Jurgie, Captain Gary Jurgenson, is a pussy-hound pilot who adopts a smooth, shy persona. His little boy face, and Clark Kent style haircut, portray an innocence that allows him to get away with anything. Before every flight terminating with a hotel layover, Gary would disappear from the cockpit for the half-hour before departure, trolling through the school of passengers that swirl near the gate, he would eventually show up in the cockpit with his catch of the day.
The attractive blond woman taking the jump seat today, whose name I’m told is Beth Wagner, is returning to Guam from Tokyo. Jurgie had done it again, here he is, radiant and shyly making the introductions. Miss Wagner, is an Air force Officer, no less. Gary instructs her on the proper use of her seat belt and oxygen mask, and jumps into his Captain’s seat.
Although the FAA strictly forbids any unauthorized people in the cockpit during any phase of flight, Jurgie always has a companion on the jumpseat for every take-off and for every landing on every leg. It’s amazing. One report, one mention of this behavior, and his career is over, along with we fellow crewmembers who were present during the occurrence, us; but he’s even got us mesmerized, cobras facing ferrets. Jurgie is so blasé about the matter, he has never risen a hint of resistance. It’s my leg back to Guam, so as we take off north from Narita, I’m busy flying the Narita reversal. I’m tuning VOR’s, setting radials, talking on the radio, doing it all because Gary’s busy pointing out the sights to our guest, as usual when he’s entertaining an attractive guest, he’s paying no attention whatever to the flying.
We are finally established on the airway and at altitude, so Gary asks me to show Miss Wagner the plane, indicating with a sweep of his hand all the “buttons and bows” up front.
The light test is always impressive, since holding the switch to the test position illuminates all the red, green, blue and amber lights up front, so I show her the “Christmas Tree.” Beth Wagner, underwhelmed, just yawns.
“Gary,” I say, “Allow Ms. Wagner to sit in your seat for a moment…” Gary and Beth switch seats, and we position her into the Captains seat, close to the yoke, the steering wheel, so to speak.
“Would you like to see the world’s largest vibrator?” I ask. She beams, “Yes.”
“Put your hands on the yoke,” I instruct, showing her my hands now on the steering-wheel.
As she puts her hands firmly on the yoke, I reach up and test the stall-warning system. The entire yoke and control column in front of both flying pilots vibrate and buzz vigorously in her hands. “You are now holding an 800,000 pound vibrator, the world’s largest.”
Without hesitation, Miss Wagner shoots back, “May I have a moment to reposition myself?”
We fall over, and we know that Jurgie has caught another live one, and will likely mount his catch in his hotel room later in Guam.