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Merry Christmas and Happy new year everybody!

Got this in an email the other day, kinda fixed wingy but...

 

 

>'Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the ramp,

> Not an airplane was stirring, not even a Champ.

> The aircraft were fastened to tie downs with care,

> In hopes that -- come morning -- they all would 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 scratchin' their heads,

> 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 for 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."

 

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