask, “you mind if I huff? It’s an electronic.”

“As long as you’re not setting anything on fire.”

“Nope. Just my nose hairs.”

“What?!” She exclaims. Just as she looks over at me, I stick the cigarette in one of my nostrils, give a good cocaine-style inhalation and trigger the tip light. When the smoke leaves through my mouth, Pinkie winces and goes “ewww!!!”

“Can’t be any worse than cocaine or meth. I’d know.”

“I don’t allow contraband, remember?”

“Oh well.” I say doing the nose thing again.

“Stop that!!! It grosses me out!”

“Good to know.” I snicker back.

When we get back, I move the trailer to the backyard under her guidance then aim the cannons so that they’re out of the blast area of her neighbors. A few minutes later, as I enjoy some more e-cigarettes, a figure clad in all white with magenta leggings, a pair of hi tops I would wear if I was feeling snazzy, a short sleeve track jacket, and a set of headphones I would love, enters the backyard.

Since Pinkie is tending to stuff in the house, I obligatorily greet her.

“Hi. You’re looking for Pinkie Pie? She’s inside baking.”

She gives me a thumbs up and heads for the glass door. I continue to do my nose thing and go through as many sticks as possible.

“Hey Vinyl!” Pinkie shouts as she pulls out some goods from the oven. The instantly recognizable scent of cookies hits me like a pie to the face. Bright pink and glossy like candy floss, Pinkie sets them on a cooling rack as her friend sets her equipment down in the main room.

“You’ll love these! Cotton Candy!”

“Sweet.”

“Vinyl, this is Max, one of my best friends!”

“Split Scimitar.” I respond. “I go by Max.”

She nods and shakes my hand, to which I ask, “you like Star Wars?”

“Yeah! I’m a huge fan of John Williams.”

“Sweet. Did you know that the Imperial Death March was inspired by a piece from Gustav Holst’s Planets Suite?”

“Yes actually! The opening and first stanza from Episode IV are sampled from Mars: The Bringer of War. And it wasn’t just from Holst: don’t forget about Chopin’s Funeral March.”

“Thank goodness I’ve met somebody else who knows that!” I say as I offer my fist for bumping.

“Alright!” She says as she bumps my fist.

“What’s your favorite genre?”

“For mixing, top 40 easily. They say a lot of pop music sounds the same, and it does, because the I–V–vi–IV (1–5–minor 6–4) chord progression is everywhere. Don’t Stop Believin’, Africa, Don’t Let Me Down, 21 Guns, to name a few.”

“Absolutely. Are you familiar with the group Axis of Awesome?”

“No. I can’t say I’ve heard of them.”

“Okay. Well, they’re a musical comedy group that made a song with that chord progression and made a musical mosaic for lack of a better term of songs that use it. The song is called 4 Chords.”

“Alright. Let me look it up.”

“I have it on my phone if you want to listen to it?”

“Okay.” She says as she pulls her earbuds out of her pocket.

“Do you need a jack adapter?”

“I’ve already got one, thanks.”

“No prob.”

“Wow, you have a lot of Nintendo on your phone.”

“Heh. They’re mostly 30 minute loops to help me keep track of time on long flights or drives.”

“Interesting.”

As she listens, we head back to the kitchen and she sits on the couch with her equipment. She lets out a couple of good laughs, some “not bad,” and some nods of “Yep, I knew they were gonna go there.”

“Nice. That’s pretty sick.” She says as she hands my phone back.

“Right?”

“Thanks for showing me that. I’m probably gonna have to buy that myself.”

“I would. It’s a great laugh, and it makes ya think too.”

“Yeah.”

“By the way, unpopular opinion: all pop music sounds the same for two reasons: 1. We’ve established all the appropriate chords and vice versa, so that heavily dictates songwriting, which means that 2. There are only so many chords out there. We were bound to run out of them at some point.”

“True that.” She says as she nods in agreement and bumps my fist again.

“Anyway, I don’t want to hold you, so if you need to set up, you can do that now.”

“Thanks.”

A few minutes after that, Pinkie offers me one of her cotton candy cookies. I bite into one and am instantly bombarded by the sugariness of it.

“Wow!” I exclaim. “You trying to give me cavities? Great recipe, Pinkie!”

I wait for a response as she bites into one herself. When she can, she responds, “thanks! Glad you like it!” before she delivers one to Vinyl outside.

After Pinkie returns, she checks to see that Vinyl is out of earshot (she’s got her headphones in anyway) before she asks if we can talk in private.

When we head up to her bedroom, she shuts the door behind us and sits me down at the side of her bed.

“What’s up?”

“I just want you to know that no matter what happens, I’m here for you.”

“Thank you. Were you aware of what happened in Chicago?”

“I kind of picked it up. But I figured you had stomach flu or something bad.”

“Did anyone tell you?”

“No.”

“Well, now you know. I got nervous as I usually do around the holidays. Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, what you saw was a combination of things. Mostly a series of sourceless panic attacks.”

“Have you considered professional help?”

“Hell no! Every psychologist I’ve visited has just driven me further and further to suicide. The next one I visit I’m afraid will send me over.”

“Are you on meds?”

“No. I don’t want to either.“

“Will a party of mine at least help put a smile on your face?”

“I hope so.”

“Me too. Max, I don’t know everything you’re going through, but I would hate to see you go so quickly. You have no idea how much I enjoyed that Chicago trip, since I know you were striving to make it the best it could be. And it was.”

“Thank you Pinkie. I’m glad you could enjoy Chicago as much as I loved showing her off.”

“Yeah! It made me so happy to see you happy.”

“You call me showing off Chicago happy? I’d hate for you to be around when I…”

“Stop!” She says putting a finger on my lips. She then heads for the door and opens it. “The first guests are here! Vinyl just started playing her music!”

“Yay.” I whisper to myself as she runs out the door.

When I reach the kitchen and take in the sight ahead of me, I slowly step out into the backyard then stop dead in my tracks. What stands before me is not at all what I expected. Expecting a lively, jumping crowd, what I get is a lively crowd, jumping. Into the pool.

“A pool party?”

“No, silly. SPRING BREAK!!!!!” She screams as she shakes me wildly. “WOOHOO!!!!!”

“Too bad I don’t have swimwear.” I whisper to myself. Nonetheless, I find an empty deck chair to lounge on. As I get comfortable, I adjust an umbrella to block out the sun in just the right places, but the fun soon ends. A single cloud blocks the sun, which is enough to get me to look up.

“Oh, look at that. It’s gonna rain.” I chuckle to myself as I continue to lounge. A few moments later, the sun gets blocked again, this time I know it’s not a cloud, as the silhouette definitely shows a bodily figure. I sit up and remove my sunglasses to find out who it is.