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     SIA (Singapore Airlines Limited) is the flag carrier of Singapore that operates from its hub at Changi Airport.  The SIA logo is a “bird,” inspired by a silver kris, a dagger from Southeast Asia prominently featured in the region's myth and folklore.  The logo, or “bird,” is featured boldly on their aircraft’s tailfin in gold against a dark blue background. 

      In future SIA will fly to 62 destinations, in 35 countries, on six continents.  At this period, 1987, their fleet consisted of four B-757-212s, six Airbus A310-222s, ten Airbus A310-324s, seventeen B-747-212Bs (all passenger), two B-747-212Fs (Freighters – all cargo), and fifteen B-747-312s (a few of which are “Combies” – half passenger and half cargo).

     Bottom-line, dear reader, I would end up being checked out on six different versions of the Boeing 747 – two with SAUDIA and four with SIA.  Not bad for an uneducated, ragged-assed helicopter pilot!

     Whenever one joins a new airline there’s no escaping the required two weeks of ground school.  SIA conducted their new-hire ground school at the Paya Lebar Air base – home to the RSAF (Republic of Singapore Air Force).  Its motto: "Strength Through Readiness."

     And, once again, I’m in a Spartan classroom at the ass-end of a big, drafty hangar.  Locating an empty spot at a bare table, among a class of twenty pilots, I plopped myself down with my flight case.

     The pilot beside me nudged my shoulder, and said, “Well hello, cowboy, where in hades did you come from?”

     I glanced back at this pilot, was stunned with recognition, saying, “F-Fuck me blind!  Is that Cap’n Teddy?  W-What are you doin’ here?”

     Captain Ted Collard laughed as we warmly shook hands.  Ted was a Caucasian, Canadian male of average height in his late forties, with salt and pepper hair.  Previously I had flown several trips with him on the 747 at SAUDIA; proving to be a “good stick” who knew his business.  He had also indicated to me that he planned to hang in with SAUDIA, until mandatory retirement at age sixty; hence my surprise at finding him here as a new-hire with SIA.

     When I queried Ted regarding this, on a coffee break, he bashfully admitted he’d been “canned,” and that it was his own silly fault.

     So briefly, here’s Ted’s sad story, dear reader.  When on a layover in New York, Ted came down with a touch of the flu.  His throat was raw from coughing, keeping him up at night, so he bought some honey and a pint of whisky – mixing it together for cough syrup in a jar - the alcohol helping him to sleep.  When he packed up to check out, not thinking, he tossed the “cough syrup” in his suitcase.  Upon arrival at Jeddah, Saudi Customs went through his suitcase, found the jar of “cough syrup,” smelled the alcohol and sent Ted directly to the Royal Saudi Air Force prison.

     After two weeks in prison, Ted was kicked out of the Kingdom.  Moral of the story: Don’t “smuggle” booze into Saudi Arabia – unless you’re a prince.

     SIA ground school was proving to be one giant drag.  Upon issuing us manuals on the 747, its performance charts and company policy (all three the size of New York phonebooks) it’s clear a ton of reading and memorization was required, if we expected to pass the multitude of exams on each subject.  In class there were neither slide shows nor films, nor teaching aids - only a very dull Chinese gentleman lecturing us in not so perfect English.

     Singapore prided itself on being “a multi-racial society,” populated by Malaysians, Indians (Sikhs, Singhalese and Tamils) Arabs and many different classifications of Chinese.  Since the majority of their little society was Chinese, naturally it was run by them.

     The official languages of Singapore were English and Mandarin.  However the unofficial dialects were Malay, Hokkien and Tamil, therefore the government came out with posters everywhere stating: “Mandarin is in.  Dialect is out.”

     The worst part of ground school were the afternoon sessions after lunch, when my eyelids got so heavy while struggling to pay attention, as my Chinese instructor droned on and on.

     One particular afternoon, Ted nudged my shoulder, and asked in a whisper, “What’s this guy talking about?  What’s a ‘cracker’?”

     Ted’s question woke me up; causing me to really listen.  The Chinese instructor was describing the aural high-speed warning device on the Airspeed Mach Indicator.  When the IAS (Indicated Airspeed) Pointer creeps up to the red and white “Barber Pole” (Maximum Speed Pointer) an aural warning kicks off; making a “clacking” sound.

     It’s the 747 simply telling the pilots, dear reader, the following:  “Hey!  Dummies!  You’re going too fast!  Slow down before I lose a wing!” 

     This aural warning device is called the high-speed clacker.  Our Chinese instructor was mixing up his “L” with an “R” – calling it the “high-speed cracker.”

     When I whispered this intelligence to Ted - he started to giggle – causing me to also acquire a giggling fit as it was way past my nap-time. 

     I damn-near ruptured a spleen, dear reader, trying to control myself. 

     Throughout the rest of those long, boring days in ground school - whenever we got too sleepy – we’d whisper the magic word: “cracker.”  And we were off to the races again; stifling our giggling fits.  At least it woke us up.

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