Final Argosy Four - Fini Flight

By Tony Vallillo (10 June 2010)

Author's Note:
Upon proofreading this final episode, I found, somewhat to my chagrin, that I had meandered from past tense to present tense and back again on a number of occasions! I relize that this demonstrates a lack of grammatical discipline that might well reflect poorly on the Good Sisters who had charge of my primary education, but I have decided to leave things as they are. These events, even today, are somehow still very much in the present for me, and perhaps subconsciously this narrative reflects that. So as Pharoah was once heard to say: So let it be written, so let it be done!

"Brakes...Parked. Seat Belt Sign...Off. APU...Available. Cut 'Em!" It took me nearly 38 years to get to this moment, or perhaps 53 years if you count from the time I first aspired to become an airline pilot! But however and whenever it began, my professional flying career has just ended. The big CF6's are winding down for the last time under my command. I sit for a few seconds and savor the sound, and then, as the FO takes up the litany of the checklist, I rise from my seat to say a last goodbye to some of the people who made it all possible.

The party in operations before the flight

Cutting the cake

My tie goes on the wall of honor!

But we are getting ahead of ourselves! Flash back three days to my last "day off" prior to an American Airlines trip. By now it has finally sunk in that the next trip is really the last one! I just got back from Los Angeles, and with only one day off there is much to do to prepare for the next trip. For one thing, I will have a companion on the upcoming odyssey - She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed, known to me also as Virginia, will be along for the ride and the layover. So we are packing not just for one, but for two!

Actually, this is not the first of my trips that She has shared. On several other occasions, including one of my early Rome layovers, She experienced the joys and tribulations of airline crew travel. In earlier times bringing the spouse along on a trip was somewhat more common and considerably easier, since the availability of seats for non-rev travel was much better prior to deregulation, and especially prior to around 9-11. These days seats in the back, especially First or Business Class seats, are very hard to come by, and Virginia's eagerness to endure a long flight in coach has waned, to no one's surprise! Over the course of my career I have often wished She were with me as I was treated to some of the world's greatest sights, sounds and tastes, and it is one of my very few regrets that She would not fit into my suitcase on occasion!

For a Final Argosy, however, things are different. For one thing, the company graciously provides a very high priority pass for the retiring pilot's family, so the chances of Virginia spending more time in Rome than I will on the last trip are very slim! In addition, she certainly doesn't want to miss the retirement party in operations, to say nothing of the one in Rome! So, two suitcases are being packed on Thursday as my career heads for the final stretch.

Save for the double packing, however, there is nothing to differentiate this day off from the thousands of others that preceded it over the years. It is too early in the year to have to worry about yard work (and in any event I am rarely inclined to do much of it no matter what the weather!) so I amuse myself with a bit of flight simulation (!) and attend to the matter of getting a final official haircut. I certainly want to look the "right out of central casting" part for this last foray in the suit-of-lights! And speaking of the suit-of-lights, a side trip to the cleaners will be required in order to pick up the freshly laundered official last flight uniform shirts chosen specially for the occasion. Everything must be perfect!

On Friday morning I sleep late, as is often my wont when flying the all-nighters to Europe. Around 1pm we saddle up and head for the airport. I certainly don't want to be late for my last trip! An early arrival will also be in order since the company "party" will be today, before the trip begins. I had selected this month's schedule, with the Friday-Saturday-Sunday trips, largely in order to set up my final goodbye to Paris, as I related earlier in this series. The result is that my last arrival will be early Sunday afternoon. Now in the normal order of things the company arranges for the retiring pilot to be met in operations, after the final flight ends, by one or more of his Chief Pilots, as well as such various and sundry other pilots who might be inclined to pay tribute to the one from whom they are about to receive a number!

I myself was a Chief Pilot for a number of years right here at JFK, and I officiated in this manner on many occasions, to present the official final handshake to a departing airman. And yes, on occasion I had to drag myself out to the airport on a Saturday or Sunday to perform the rites. So I well understood the demands I was potentially making on the current incumbents of the office, and I proposed an alternative that the chiefs eagerly embraced - that the party be held on Friday afternoon, during their normal office hours, before the flight departed. I was aware that I might be incurring a Karma debt of sorts, but such has always been my confidence in my abilities that I put such thoughts aside and gave the chiefs a break! After all they had, only a few days ago, been so kind as to arrange my command of the Mercury! How could I do less than repay them with a Sunday off!

Our ship awaits us at the gate

Much to my surprise I am actually eager to go to work, exactly as I have been thousands of times before! The fact that this will be the last time has apparently not changed that and I am pleased that this is so, because the trip might otherwise become funereal, and I certainly don't want my last flights to be marred with regret. It is a great day, my bride accompanies me, and there is the chance to fly a big jet airplane once again! And so, after a quick and uneventful drive to the airport, I entered operations with She-Who-Must in tow. To my delight I found the crew lounge festooned with the usual banners bearing the usual congratulatory sentiments! The chiefs arrived and after introductions (Virginia had never met the new crew!) they commenced the rites of retirement by reading a list of my achievements with the airline, the most significant of which, I have always felt, was that I survived to this point over the course of 31 years of fun! There is a joke in the industry that is as old as the open cockpit airmail, that you have had the perfect career if the Chief Pilot doesn't know your name when he greets you for your final flight! This had actually happened to me a few times - on one occasion in particular the pilot told me that he did not know me (this was shortly after I assumed the duties of Chief). I immediately replied "Well, Captain, I don't know you either, and I'm happy to say that you've just had the perfect career!" Tonight, however, the Chiefs know me all too well, and having completed that somewhat tongue-in-cheek look at my career, they introduced a "mystery guest", which to my complete surprise turned out to be my brother and his wife, come all the way from Arizona where he is a Managing Director for USAir! Never underestimate the potential of pass travel! Virginia and I were delighted to see them, and after exchanging the usual labor vs. management barbs, we proceeded to cut the cake and invite my fellow crewmembers to consume vast quantities!

Having done this, the younger of the two chiefs (they are both younger than yours truly!) approached bearing something in his hand that cast a dangerous gleam under the fluorescent lights of ops! This turned out to be a large and sharp-looking pair of scissors, to be used in the final element of ritual for the occasion. Sometime in the early 1990's a tradition began that involved cutting off most of the necktie of a retiring pilot after his arrival and cake. This remnant (the lower portion of the tie) was then tacked up on a special bulletin board established for that purpose, there to remain forever like those prayer flags up on Mt. Everest. The original batch is still there to this day, along with all of the additions over the years. The collection now covers most of a wall in operations and after a quick snip the lower two thirds of my tie joined the distinguished group. Having anticipated this I had packed another tie to wear on the actual trip, since it would look more than a bit foolish to actually go out and fly a plane full of passengers in this sartorially circumcised condition! But I dutifully wore the stub until it was actually time to go to the airplane.

There were, gathered there in operations, around 20 or so people: a portion of the office staff that could be spared from their duties, my own contingent (now numbering four), and the usual suspects - that group of pilots who were tooling up for their own trips and who, attracted by the smell of the coffee or the thought of gaining a seniority number, dropped by to join the merriment. Among these are my two FO's for tonight's Final Argosy, and I introduced them to She since we would, in all likelihood, be partying together in Rome the next evening! Somewhere during this time I was called upon by the chiefs to pronounce a benediction upon the assembled multitude, and I did so; telling them that this moment had come more quickly than I ever thought it would, and urging them to enjoy every minute of every flight along the way, to say nothing of the people they would share the flight deck with. The camaraderie turns out to have been the best part of the job.

All too soon it's time to go to work. This may be a big deal for me, but for nearly two hundred people who are already checking in two floors below us it is just another flight to Rome. This group will be spared involvement in the festivities, but the passengers on the flight back on Sunday may not be so fortunate! More on that later!

I have already described the planning and execution of a flight from JFK to Rome in excruciating detail in a previous volume, available here on FlightSim.Com under the series title Golden Argosy. So I will pass lightly over many of the technical aspects of this Final Argosy in an effort to convey what makes a fini flight like this different from the run of the mill trip! Oddly enough it turns out that, at least for me, there isn't that much that is different.

The flight plan is waiting for us in the cyberspace of the computer, and it takes but a few keystrokes for me to call it forth, like some modern-day necromancer. It is of its usual length, somewhere around 10 feet long in its entirety. We, of course, don't leave it like that - for one thing, it consists of several more or less independent sections, and these we separate for easier handling. The flight plan portion shows an enroute time of only 7 hours 24 minutes, the result of tailwinds of around 100 knots all the way from Nantucket to just shy of 40 West. Along with these winds will come the possibility of a bit of light turbulence in the first few hours, but nothing that should rattle the china or spill the coffee!

Waiting for takeoff, runway 04L

The route for this second-to-last adventure is:

BETTE3 ACK DCT KANNI N43A COLOR NATX KENUK UN501 TAKAS UN490 TERPO UM616 LERGA UM728 BTA UL146 ELKAP LIRF

NAT X tonight is: COLOR/RONPO/4750N/4840N/4930N/5020N/SOMAX/KENUK

Our enroute alternates are Gander, Lajes and Manchester. Gander will be VFR when we need it, as will the other two, but Lajes and Manchester will feature strong and gusty winds out of the west. Rome itself will start out partly cloudy (2000 scattered) but will clear up in time for sightseeing in the afternoon. The long range forecast for the flight back on Sunday is perfect!

The fuel burn for the flight itself is calculated to be 80,800 lb; which, added to the other required extras like fuel to the destination alternate airport (Ciampino) and various reserves, plus the dispatcher's own added fuel (around 5200 lb for the wife and kids, which is appropriate considering that "the wife" is actually on the flight tonight!) works out to a total fuel load of 96,100 lb. with a minimum takeoff amount of 91,000, which leaves some wiggle room for delays. At this point in the corporate life of American Airlines, we are engaged in a life-and-death struggle for cost savings; an effort that has resulted in a microscopically detailed analysis of every pound of weight (most definitely including fuel) that is aboard the airplane tonight and every night. Truth is, this effort is nothing new - I have seen fuel savings pogroms in every decade of my career; and it can truly be said that no airline, especially American, ever intentionally wasted fuel! But subsequent to 9-11 we had to go back to the drawing board and extract even more fuel savings from an already miserly usage, an effort that has, almost unbelievably, netted significant further reductions!

The passenger load looks to be 203 all told, which compared to our configuration of 225 seats means that She need not stay at home and miss the festivities tomorrow!! These 203 people will add a corpulent 39,000 pounds to our weight tonight, which works out to almost 200 pounds per person! As usual, we are also carrying some cargo and this brings another 15,000 pounds to the table, a number which includes the passenger luggage. All told, we will weigh 356,200 pounds at the gate, and a shade over 354,000 at takeoff, depending of course upon the delays. This is nowhere near the 767-300's maximum takeoff weight of 408,000 pounds, so our performance on takeoff should be reasonably sprightly!

Everything being in order, as it has always been, I gather up paperwork, kitbag and wife in that order and head out to the gate. If there is a bit of a spring to my step, it is because this will be the last time I will walk through this part of the JFK terminal in the suit of lights, and I am taking full advantage of the opportunity to "strut my stuff" before She-Who-Must! Truthfully though, if that were indeed the motivation it would be a wasted effort, for She has been entirely too privy to my human failings over the years to fall for the high and mighty act. In reality it all comes down to this: I have always enjoyed every aspect of this job, and I am going to enjoy every bit of it for these final three days!

When we arrive at the gate, I discover to my delight that the agents have been able to secure a seat up front in Business Class for Virginia. As I said earlier, the Company provides a positive space pass for the spouse, but it is positive space only in coach. Since the seats up front are considerably more comfortable than those in the steerage, She will arrive in Rome in a much better humor - all the better for the layover!

After introducing myself to the Purser and the cabin crew, and briefing them on the details of our flight, I settle in up front and get the nest made. Tim will be sitting in the FO seat tonight, while the FB, John, holds down the fort on the jump seat. It has been my intention for as long as I have contemplated this final flight (a good long time, as it happens) to fly it exactly as I have flown every other flight in my career. And so with that in mind I brief the batting order, with Tim doing the flying on the way over so that the final final flight will be mine. Tim, however, protests sincerely that both legs should be mine, which is usually what the typical retiring Captain wishes! After assuring him that the leg is his if he wants it, I accept his largesse, grateful for the opportunity to do all of the flying.

The appointed time comes, and with it the call from the ground man. We complete the checklist and begin my last pushback at JFK. As we leave the gate, I take the opportunity to thank the ground man and, through him, all of the men and women who have supported me on the JFK ramp over the 31 years I have flown there. They have toiled in all sorts of weather at all times of the day and night to get the flights loaded and away safely and on time, and I have always been appreciative of their efforts. He in turn expresses his best wishes and indicates that he, too, will be heading into retirement shortly. As I return the last salute that I will get from a fellow AA'er (British Airways provides our ground handling in Rome), I realize that the "last's" are going to be coming hot and heavy from now on! Better not to dwell upon it, because the work at hand will require all of my attention, as it always does.

Flight log, flight 236

Oceanic Clearance

You would think that a nearly final flight would merit some special treatment, like going to the head of the departure lineup, but not so! Not to worry, though, for the lineup today is not long at all, and we make our way to the runway in the relatively short time of 30 minutes. My last takeoff from JFK will be made on runway 04L, and as I taxi into position I once again rehearse in my head the procedures for an engine failure on takeoff (Beyond V1 continue the takeoff, climb at V2-V2+15 to engine out acceleration altitude, clean up, climb power and checklists. Somewhere in there declare an emergency and ask ATC for a straight out climb). I have never had to use these procedures elsewhere than in a simulator, and if my luck holds for another two takeoffs I can release them from memory and free up some neurons for other important information like Virginia's birthday!

Now the tower controller, in the accent of deepest Flatbush, clears us for takeoff. Once again the engines let out that snarling roar as they come to takeoff power and the airplane charges off down the runway. It has always been amazing that this much power and momentum is actually under my control at these times! It takes only the slightest of nudges on the rudder pedal steering to keep the nosewheel a fraction of a foot to one side of the centerline lights. When the ship wanders a few inches, I am alerted by the thump..thump..thump of the nosewheel banging over the supposedly flush-mounted lights, and another ounce or two of pressure on the appropriate pedal cures the problem and removes the banging. V1 arrives and I remove my hand from the throttle, lest there be any temptation to abort the takeoff beyond this limit speed. The FO assumes throttle guard, lifting his hand from its previous position just behind and below the throttles. At V Rotate I pull back on the wheel and the nose starts coming up at just the stately pace I expect. Once the nose is up and coming I release just a bit of the pull, lest it keep on going and scrape the tailskid, a fate I have avoided thus far and fully intend to avoid for this takeoff and the next. The ship gathers itself up and bounds free from the earth once again, and I take a special delight in the feel of it, for I will have but one more opportunity to experience it.

Once the gear is retracted tower calls the turn to the normal 100 degree heading and sends us off to departure control. When we have checked in with departure and finished the flap retraction sequence a subtle relaxation occurs. We now have both altitude and airspeed to play with if things were to go wrong. Things, however, stay firmly right, and as we turn eastbound again we climb through a scattered cloud layer and join the westering sun which greets us from over my left shoulder. It is a moment of such sublime beauty that I am, for a moment, one with both the sky and the airplane itself! How fitting that such a moment should occur on this flight. I shall savor it for a long time to come!

It takes but a short time to climb to our cruising altitude of 33,000 feet, and once the passengers are made welcome I tilt the seatback slightly and settle into cruise mode. When the Flight Attendant brings up the sodas and nuts I inquire about the welfare of She. My bride, I am assured, is enjoying herself immensely and apparently is getting along quite well without my company. As the FB heads back to the cabin I ask him to relay my compliments to Virginia, and tell her that I will join her in a while when the second break begins.

Now that things have settled down, it is exactly like every other Rome flight I have made. Nothing special about it at all! Of course, as I remind myself mentally, there is still one more flight to go! But actually there is something a bit different, because the meals make their appearance quickly. The Purser, apparently, doesn't want this old geezer to get all woozy from lack of nourishment! That's OK - this is one mouth she won't have to feed anymore after tomorrow! As I savor the salmon, a perennial favorite of mine, I think back over the thousands of other crew meals I have consumed over 31 years, enough to keep a normal family in the pink for quite some time! Truth is, I have enjoyed every one of them, and tonight I indulge myself in a sundae to top things off.

The oceanic clearance comes slithering out of the ACARS printer right on time, and it is exactly what we filed. Approaching Ronpo we climb to our crossing altitude of 34,000 feet, where, just as forecast, we start picking up some turbulence. It's not enough to really worry about, but I do put the Seat Belt sign on, just to be on the safe side. After we bid goodbye to Gander Center and hello to Gander Radio, I switch over to the frequency for the big oil platform out here for a last chat. As usual, they answer quickly, apparently eager to break the monotony of the Grand Banks with a radio contact. After getting a short weather and sea report, I wish them well and thank them for the occasional chats over the years. I doubt that I will ever get to visit the thing, but I wouldn't turn down the opportunity if it ever arose!

The Pantheon

Retirement party in Rome

All too soon it is time to take my break, and after briefing the FB on our situation I head back to the cabin where I find She fast asleep. Just as well, for she will have a busy day tomorrow and she is not accustomed to the physiological demands of these Atlantic schedules. I also settle down for as much of a nap as I can get at this hour (it is only around 8pm tummy time!). But before I do, I perform a ritual that I have been doing as long as I have been flying these long trips. I take a stroll through the cabin to the aft galley, to see how things are going for the crew, and update them on anything new from up front. But aside from the contact with the majority of the cabin crew who usually don't make it up to the flight deck, I enjoy just seeing an airplane full of people, most of whom are sleeping as soundly as a person can in such an environment. This, I think, is the ultimate expression of trust - they feel confident enough to sleep through at least the wee hours of the flight. It is, and has always been, one of the great rewards of the career, and I will always be grateful to have had the privilege of their trust.

I am awakened as we are about to coast in over the region of France known as Pays de la Loire, crossing directly over Nantes. From here we slice southeastward in the general direction of Nice, where the Alpes Maritimes loom out of the mist on our left. This is a part of the Alps I have never seen from the ground, and like much of Europe it is on the list of places I might someday like to go, if the Euro ever again gets close to par with the greenback! By now we are cruising at the giddy height of 39,000 feet, and as we approach the island of Corsica Marseille Control starts us down. As we turn toward Elba I brief the approach - the usual morning approach, the ILS to 16R. The weather is great - just a bit of morning mist about, but good visibility and light winds. I ask for and receive clearance for a "high speed" descent below 10,000 feet. This is feasible over here in Europe, since there is very little small plane traffic at the lower altitudes, and even less at this early hour. A speed of 300 knots is impressive below 5,000 feet, and the hills and villages zip right along below us.

I take over from Otto shortly after we start down, and hand fly all the way down the coast of Italy from Grosseto past Civitavecchia where the cruise ships are already docked. More than a few of our passengers will be sailing this evening on one of those ships. I've done that myself and a Mediterranean cruise is a marvelous experience. Past the docks, we head straight for the runway, and I ease in a bit of speedbrakes to rein in the beast and get configured for the final approach. Approach speed, flaps and glide slope all arrive more or less simultaneously, and I guide the bird gently down the approach path. A slight flare over the runway end and she touches down smoothly, which is satisfying after a nice hand flown approach! The old guy hasn't lost his touch, at least not yet!

The drill is idle reverse only for noise abatement, and the bird slows down without the usual commotion of the reversers, which is also satisfying. I steer for the second high speed turnoff and head for the gate. The automatic parking system does its thing perfectly and now it is one down and just one to go. But there is no need to dwell on that, because there is going to be a party tonight!

The weather is perfect as we are whisked through the streets of an awakening Rome toward our hotel, which lies close by the Pantheon. Virginia takes in the sights as we dart through the incredibly narrow streets of the district and emerge at last into the Piazza in front of the hotel. The early risers from the outbound crew are sitting in the sun awaiting our arrival, and we exchange the usual pleasantries with them as we unload our bags. Bearing the extra burden of the luggage of She, I enter the hotel and begin the negotiations with the clerks at the front desk whereby I hope to be spared the ridiculously expensive surcharge that is usually levied upon significant others sharing rooms with the crew! Alas, although I bring my best Don Corleone impression to bear, the minor functionaries manning the desk today are unmoved, and I must fork over approximately $80 to put a roof over the head of my bride for this evening! This is one of the great downsides of European hotels, this sordid business of overcharging for companions in rooms paid for under a corporate contract. But at least it is only for this one night! Any future trips over here will be as a tourist, and it is highly unlikely that we will be staying in such relatively palatial digs on my own dime!!

After a brief wait for the rooms to be made up (the outbound crew has just vacated them) we stuff ourselves into an elevator about the size of a telephone booth and are borne jerkily upwards to the fourth floor, the location of the Captain's suite. Well, it is not a suite, per se, but it is a large and delightful room; and Virginia, casting her professional decorator's eye about, pronounces it eminently acceptable for my last layover. After a brief flurry of unpacking, we both dive into the large duvet-covered bed, the better to grab a few winks before setting out on my last walkabout in the Eternal City. (The rigors of command and overnight flight allow for little in the way of "extracurricular" activities on this or any other layover, at my age!!)

The uniform awaits its last call

Ready for the passengers to board my last flight

Several hours later the automatic wake-up call rouses us from our slumbers to undertake a final exploration of the city, to say nothing of our planned party this evening. A month or so ago, a friend of mine in Rome, whose acquaintance I had made over the internet of all things, had offered to host my retirement party in her home, from the front window of which a well thrown stone would hit St. Peter's Basilica. I, of course, immediately accepted and so Virginia and I will meet my friend, several of the AA Rome employees from the airport, and such sundry members of my crew as may be at loose ends this evening for some retirement merriment and what promises to be a wonderful dinner at an establishment that, my host assured me, enjoys the patronage of some of the more senior churchmen in Rome! Unfortunately, the most senior of all of Rome's churchmen is unavailable for our shindig! (My host had actually met Cardinal Ratzinger on several occasions before his "promotion" to his present job!)

After an initial and obligatory stop at what may well be Rome's finest gelato establishment, Giolitti, Virginia and I enjoy a wonderful afternoon wandering around town, poking our heads into churches that are like jewel boxes on the inside, and browsing historical sites 20 centuries old. As the day fades into evening we turn our steps toward Vatican City, and the apartment of my friend Joan Lewis, who serves as Rome Bureau Chief for EWTN, the Catholic cable channel. A merry group has already gathered there, including both copilots and several of the station personnel, with whom I had long ago become friends. After a delightful hour or two at Joan's we betake ourselves to the Ristorante La Vittoria, several blocks away, where we all enjoy a real Italian feast! Toasts are made and I pronounced benediction on the assembly with the added attraction of a few well worn anecdotes from my long career. Finally, after the last course is consumed, Virginia and I bid Joan and the FCO personnel arrivederci and headed back to the hotel. There is, after all, still one more flight to go in my career, and it would not do to approach it lacking the proper rest!

At 7 the next morning, after a layover spent as I wish they all could have been, which is to say in the company of She, we arise to the strains of the telephone wake-up service and prepare for the last flight I will make on behalf of American Airlines. As is my usual habit I take breakfast, this time not alone, in the restaurant of the hotel, for which I have developed a fondness due to their excellent omelets. After eating, we drag our bags outside to await the van in the bright sunshine of a Rome morning. All too soon it arrives, and the entire crew settles in for the ride to the airport, which, like so many other things large and small today, will be my last.

At Fiumicino we are met by the same folks who partied with us the night before. None the worse for that experience, they proceed to brief the crew and deliver the flight plan and the rest of the paperwork. After the usual transit of security (another last time, at least in the blue suit) I humor She-Who-Must as she indulges in her favorite pastime, shopping. The duty free stores at Rome airport are a magnet for such as She, and it will be a good many minutes before I can get her pointed in the direction of the airplane! Since we are already bearing a home baked cake, courtesy of one of the agents, we have little capability to replenish the wine cellar. So, having browsed like the pro that She is, the two of us ride the train out to the international terminal, where our airplane is already being serviced for the flight back home.

My first task, upon arriving at the gate, is to see to Virginia's accommodations. The flight is going to be full, and in order to get my bride aboard, the agents are contemplating drastic measures. I assure them that although I don't plan to seat Virginia on the flight deck (by no means an unknown practice on retirement flights, but against the rules and thus off limits according to my own standards) I also want to make sure that no passenger gets left behind. After a brief consultation with the two FO's, I arrange for Virginia to occupy the spare crew rest seat, next to our break seat in business class. Normally this seat is empty so as not to disturb the sleeping pilot, but the FO's consent to having the pleasure of the company of She!

Straight away I get down to work. Although this is the real Fini, it is still a regular American Airlines flight, and nothing must be allowed to interfere with the safe conduct thereof. So I take great pains to go over my last flight plan in depth, checking it as I always do to ensure that all is in order. The route chosen by our dispatcher today is:

GISPA 5A GISPA, UP77 ELB, UM616 PIGOS, UM733 BRY, UM729 RESMI, UL851 LGL, UM502 JSY, UN160 SHA, UN542 BABAN, UN544 DOGAL, NATF REDBY, N200B ALLEX, ENE, ENE4

NAT Foxtrot today is: 55N020W, 56N030W, 56N040W, 54N050W, CARPE, REDBY

Flight plan, flight 235 30 March 2008, signed by crew

The last Atlantic weather I will need to concern myself with

Noo thanks! It was a wonderful gesture, though!

My last guests arrive

Our planned altitude initially is FL 280, climbing to 350 for the crossing. The flight should take 9 hours and 2 minutes from takeoff. The fuel plan calls for a total of 125,000 lb, of which 108,100 is for the flight itself, and the remainder for various reserves. The destination alternate is, as usual, Newark, and the enroute alternates are Glasgow, Keflavik and Goose Bay. N399AN, our bird today, is one of the newer ones, and all things considered, will weigh 397,000 lb at takeoff. This, of course, is fairly close to the 408,000 lb maximum takeoff weight of a 767-300, but well within the limits for our usual takeoff runway in Rome, runway 25

The weather is excellent everywhere. Here in Rome it is clear with light winds and a temp of 6 degrees Celsius. GLA has a few showers about, not atypical for this time of year, but will be well above alternate minimums. KEF and YYR are partly cloudy and JFK is forecast to be essentially clear. The winds aloft chart indicates a strong jet stream running across the middle of the NAT area, which is why we are flying a bit north today, to avoid the strongest winds. And avoid them we will, with an average wind component of a mere 18 knots headwind!

I have prepared some special decorations for this final flight, and these I now put in place just aft of the cockpit door, in view of the soon-to-be boarding passengers. I have made a large color copy of a photo of an American 767 in mid-flight, and in honor of the role that She has played over the course of my career I have included on it the legend "Flagship Virginia", in token of the names that once were bestowed upon American Airlines airplanes. In further homage to that era I have placed, just above the Flagship Virginia picture, a real Flagship flag, a historical relic that I acquired many years ago from an old pilot who had picked it up in the 1940's from the runway at Louisville Kentucky, after some forgetful copilot failed to douse the colors before takeoff! The DC-3's of American were known collectively as the Flagship Fleet, and they all sported this red and blue pennant above the copilot's window when on the ground. Although I can't fly this flag out the window, I will display it in the entryway, and later inside the front window as we depart.

Having attended to all of these preparations, I greet the boarding passengers while the FO's complete the cockpit preparations. Normally I would not be doing the meet-and-greet prior to the flight, but this trip is special, and I take a few minutes to pay my respects to those who make this career possible, and along the way answer a few questions about the strange symbology adorning the entry passage. I can't stay to greet them all, since there are over 200 passengers on flight 235 today, but I stay as long as I can, until the demands of the job up front become pressing.

As I settle into the left seat for my final trip, I notice that the station personnel have concocted a humorous way to pay tribute to our friendship. Then have prepared a large banner that reads "Tony for President"! This is, of course, just about the time of the early primary contests in the USA's 2008 election season, and I am flattered. But No Thanks, all the same -- I wouldn't want the job! Not even if I got to fly Air Force One, which I certainly would if I were Commander in Chief!! (I can only imagine the situation if the President, in addition to all of the other criticism that comes his way daily, were to be judged on the quality of his landings!!)

Right on time, the door closes and I have the satisfaction of beginning my Final Argosy on schedule. Considering the important part that an on-time departure plays in the airline industry (notwithstanding what it must occasionally look like to a passenger!) I am pleased that my last labors for American Airlines have commenced on a positive note. The British Airways ground man checks in and, after getting clearance from ramp control, the tug emits a belch of black smoke as it digs in for my final pushback. As heavy as we are, I hold off on engine start until we have completed the rearward portion of the maneuver, and engage the starter for number one engine as we are being pulled forward to the release point. Both engines start with no fuss whatsoever, and the ground man is cleared off headset. Just before he goes, I thank him and all of his fellow BA'ers here in Rome for the excellent service over the years. This is something I will be doing a good bit of today on the radio as well.

Ground control clears us to runway 25 via the usual convoluted route. This is necessary due to construction that has been going on for over a year and involves the normal taxi route. We proceed at a stately pace, since at the higher weights we would heat up the brakes if we were going faster and had to slow down or stop. Brake temperatures used to be a big problem on the larger widebodies, especially the 747, but better brakes (some are made of carbon now, instead of steel) and different pilot techniques have had a big influence over the last few decades. Some of the airplanes have brake cooling fans built into the wheel hubs, but these add hundreds of pounds to the weight of the ship, and our 767's and 757's don't have them. Oh well, we have no brake temperature indications up front either, and out of sight is out of mind!

The Flagship flag in the front window as we push back from the gate

The island of Elba

Continental 767-400, our obliging photographer today!

As we approach the runway I make the "prepare for takeoff" announcement over the PA. Just the normal version, at this point. A bit later the passengers will be enlightened as to the festivities and decorations, but not just yet. Cleared into position after a landing airplane, the FO asks me if I have any words of historical significance to pronounce at this moment! As I line the bird up with the runway, I recall and paraphrase the words of Allan Sheppard, America's first astronaut, in a similar circumstance: "I hope I don't screw up!" The FO's remark reminds me that this is the last time I will go charging down the runway. After thanking the ground man I had pretty much gotten into the routine of the flight, and I actually forgot all about the Fini part! Hopefully it will be like that all day.

As tower clears us for takeoff I thank him and his fellow controllers at Rome for the excellent service, and then advance the throttles and call for the autothrottle. The ship is a bit slower to accelerate at this weight, but the nearly 125,000 pounds of thrust eventually wins out over weight and inertia and we hit 159 knots (V1) about halfway down the runway. I raise the nose at VR and 399AN gracefully leaves the runway behind and heads for the sky. A slight right turn puts us on the Gispa 5 and we change over to departure control, which in short order free us from the 250 knot speed limit, and clear us direct to Elba.

Now that we have the ship cleaned up and everything is in order, we can indulge in a little sightseeing as we pass Elba, the erstwhile prison of Napoleon (for a while, at least!). It's a beautiful looking island from above, and I imagine it is much more so from sea level. There is an airport situated in a valley between the several mountains that form the bulk of the island, and it would probably be a great destination in a small plane, perhaps like a mountainous version of Nantucket.

When we level off we call up the flight logs from the ACARS printer. Thus armed with the updated arrival time at JFK, I pick up the PA microphone to deliver a speech that I have had in mind for years. My typical welcome aboard oration is relatively short and sweet, since years of flying in the back have made me realize that a great many pilots are in love with the sound of their own voice! This is, to be sure, a nearly universal condition among new Captains, but as time goes by some pilots still go on and on about things that the average passenger of today has no interest in. These days I usually confine myself to thanking them for flying with American, telling them about the arrival time and weather, and putting in a good word about the cabin crew. Beyond this I may or may not say anything about the route, since only a few passengers have window seats and the shades are most likely drawn.

On a last flight, however, the retiree pretty much has the option of seizing the bully pulpit, and delivering a last soliloquy along whatever lines he or she thinks appropriate. I've never been a crewmember or a passenger on anyone's last flight, so I can only rely on second hand reports, but such reports indicate that the spectrum of last flight pronouncements is wide indeed.

I myself have always felt that this last PA should be an opportunity to convey my thanks to those present on the airplane who have made my career possible. After much thought, and considering that I want to keep my remarks to just a couple of minutes because the audience is indeed a captive one, I have decided to publicly thank two groups and one individual. And so, as I begin the valedictory with the usual welcome aboard and ETA, I first explain that this is a special flight for me - my last in command of an American Airlines jet. I go on to tell them about the significance of the Flagship Flag they may have noticed upon boarding, and that the "Flagship Virginia" refers to my bride, written thus because there was not room on the picture for "Flagship She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed"! I explain that no pilot can have a successful career in this business solely on his own merits; rather, it is through the support received from many other people, both in and out of American, that I have reached this point.

First of all, I salute and thank my fellow pilots, especially those Captains who indoctrinated me by their example, and those First Officers and Flight Engineers who supported me in my own Captaincy and helped keep me out of trouble! I pay tribute also to the Flight Attendants of American past and present who, over the years, have done so well in that all important task of keeping the customers coming back! And finally, I pay tribute to my good wife, who kept things on such an even keel at home all these years that never once did I report for duty burdened by troubles on the home front. The net effect of this speech was reportedly such as to make stones weep, or at least She, which may or may not be equivalent! I am told immediately thereafter that there was applause, but whether that was due to the content of the speech or the fact that it had ended is uncertain! Nonetheless, my swan song is delivered - the one part of this flight that I had thought a great deal about over the years. I am pleased that it seemed to go well.

Flight 235, from the Continental flight deck

Message from Dispatch

As the FB goes back for the first break we settle in for the long haul. From here (approaching Nice on the Cote de Azur) we have over an hour to go to get to the North Atlantic. I had actually hoped that the route today would be over the Swiss Alps, and I suppose that had I dug my heels in I could have demanded and gotten it. But that would have added a not inconsiderable cost to our journey, and I have no wish to make my last flight a financial burden upon my employer. Throughout my entire career I have felt very fortunate to have been employed at this company, and I always strived to make it a better place for my having been here, to give as well as to take. So I will fly the least cost flight plan that the computer has concocted, and finish on the same note as I started.

There is one thing that I had hoped against hope would happen on this flight, and that is to run across another airplane 1000 feet above or below on the track, with a pilot onboard who has a decent digital camera! On one previous occasion in all of my flying I had someone email me a picture they had snapped of us, although it was of relatively low resolution and not at all suitable for enlargement to the grand proportions I had in mind for my office wall! But now, shortly after we step out over the ocean, what do I see but a Continental 767-400 overtaking us below. And wonder of wonders, he is equipped for picture taking! I get some shots of him and he of us and we exchange emails. A few days later the picture you see here arrives, and it is indeed capable of being enlarged. It couldn't have happened on a better occasion!

As we continue westward the flight is as routine as it could be. Exactly like all the others before. The various chores and cockpit discussions are keeping me occupied and indeed I have to stop and think to realize that this is the last one! It really doesn't seem that way. Of course my situation is a bit different from the typical retiree, for I have the option, embarrassing though it might be, to change my mind when we get to New York and un-retire myself; an option that I possess for the simple reason that I lack a good many years of the new mandatory retirement age of 65! So all in all, I suppose that lurking in the back of my mind might be the thought that there just might maybe possibly be another trip to Rome after this one! But for that to happen, the stock market would have to experience a record uptick tomorrow, Monday the 31st of March. Small chance of that!

In time I take my turn in the cabin for my break. Virginia is fast asleep in the seat next to me and I do not disturb her, sleep on an airplane being hard to come by and precious to enjoy. I pull the blanket over my head and nod off myself, and surprisingly I actually sleep until I am summoned 2 hours later. My last crew break has gone off without a hitch! Virginia still sleeps soundly, so I leave her to her dreams and take my last cabin stroll. Most of the passengers are asleep or deeply engrossed in the movie, and few pay any attention to the man with the four stripes as he makes his way to the aft galley for a brief confab with those few flight attendants who are not also on break. It turns out that one of the flight attendants is the older brother of someone I went to high school with! It certainly is a small world.

After a quick visit to the galley for an infusion of caffeine, I return to my place of work at the pointy end of the jet. This is another "last" - my last cup of airline coffee, or at least my last working cup! Hopefully I will enjoy the brew in the back as a passenger on many occasions, but this will be the last time I "need it"! I was not a coffee drinker until late in my airline career, but eventually I came to find it useful, and less invasive than an intravenous caffeine drip! On occasion the flight attendants would be startled to hear medical terminology over the interphone, as when I made a request for a cup of Java "stat"! Too many doctor shows on TV I suppose.

I had intended to grab a photo of the FMC showing my last 1000 miles to go, but lo and behold, it has slipped my mind in the midst of the many small but important tasks of cruise, and I have to content myself with a shot showing an undistinguished number in the mid 700's. No matter, for now each mile that clicks off is special in its own way. The FO and I keep up the usual conversational banter, more out of habit than for any other reason, and the miles go flying by. All too soon we are coasting in over the ice floes of northeastern Canada, and I remind myself to look into spending a small portion of my lump sum on some land up here, just in case the environmental types are right and the world will heat up!! Who knows, perhaps someday Goose Bay may be the new Miami!

A quick check of the METARS reveals that the weather in New York is beautiful, and the winds appear to favor the 22's. As we streak southwestward over the Gulf of St. Lawrence I reach into the depths of the kit bag and extract the approach charts for New York. It's never too early to start going over the arrival and approach, no matter how often I have done them before! There are, in fact, two approaches to runway 22L, which is the preferred landing runway. One is an ILS approach, which has recently been upgraded to a CAT III. This was a timely upgrade, since it was here, some years ago, that I encountered the lowest CAT I visibility I have ever seen in my career. We were ferrying an empty Airbus back from Paris after a days-long mechanical delay, and the copilot was doing the flying. As we were being vectored for the other approach to 22L (which is a VOR/DME approach with the final course situated at a slight angle to the runway to keep the airplane over less noise sensitive areas) it was already apparent that a solid deck of marine clouds was forming quickly below us. We asked for the ILS to 22L (at that time a CAT I approach with a decision altitude of 200 feet) at just about the same time that approach control realized that is would be necessary.

Coast in near Saint Anthony

It's still winter up here in northeast Canada

Missed 1000 to go!

Once established on the ILS, we slid down the glide slope into the fog. This was the pea soup variety of the sort they have so frequently in England, and we were both prepared for a missed approach. At exactly two hundred feet, as the words "go around" were already forming on my lips, I spotted the strobe lights and managed to change my announcement to "continue". With nothing but the strobe lights in sight on a CAT I approach, further descent is permitted to 100 feet above the ground. This next 100 feet seemed to take as long as the entire approach (!) and we were rewarded, at around 125 feet with the sight of the remaining elements of the approach light system along with the runway threshold lights, sufficient visual reference to continue to a landing. The FO, as is always prudent in these circumstances, kept the autopilot engaged until the minimum altitude of 50 feet, from whence it is merely a matter of retarding the throttles and initiating a slight flare. Nowadays, of course, Otto would take it all the way to the landing roll. Interestingly, the flight that followed us went around - apparently the weather was on its way to W0X0F! (Indefinite, ceiling Zero, Obscured, Visibility Zero, Fog, in the older lexicon of aviation weather reporting.)

The VOR/DME approach has much higher minimums, and is generally used only in marginal VFR or better conditions as a noise abatement tool. The course line for this approach is offset 10 or so degrees to the left of a straight-in final, and leads the airplane over a narrow area devoid of houses. This is the approach I expect, since the weather is good, and this is the approach I will brief and plan for. The course is defined by the 052 radial of the JFK VOR, which is on the airport between the 22's. At some point, usually a couple of miles out, we slide right and transition to a straight in approach. Although the approach, like most of the so-called non precision approaches, has minimum altitude limits along the course that form a sort of step down instead of a continuous glide path, the FMC is fully capable of calculating a continuous descent path that will meet all of the minimums along the way and preclude the need to add power to level off at any of the intermediate steps, thus saving some fuel. We can also tune the ILS and use its glide slope, while flying the offset course using the pink line put in place by the FMC.

As we enter US airspace I bid the Canadian controllers adieu, along with that message of thanks to them and all of their colleagues and predecessors. I have been doing that every time we leave a center, all the way across, including the Oceanic centers Shanwick and Gander. Air Traffic Control is of great importance to the safety of all flights, and all of these men and women throughout the world have been helping keep me safe for over 38 years. A final thank you is the least I can do to express my appreciation!

Once again I am treated to an aerial tour of the northeast coast of the United States, which is one of the most beautiful places in the country. We fly over Providence, and just to the north of Newport, where the great barons of the early industrial age vied with one another to build the most ostentatious oceanfront mansions. And we fly right past Block Island, a favorite destination in a small plane. By this time I am busy with the preparations for the approach and landing, and so I am spared the thought that but a few minutes hence Block Island will be about as far east as I will be flying! At 10,000 feet over eastern Long Island (sometimes pronounced "Lonk Oiland" or Lon-Giland" by the natives!) I slow for the last time to 250 knots. It is quite likely that I will never again exceed that speed (or even come close to it!) in an airplane that I am flying. Fortunately, as before, this does not occur to me in the moment. From now on the demands of everyday flying will take over and all other musings will be shut off.

One thing does, however, draw my attention as we check in with approach control. In my day in the office, the chiefs would usually make it known to the Tracon that a particular flight was a fini flight. Armed with this knowledge, the controllers would usually make some congratulatory greeting when the flight checked in. For whatever reason, that is not happening with us, and as far as Tracon seems to be concerned we are just another flight on just another day. Well, actually, we are! And the lack of reminders helps me to keep my mental energies on the combination of the demands of the moment!

Adding to those demands is a continuous light turbulence in the lower reaches of the atmosphere which, while not enough to be a real bother even to the passengers, is enough to keep me working a bit at the controls. I have, as you might imagine, bid my last farewell to Otto a good while back, the better to savor the delightful flying characteristic of the 767 one more time. And so I gently herd the bird along the south shore of the Island, past the various Hamptons and Jones Beach as we coast toward the Big Apple. Approach slows us to 220 knots and I call for the first notch of flaps, which as most of you know results in only the leading edge devices extending on this 767. In due time approach turns us to the north to intercept the 052 radial (232 course) of the JFK VOR which forms the final approach course, and reins us in to 180 knots, which we will maintain until the final approach fix at RUSHY.

Long Island - the last few miles

I am now working just a bit in this light turbulence to keep everything right on the numbers, as befits a swan song! Gear and more flaps, and then we start the final glide toward runway 22L. As we sweep over Rockaway Boulevard I am using a combination of the VASI's and the ILS glide slope to keep the ship right on the proper descent. As usual, the two do not quite agree, especially close-in, but I'm used to that. The final 50 feet or so is all done by eyeball. For the last time the speakers come alive with the metallic voice intoning "50....40...30...20...10". I hold the descent until around 20 feet is called, and then start a flare, still working a bit to keep the wings level in the bumps. It looks good as we level off somewhere at or just below 10 feet, but as the lift pays off the bird sinks the final few feet and settles itself onto the runway with a light thump, not unlike a generously proportioned matron plopping into an overstuffed chair! Oh well, the perfect grease job I was looking for is not to be mine!

No time to worry about that now, because we still have to get the beast stopped before the other end of JFK's shortest runway. The autobrakes take care of that with their usual smooth efficiency, and in just a few seconds we are turning off at taxiway Juliet, our gateway to JFK. It is only now that it hits me - I have just completed my last big-jet landing. I am grateful for the bit of turbulence today, for it kept me working and kept my mind off morbid thoughts and entirely occupied with the demands of the job. Now the job is just about over, although we must still be vigilant because, as they say, the job isn't really over until the paperwork is done!

After holding for the takeoffs on 22R, we are cleared to the terminal. As I bring the ship across the bridges over the Van Wyck Expressway, I express my thanks to JFK Tower for all of the years of safe operations. It is at this point that the controllers realize that a fini flight has just arrived! They acknowledge my tribute, and express their best wishes for my retirement. This exchange has also alerted me to the fact, soon confirmed out the window, that our arrival is going to be a dry one.

I don't know how or when or where it started, but for many years now it has been traditional all over the world that a retirement flight is given a wash down by the fire trucks after landing. This honorific even extends to some of the military services. As chief pilot I had often made the arrangements for these ablutions - all it takes is a call from someone in authority to the fire station, and if the crews are not otherwise engaged the incoming flight gets to drive under an arch of high pressure water thrown a hundred feet or so into the air by these powerful trucks. The passengers get as much of a kick out of it as the pilots do, at least those seated by a window!

Today, though, there are no fire trucks anywhere in sight. This is actually not as disappointing as you might think, because two years ago I myself had arranged the water cannon salute for a retiring flight attendant on one of my trips. This may have been the only time that this tribute was paid to someone other than a pilot, at least at American, but the lady in question was one of our very best and quite deserving of the honor! Knowing the protocols, as I did, it was easy to make the arrangements! And so it was that I did get to drive under the water cannon salute, even though it will not happen today. A good deed is indeed often its own reward!

As the FO gets clearance from ramp control to proceed the final few hundred yards to the gate, he motions to me to listen in on the number two radio, which I do by flipping a switch. It seems that an old friend of mine from chief pilot days, now one of the four Ramp Managers at JFK, has come in on his day off to be the one to issue me my final clearance to a gate! He recites a heartwarming panegyric over the radio, and it is worth all of the water cannon salutes in the world! It does take a minute or so to complete, which apparently irritates an Eagle Captain who is awaiting clearance to push. My friend silences him summarily, and I smile with the realization that even this impatient Eagle Captain will likely benefit from my imminent departure! I am also at this point informed that the reason we are dry at this moment is that it is shift change time at the fire house (wouldn't you know it!). Oh well! They were there if we needed them, and that is all that counts!

The gate we get is one of the best, for once, with but a short walk to customs, and I swing the bird around and ease it forward to the final stop. "Brakes Parked...Seat Belt Sign OFF...APU Available...Cut 'Em!" And just like that it is all over. 38 years of flying jets winds down to a close as the big GE's spin down to a slow roll in the wind. Normally I would be involved in the remainder of the checklist, but this time I ask the FB to take over the left seat for that litany, while I make my way immediately to the door. One of the rituals of a fini flight is the good bye to the passengers. I have seen this occasionally from the jetbridge in other times, and now I get to experience it for myself. My Bride joins me at the cockpit door and we greet each passenger in turn - they all want to shake hands and express some good wish for my golden years. There are over two hundred of them, and it takes many minutes, but after the last of the farewells have been made there is time for a quick picture of the crew, or almost all of it at any rate - one of the flight attendants is a commuter and made a quick dash for her flight, with my blessing!

The VOR/DME to 22L

A last look at my office for over 38 years

The cake that the Rome agent's wife baked for us

And then there were none. Virginia and I collect my bags and hers, and after I pen a final tribute to our maintenance organization in the airplane's logbook along with the official "no items" entry, I take a last picture of my office as I leave and we head down the corridor for the statutory encounter with the Customs Service. The crew is long gone, and as I hand the officer my declaration I thank him and all of his colleagues for their courtesy and cooperation over the years. And then we go to await the crew bus for the trip back to the Honda in the parking lot.

As I drive off into the sunset there is one more thank you to be given, this one over the phone since I was otherwise occupied with flying as we made our approach. I call the Tracon and express my gratitude to the shift supervisor for 31 years of safe flying, a sentiment which he promises to pass on to the troops.

It takes but a mere two hours to drive home and I am amused to see that our daughter has festooned the entry to our driveway with a sign advertising frequent flights from our garage! I greet the grandbaby and retrieve our bags from the car. I don't rush to get out of the uniform, though, as I usually do. I want to wear it for real for just a few minutes longer.

I have worn it but once since then, to a career day at a local high school. And after that, never. It still sits in my closet, for all the world as though it was waiting its next call to duty, as does my kit bag, still filled with all of the charts and accoutrements that I used on that final flight. This is probably foolishness of the highest order, but it pleases me to have it so. And after I finish writing this the flight plan and all of the paperwork will go into a file, perhaps never again to see the light of day, but never to be discarded.

It is now over two years since that day. It took quite a while to write this series, partly because writing is not as easy as bestselling authors make it appear. I want to thank Nels and FlightSim.Com for "publishing" these over the years - especially in this instance, the writing has been cathartic and, if nothing else, will cement these memories in place beyond the point where senility can one day steal them from me!

The most interesting thing about my life in retirement is that, as strange as it may seem considering how I loved the job every minute, I really don't miss it. This is all to the good, for my biggest fear had always been that I would end up like a beached sailor sitting on the dock of the bay. Not so. I left at just the right time for me, which is the best way to end any career. I have kept my hand in, so to speak, with MSFS and Level D, and I suppose that I could still fly a 767 if push ever came to shove. I sincerely hope that it doesn't, because for anything like that to happen, some real bad juju would have come down the pipe.

I still fly a good bit these days, mostly for the Civil Air Patrol, the civilian auxiliary of the US Air Force, my original Alma Mater. I fly Cessnas now, instead of Boeings, but two of our birds have the new Garmin G-1000 glass cockpits, which are just as complex as the stuff up front in the 767! I serve as a check pilot in CAP; and indeed, as I write these words, I am about to depart for a national search and rescue school out in the wilds of Indiana, where I will indoctrinate CAP pilots into the mysteries of visual and ELT searches. I still wear the same kind of green flight suit that I started out in back in the summer of 1971 in Selma Alabama in Air Force Pilot Training. The circle is complete.

Happy Landings!

Anthony Vallillo
avallillo@charter.net

Final Argosy Series

Final Argosy

Final Argosy - Under The Southern Cross

Final Argosy - King Neptune's Court

Final Argosy Part Three - Viva Tango!

Final Argosy Part Four - Adios Amigos

Final Argosy - Last Tango In Paris!

Final Argosy - Fini Flight