Return-Path: Sender: (Marvin Kaye) To: flyrotary Date: Thu, 26 Dec 2002 09:39:04 -0500 Message-ID: X-Original-Return-Path: Received: from mailc.telia.com ([194.22.190.4] verified) by logan.com (CommuniGate Pro SMTP 4.0.2) with ESMTP id 1934448 for flyrotary@lancaironline.net; Wed, 25 Dec 2002 14:29:16 -0500 Received: from d1o908.telia.com (d1o908.telia.com [213.64.0.241]) by mailc.telia.com (8.12.5/8.12.5) with ESMTP id gBPJT9vI000198; Wed, 25 Dec 2002 20:29:09 +0100 (CET) X-Original-Recipient: flyrotary@lancaironline.net Received: from nisses (t4o908p2.telia.com [213.64.1.122]) by d1o908.telia.com (8.8.8/8.8.8) with SMTP id UAA13906; Wed, 25 Dec 2002 20:29:05 +0100 (CET) X-Original-Message-ID: <001601c2ac4b$a0259f20$7a0140d5@nisses> From: "Martin" X-Original-To: , "Robin Flyers" , "Ola Rustenberg" , , "FlyRotary" , Subject: 'Twas the night before Christmas X-Original-Date: Wed, 25 Dec 2002 20:26:41 +0100 MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: multipart/alternative; boundary="----=_NextPart_000_0013_01C2AC53.EEFC7260" X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-Mailer: Microsoft Outlook Express 5.50.4522.1200 X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.50.4522.1200 This is a multi-part message in MIME format. ------=_NextPart_000_0013_01C2AC53.EEFC7260 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable 'Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the ramp, Not an airplane was stirring, not even a Champ. The aircraft were fastened to tiedowns with care, In hopes that, come morning, they would still 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 Trini and Bacun! On Comet! On Cupid!" What pills was HE takin'? While controllers were sittin' and scratching 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 from 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 to be '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 a phone for a Flight Service brief. And I thought as he silently scribed in his log, These reindeer could land in an eighth-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 a Grumman, inbound from the west." Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed thru the night, "Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight God Jul och Gott Nytt =C5r !! /Martin SE-FSG ------=_NextPart_000_0013_01C2AC53.EEFC7260 Content-Type: text/html; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable
'Twas the night before Christmas, and = out on the=20 ramp,
Not an airplane was stirring, not even a Champ.
The aircraft = were=20 fastened to tiedowns with care,
In hopes that, come morning, they = would still=20 be there.

The fuel trucks were nestled, all snug in their = spots,
With=20 gusts from two-forty at 39 knots.
I slumped at the fuel desk, now = finally=20 caught up,
And settled down comfortably, resting my butt.

When = the=20 radio lit up with noise and with chatter,
I turned up the scanner to = see what=20 was the matter.
A voice clearly heard over static and snow,
Called = for=20 clearance to land at the airport below.

He barked his = transmission so=20 lively and quick,
I'd have sworn that the call sign he used was=20 "St.Nick".
I ran to the panel to turn up the lights,
The better to = welcome=20 this magical flight.

He called his position, no room for = denial,
"St.=20 Nicholas One, turnin' left onto final."
And what to my wondering eyes = should=20 appear,
But a Rutan-built sleigh, with eight Rotax = Reindeer!

With=20 vectors to final, down the glideslope he came,
As he passed all = fixes, he=20 called them by name:
"Now Ringo! Now Tolga! Now Trini and = Bacun!
On Comet!=20 On Cupid!" What pills was HE takin'?

While controllers were = sittin' and=20 scratching their head,
They phoned to my office, and I heard it with=20 dread,
The message they left was both urgent and dour:
"When Santa = pulls=20 in, have him please call the tower."


He landed like silk, = with the=20 sled runners sparking,
Then I heard "Left at Charlie," and "Taxi to=20 parking."
He slowed to a taxi, turned off of three-oh
And stopped = on the=20 ramp with a "Ho, ho-ho-ho..."

He stepped out of the sleigh, but = before he=20 could talk,
I ran out to meet him with my best set of chocks.
His = red=20 helmet and goggles were covered with frost
And his beard was all = blackened=20 from Reindeer exhaust.

His breath smelled like peppermint, gone = slightly=20 stale,
And he puffed on a pipe, but "he didn't inhale".
His cheeks = were=20 all rosy and jiggled like jelly,
His boots were as black as a = cropduster's=20 belly.

He was chubby and plump, in his suit of bright red,
And = he=20 asked me to "fill it, with hundred low-lead."
He came dashing in from = the=20 snow-covered pump,
I knew he was anxious to be 'drainin' the = sump'.

I=20 spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
And I filled up the = sleigh,=20 but I spilled like a jerk.
He came out of the restroom, and sighed in = relief,
Then he picked up a phone for a Flight Service = brief.

And I=20 thought as he silently scribed in his log,
These reindeer could land = in an=20 eighth-mile fog.
He completed his pre-flight, from the front to the=20 rear,
Then he put on his headset, and I heard him yell, = "Clear!"

And=20 laying a finger on his push-to-talk,
He called up the tower for = clearance and=20 squawk.
"Take taxiway Charlie, the southbound direction,
Turn = right=20 three-two-zero at pilot's discretion"

He sped down the runway, = the best=20 of the best,
"Your traffic's a Grumman, inbound from the = west."
Then I=20 heard him proclaim, as he climbed thru the night,
"Merry Christmas to = all!  I have traffic in sight
 
God Jul och Gott Nytt =C5r = !!
/Martin = SE-FSG
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