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Never fly with "Bob"

Author's name withheld, to protect the (mostly) innocent..

Rule #1: Never fly with "Bob".

I have an R-22 time slot on Saturdays, 4:30 to 6:30. This past Saturday Bob & I decide we want to fly down to the Miami downtown heliport. I'd fly down, Bob would fly back. Simple enough.

The flight down was most enjoyable and precisely flown. The downtown heliport is a real neat trip, as you come in at 500ft or less, right over the cruise ships and south beach. We shut down and grabbed a quick soda. It's now getting pretty dark, the sun having just set over the skyline.

"Bob" - not his real name - does a quick pre-flight then fires up. We do a max performance takeoff departing down Government Cut, right next to the cruise ships, hit the coastline and turn north. As we approach Ft. Lauderdale's airspace I tune in FLL tower getting ready to request transition.

Just as I come on freq, I hear, "Ft Lauderdale tower, this is Coast Guard three four six zero, ten miles south. We are currently following a helicopter northbound along the coast. If he contacts you please direct him to land Ft Lauderdale." I immediately stick my head out the door opening (we were doors-off) to see the lights of a Jayhawk on our tail! "Uh-oh." So I call the tower, requesting the transition, secretly hoping it's not us that's in the shit.

"Helicopter <one-two-three not-your-real-number>, you are being directed by the US Coast Guard to land Ft Lauderdale, state your intentions", they say. State my intentions??? What the hell does he think I'm going to say? "I guess we're landing Ft Lauderdale, request vectors", I reply.

So we finally get on the ground, taxi to the transient ramp, with the Jayhawk in close trail. We switch to 122.75 for direct comms with the HH-60J. They thank us for our quick response and apologize for the inconvenience. They tell us they're currently talking to their HQ and will be back with us in a moment. After five minutes of ground running we decide to shut down. As Bob is applying the rotor brake, I spot the shitload of flashing blue lights racing across the airport in our direction. "Here we go!", I say to Bob. The swarm of county sheriff cars and Suburbans come to a screeching stop around the front of our little harmless R-22 with EVERY light at their disposal aimed directly into the cockpit. I get out and walk towards the leading cop.

"Pilots license and medical", he says rather abruptly. "Not me, man, I'm just a passenger. He's the pilot", I quickly say pointing at Bob (what a team player, eh?!) As the cops are searching the R-22 (not much to search!), Bob retrieves his paperwork. The cop standing next to Bob had un-snapped the hold-down strap on his gun, and had it firmly in his hand (still holstered). This made Bob just a bit nervous.

Just about now, a cop-mobile sedan whips up and out comes three more sheriffs and a dude wearing the Govt issue blue w/gold letter jacket. "FAA Special Agent" it says. I can see Bob's butt pucker. All this time, I'm standing alone with the cops not paying me ANY attention.

The cops mill around, mostly watching the Jayhawk, now just taxiing out for departure. After about 20 minutes, most of the cops realize there's going to be no big shootout or coke-bust, so they lose interest and leave the scene. The lead 'sarge takes Bob's statement then offers to drive us to the terminal (we wanted to call the flight school and explain our delay). "I guess you're free to go", he says rather unconvincing. Bob is still convinced he's flown his last flight as a legally rated pilot.

We finally get out of there and fly back home to North County. As we taxi to the hangar, both instructors are there with their hand on their hips, looking pissed. We shut down and explain the story. It turns out the instructors had called the Coast Guard to get the REAL story.

Apparently, a helicopter had been flying VERY close to the cruise ships, at an altitude so low that many boats got the N numbers. He then proceeded to take a aerial tour of the Nuke power plant near by. By the time the Jayhawk got there, we were the only helo in the area. They were obligated to "pull us over".

So, it turned out to just be another fun night of flying in beautiful south Florida!

Lesson learned: never fly with "Bob".

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