A flight to forget
Oh what a flight
Okuk's Last Flight
B707 Anecdotes
B707 Introduction
A Biblical Story
A Biblical Story 2
A Biblical Story 3
Forbidden Fruits
Joe's Jolly (Poem)
The Golfer
Suitably Restrained
PX Advertisment 1
PX Advertisment 2
PX Advertisment 3
PX Article 1
PX Article 2
PX Article 3
The Check Ride
First and Last Flt.
First Command
DC3 KOK - POM
The Holiday
Friends at Last
History of P2ANQ
Ferry Flight
Crayfish
FO Cassanova
Larry Blackman
Secret Revealed
Airbus A300
Cargo Capers
Doing it Differently
Side Slip
Larry Blackman
4th Floor Memo
International Arsonist
Office Works
Thru Eyes of a Hostie
Airline Anecdotes
INTERNATIONAL ARSONIST Posted by Bill Moore
I submit the following explanations to set right the scurrilous slur of arsonist on my character and the many exaggerations associated with various minor incidents. J. Much of this was initiated by the Flight Administration Manager, Mr. OP Evans in 1978. (See Fourth Floor Memos)
In 1978 I crewed a flight, Port Moresby to Hong Kong, arriving on curfew at 10.00 PM and nearly midnight by the time we arrived and changed at the hotel. We, the crew, had had a miserable flight up spending most of it avoiding en route storms and had not been able to consume our in flight meals. At this hour it was not possible to get room service at the hotel so we all retired to bed somewhat hungry.
I awoke the next morning at 0600 and again tried to get a meal through room service. As this was not available until 0730 I got up, showered, dressed and made myself a cup of coffee. To pass the time I started to read a book and lit my first cigarette for the day. Unfortunately I fell asleep while lying on the bed. The unsmoked, but lit cigarette overbalanced from the bedside tray and dropped onto the queen sized foam rubber mattress.
The next thing I knew there was a furious banging and hysterical shouting at my door. I got up, eyes stinging from the smoke and opened the door. As it opened it I received the first of 10 buckets of water being wielded by very excited and perhaps scared Chinese hotel staff. Water went everywhere, over the bed, carpet, me and my uniform hanging in the wardrobe. Ten buckets of water expended, much excited discussion and still the foam mattress was smouldering. Obviously the finer points of fire fighting were not high on the list of hotel training. I dampened a face towel, compressed it into the small burn hole and extinguished it.
Surveying the sodden mess in my room I realised that first on the agenda was to launder and dry my uniform. I emptied the water from my shoes, changed into some dry clothes and went in search for a laundry that could process everything in reasonable time that day.
On returning to the hotel I was met by the manager who presented me with a bill that would allow mattress and bed linen replacement, re-carpet and paint the room and still have several thousand dollars change. I deflected his demands by saying that the bill was over my card limit and that I wanted a more detailed quote.
A couple of weeks later I received a memo from OP. I rang him and said I would be in immediately. I should have known that he was having a bit of fun, particularly when I noticed that the secretaries were giggling and he and Dave Campbell were smirking when I walked in. I managed to get out an indignant “You can’t put that on my file” before there was laughter all round and I realised I had been set up. We discussed the various points of the memo during which I suggested that we change hotels on the basis that they did not have a fire sprinkler system and had poor fire fighting training. I have always believed that attack is the best form of defence.
The change of hotels came surprisingly quickly. The reason considered by many was that the change was due to my pyrotechnic efforts.
Some years later Air Niugini again negotiated a contract for crew overnight accommodation with that same hotel. During talks with hotel management the manager asked if Captain Moore would be returning. He had not forgotten.
One would think that with the passing of many years the stories would die down. This was not to be.
In 1987 I carried out a flight to Sydney with Avern Game and Bill Crick. At the hotel check in it was decided that we would meet back in the foyer in 30 minutes to go for a couple of “convivial beverages” at a nearby Leagues Club. At the elevator Avern jokingly said “don’t set your room on fire”.
In my room I hung up the next day’s uniform and noticed that the shirt was creased. Rather than iron it I decided to hang it in the shower and let the steam remove the wrinkles. Shower finished I turned the water back onto full hot. Before I could dry off there was a loud knocking on the door with someone querying if I was alright. Wrapping a towel around myself and still dripping wet I opened the door to find a female assistant manager asking if she could come in to check for fire. I told her there was no fire however she still insisted that she had to remain in the room until the alert was cleared. Her eyebrows shot up a little when she noticed plumes of steam issuing from the bathroom door. We had a short discussion about the substandard smoke alarms that the hotel had installed. Shortly afterwards a fireman entered the room and set about deactivating the faulty alarm. By now I realised that my fellow crew members would be waiting for me. I said to her that I would like to get dressed and suggested that she leave. She responded by saying “don’t let me stop you”. Turning around to get a shirt off the bed I was somewhat startled to see a fireman on a ladder outside my 6th floor window. The cheeky sod was blowing kisses. I gave him a two finger salute and snapped the curtains shut. Having got dressed my studied exit was somewhat spoilt by the lady saying “Don’t forget your key”.
Downstairs I was asked what had kept me. I said that I would tell them when I had a beer. Outside the story was out when the other two spotted the three fire trucks in attendance and a ladder still retracting. Despite my denials of fire in my room, they refused to believe me. What might have been a slight rekindling of previous exploits became a raging inferno in the hands of Raconteur Crick and Captain Motor Mouth Game.
Many would say “That where there is smoke there is fire”. In my case, just smoke and steam.
I submit the following explanations to set right the scurrilous slur of arsonist on my character and the many exaggerations associated with various minor incidents. J. Much of this was initiated by the Flight Administration Manager, Mr. OP Evans in 1978. (See Fourth Floor Memos)
In 1978 I crewed a flight, Port Moresby to Hong Kong, arriving on curfew at 10.00 PM and nearly midnight by the time we arrived and changed at the hotel. We, the crew, had had a miserable flight up spending most of it avoiding en route storms and had not been able to consume our in flight meals. At this hour it was not possible to get room service at the hotel so we all retired to bed somewhat hungry.
I awoke the next morning at 0600 and again tried to get a meal through room service. As this was not available until 0730 I got up, showered, dressed and made myself a cup of coffee. To pass the time I started to read a book and lit my first cigarette for the day. Unfortunately I fell asleep while lying on the bed. The unsmoked, but lit cigarette overbalanced from the bedside tray and dropped onto the queen sized foam rubber mattress.
The next thing I knew there was a furious banging and hysterical shouting at my door. I got up, eyes stinging from the smoke and opened the door. As it opened it I received the first of 10 buckets of water being wielded by very excited and perhaps scared Chinese hotel staff. Water went everywhere, over the bed, carpet, me and my uniform hanging in the wardrobe. Ten buckets of water expended, much excited discussion and still the foam mattress was smouldering. Obviously the finer points of fire fighting were not high on the list of hotel training. I dampened a face towel, compressed it into the small burn hole and extinguished it.
Surveying the sodden mess in my room I realised that first on the agenda was to launder and dry my uniform. I emptied the water from my shoes, changed into some dry clothes and went in search for a laundry that could process everything in reasonable time that day.
On returning to the hotel I was met by the manager who presented me with a bill that would allow mattress and bed linen replacement, re-carpet and paint the room and still have several thousand dollars change. I deflected his demands by saying that the bill was over my card limit and that I wanted a more detailed quote.
A couple of weeks later I received a memo from OP. I rang him and said I would be in immediately. I should have known that he was having a bit of fun, particularly when I noticed that the secretaries were giggling and he and Dave Campbell were smirking when I walked in. I managed to get out an indignant “You can’t put that on my file” before there was laughter all round and I realised I had been set up. We discussed the various points of the memo during which I suggested that we change hotels on the basis that they did not have a fire sprinkler system and had poor fire fighting training. I have always believed that attack is the best form of defence.
The change of hotels came surprisingly quickly. The reason considered by many was that the change was due to my pyrotechnic efforts.
Some years later Air Niugini again negotiated a contract for crew overnight accommodation with that same hotel. During talks with hotel management the manager asked if Captain Moore would be returning. He had not forgotten.
One would think that with the passing of many years the stories would die down. This was not to be.
In 1987 I carried out a flight to Sydney with Avern Game and Bill Crick. At the hotel check in it was decided that we would meet back in the foyer in 30 minutes to go for a couple of “convivial beverages” at a nearby Leagues Club. At the elevator Avern jokingly said “don’t set your room on fire”.
In my room I hung up the next day’s uniform and noticed that the shirt was creased. Rather than iron it I decided to hang it in the shower and let the steam remove the wrinkles. Shower finished I turned the water back onto full hot. Before I could dry off there was a loud knocking on the door with someone querying if I was alright. Wrapping a towel around myself and still dripping wet I opened the door to find a female assistant manager asking if she could come in to check for fire. I told her there was no fire however she still insisted that she had to remain in the room until the alert was cleared. Her eyebrows shot up a little when she noticed plumes of steam issuing from the bathroom door. We had a short discussion about the substandard smoke alarms that the hotel had installed. Shortly afterwards a fireman entered the room and set about deactivating the faulty alarm. By now I realised that my fellow crew members would be waiting for me. I said to her that I would like to get dressed and suggested that she leave. She responded by saying “don’t let me stop you”. Turning around to get a shirt off the bed I was somewhat startled to see a fireman on a ladder outside my 6th floor window. The cheeky sod was blowing kisses. I gave him a two finger salute and snapped the curtains shut. Having got dressed my studied exit was somewhat spoilt by the lady saying “Don’t forget your key”.
Downstairs I was asked what had kept me. I said that I would tell them when I had a beer. Outside the story was out when the other two spotted the three fire trucks in attendance and a ladder still retracting. Despite my denials of fire in my room, they refused to believe me. What might have been a slight rekindling of previous exploits became a raging inferno in the hands of Raconteur Crick and Captain Motor Mouth Game.
Many would say “That where there is smoke there is fire”. In my case, just smoke and steam.
