Kayuri on Ao3/ https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayuri Certified Gremlin DNI if you're: Ableist, a Bigot, ship incest/underage (Blankship, etc), are an exclusionist queerphobic, and especially not if you're Anti Endo.
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OKAY this one isn't going to be quite as long as the gimli glider post but. you know what. it's monday and i have a cold. let's talk about TACA FLIGHT 110. the short version: in may of 1988, a boeing 737 lost all engines and glided to safety. the long version?
i have never heard this story told without it first spending some time gushing over the pilot, Carlos Dárdano, and who am i to break tradition?
this picture was taken recently, when captain dándaro finally retired. and it's just such a cute picture okay.
dándaro was born in El Salvador in 1958, and by the age of 16 was already flying as a pilot with a pretty ridiculous number of hours for his age. as a result, he was sent to florida, USA, for more training and to get his commercial license. the future TACA 110 would not, in fact, be his first aviation incident: at the age of 23, he was transporting passengers to a remote site in El Salvador when they were set upon by very armed guerillas. dándaro managed to take off his small plane with his passengers safely... but not before getting shot in the head. he lost his left eye. because he'd been shot in the head. while flying an airplane.
this would probably be enough to make me give up the career, but not captain dándaro! once recovered, he was able to get special dispensation to prove he was still able to fly (with one eye and zero depth perception), and kept on trucking. all this is to say that by 1988, dándaro was only 29 years old, and yet had logged an incredible amount of experience behind the rudder.
TACA 110 was, similar to the Gimli Glider, a brand new boeing 737. this isn't to suggest 737s are uniquely prone to crashing -- if anything, the fact that these are two worst case scenarios with (spoilers!) no deaths/injuries prove they're pretty good planes -- but i think the newness probably still was a factor, in that they were modern (to the time) airplanes with features the pilots maybe weren't quite used to yet. in fact, TACA had only owned their 737 for about a week, and there was actually a third pilot on the flight just to observe their shiny new airplane, which was planned to fly from San Salvador to New Orleans.
let's talk, for a second, about engines.
airplane engines work in large part by sucking in air and using that air to create power. since there's more things in the sky than just air, plane engines are designed to be pretty sturdy: they can handle a lot of water with no problem, and even (smallish) birds -- most famous bird strike accidents involve either a lot of birds or Canada Geese. pilots try to avoid flocks of birds or Massive Amounts Of Water, but an airplane is perfectly capable of flying through bad rain. that said, airplanes have weather radar for just this purpose... but also, it was 1988.
as TACA 110 started to descend towards new orleans, it ran into several large thunderstorms. there was no way around them; it was raining hard. the only thing to do is try to navigate safely through. and again! airplanes can do this! it's fine!
since it was 1988, i'm assuming this radar was even smaller and had fewer colors than this Artist's Interpretation, but this is close enough for our purposes. in thunderstorm airplane radar standards, red = Very Bad, so TACA decided to try and fly between the red spots. simple! easy!
i bet you can tell exactly where this story is going!
because TACA was descending for landing, this means that their engines were already at a lower speed. think of a window fan, right? at high speed, the propellers are kind of just a blur: at lower speed, there's little gaps. and here's a fun fact for you: it turns out that weather radar isn't very good at predicting hail.
captain dándaro aimed his plane for a spot on the radar that was still rainy, but not red. however, it turns out that the blue zone was hiding a third, even bigger red zone, and almost as soon as TACA 110 flew into that section they realized their mistake. this is where things get dangerous: in a storm, forget rain, forget lightning (a plane can, believe it or not, handle a lightning strike -- it's not ideal, but it's not instant game over): wind is going in every direction at once, visibility is zero, and just keeping the plane at a steady angle becomes incredibly difficult. don't forget: planes rely on Aerodynamics. they can turn, gain speed, loose speed, do all sorts of things: but ultimately, you need to maintain a certain safe range to stay in the air. because they were also flying at a lower speed with less engine power, this was even more difficult: power is what lets you maneuver quickly.
(in fact, after this accident, the FAA and regulators began advising that the first thing you should do in these conditions is increase engine power.)
we're now in a pretty dangerous situation, and standard procedure is to Get The Hell Out Of There, which is what TACA 110 proceeded to do.
and that's when the engines shut off.
see: airplanes are tested and certified to handle water. to handle buckets of water. they will spray firehoses into those things to certify that even with water park levels of water, the engines will keep working. but in 1988? they hadn't really tested for hail. a little bit of hail isn't a huge problem, after all. engines can handle water! engines can handle a bit of ice or snow! and the engineers had assumed that a lot of hail would basically behave the same way as a lot of water.
here's a pro tip: it doesn't. hail is solid. it has mass that water droplets do not. and these engines, again, going more slowly than normal, had just enough "gaps" that the hail could sneak through. go spray water at a window fan at high speed. it'll deflect a lot of the water, but not all. a lot is fine, by airplane engine standards.
now do it at low speed. with ice.
you see the difference.
the 737's engines went out. they're in the middle of a thunderstorm with no power. this particular airplane had an APU, a battery-powered backup generator, which kicked in and restored some systems -- but not the engines. TACA 110 was officially a glider.
but obviously, this was no problem for captain dándaro!
first things first, he had to get them out of the storm, which he managed relatively quickly: that was the easy part. he and the first officer then tried to get the engines back online, but they were fried: they actually were able to start both up, but they were producing only idle power, and started to overheat, so dándaro decided to turn them off again: fuck it, we're doing it live. he called a Mayday, and ATC jumped in to get them any airport or any runway their hearts desired, but...
they were already descending.
the Gimli Glider lost engines at the top of their flight altitude, and had a luxurious 17 minutes to plan, find a runway, and land. TACA was at 10,000 feet when they lost their engines -- a third as high. they simply weren't going to make it to any airport, and so decided to ditch the airplane -- land it on anything that looked remotely safe enough.
they were outside of new orleans, which, if you didn't know, is a city surrounded by canals and rivers. as far as crash landings go, this is ideal: you want a long, straight Surface, and a canal is just that. water landings are rough, and dangerous, but they began to prepare for just that: telling the cabin crew, setting up the airplane, trying to get nice and low and slow to nail this landing. at the last minute, however, the first officer noticed a levee off to the side, which is even better: long and straight and flat, but land.
dándaro immediately realized this was definitely the better option, and they should definitely land there instead. the problem? TACA had been aiming for some water farther away. they were too high and fast to land on this leevee, and did not have the time or altitude to turn around and give it a second shot. so what do you do?
that's right!
you drift that sucker.
captain dándaro immediately threw TACA 110 into a perfect side slip, drifting the plane to lose speed and height and line up with that levee. and when i say it was a perfect landing, i am not kidding you: the plane had absolutely no damage. it was flawless. it landed smooth as butter, came to a gentle stop, and everyone was perfectly fine.
for a minute, no one was quite sure what to do. they were safe! they made it! do they evacuate? as a note, this is actually a real consideration: emergency evacuations will always cause minor injuries to passengers (they're not designed for comfort, they're designed to save lives: flight crews WILL throw you out the door if they need to), so if everyone is uninjured, do we really want to sprain some ankles and cause some friction burns after the accident is over? but, on the other hand, those engines were acting screwy; better safe than sorry.
note: in this picture, you can see a white spot on the plane's nose from the hail damage.
the crew and passengers evacuated safely... only for the thunderstorm they had just flown out of to hit them, leaving them all drenched and in the rain.
except, of course, for captain dándaro. i mean, it was raining. he didn't wanna go out in that! so while his cabin crew and passengers got soaked, he waited out the storm in the cockpit. and you know what? good for him.
emergency services and the NTSB were quickly on scene, and everyone was fine. TACA 110 was so undamaged that, after some repair work to the engines, it was towed to a nearby runway, fuelled, and flown (by test pilots, not dándaro -- although i'm positive he was capable) to new orleans's airport. i'm not sure what happened to it after that -- probably it flew on for another few decades -- but captain dándaro was naturally celebrated for his incredible airmanship and continued to fly for another several decades, retiring fairly recently after 49 years as a pilot.
i don't really have a funny ending to this story. it's just really cool. love the gimli glider, don't get me wrong, but when it comes to insane feats of drifting airmanship, you really can't do better than TACA 110.
[id. A twitter post by @/Bennieeexyz
Jury duty letter came addressed to my cat.
Not a mistake. "Felix Martinez" - that's his full name according to his vet records.
My last name. His first name. Somehow he's a registered voter now.
Called the county clerk.
Me: My cat got summoned for jury duty.
Clerk: Is the name correct on the summons?
Me: Yes, but he's a cat.
Clerk: Is Felix Martinez a legal resident of this county?
Me: He's a legal cat.
Clerk: Sir, if the name matches our records, he needs to appear or file an exemption.
Me: He can't file anything. He has paws.
Clerk: You can file on his behalf.
Me: Under what exemption? There's no box for "is a cat."
Clerk: (pause) Check "unable to serve due to medical reasons."
Me: What's the medical reason?
Clerk: He's a cat.
Me: That's not a medical condition.
Clerk: It is if it prevents him from serving.
Sent in the form. Got rejected two weeks later.
"Insufficient documentation. Please provide medical professional's statement."
Took the letter to my vet.
Me: I need you to write that my cat can't do jury duty.
Vet: Why is your cat summoned for jury duty?
Me: Excellent question. No good answer.
Vet: This is the weirdest request I've gotten.
Me: Can you just write that he's medically unfit to serve?
Vet: On what grounds?
Me: He's a cat.
Vet: (started typing) "Patient is unable to serve due to species-related limitations including inability to speak, read, or comprehend legal proceedings."
Me: Perfect.
Sent it in. Got another rejection.
"Summons is mandatory. Failure to appear will result in contempt of court."
My roommate thought this was hilarious.
Roommate: Felix is going to jail.
Me: This is serious.
Roommate: Bring him to court. See what happens.
Decided that was actually the only option left.
Day of jury duty, put Felix in his carrier. Brought the entire paper trail of rejection letters.
Checked in at the courthouse.
Clerk: Name?
Me: Felix Martinez.
Clerk: (looked at the cat carrier) Is that Felix?
Me: Yes.
Clerk: (long stare) He's a cat.
Me: I've been saying that for six weeks.
Clerk: Why didn't you file an exemption?
Me: I filed three. All rejected.
Showed her the letters. She read through them, expression shifting from confusion to disbelief.
Clerk: Someone rejected the veterinary documentation?
Me: Twice.
Clerk: (called her supervisor over) You need to see this.
Supervisor read everything. Looked at Felix. Looked at me.
Supervisor: How did a cat get registered to vote?
Me: You tell me.
Supervisor: This is a data error.
Me: Took you six weeks to figure that out.
They dismissed Felix immediately. Apologized for the inconvenience.
Supervisor: We'll remove him from the voter registry.
Me: Appreciate it.
Supervisor: (pause) Out of curiosity, how would he have voted?
Me: Probably whatever party supports universal treats.
Got a formal apology letter a week later and a voter registration card.
For me this time. Apparently I wasn't registered, but my cat was.
Roommate: Felix committed voter fraud.
Me: Felix committed nothing. He's innocent.
Roommate: That's what they all say.
Felix is sleeping on the jury summons now.
Fitting end to his legal career.
end id]
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Polyamory is safe for work. Polyamory is safe for kids. Polyamory is safe for day time tv. Polyamory isn’t more sexual than any other relationship and it can be just as romantic, sweet, and healthy.
Underutilized aesthetic: when you try to do something a little too specific with your modern OS and it pops up a window with a completely different UI style than the rest of your computer software to do it, usually from an older version of the OS
It's like in a fantasy setting when the protagonist enters this beautiful city with fancy paved roads and clear glass windows and impressive architecture everywhere, and then they have to go into the library to find An Important Fact, and as they probe deeper and deeper they go from fancy glass and marble to polished walnut to old beams and planks till it's nothing but a stone dungeon.
But in this case the stone dungeon is a networking stack configuration some trans furry coded for Microsoft in 1993 and it's still a crucial part of the entire process.
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it’s not weird to find fanfiction from 2021, or 2017, or 2014 that you’ve never read and actually taking your time to read it.
it’s not weird to love it and comment and leave kudos because the author will probably still see it someday and it will make them happy.
it’s not weird to like said author’s work so much that you want to go look for other fics from them.
it’s not weird to go through the authors profile and look for other fics from the ships you like (or maybe some that you’ll give a chance because you liked the author) and maybe bookmark them for later.
it’s not weird to read these other fics and like them too and comment on them because you actually like them and you want to let the author know.
it’s not weird to read fanfiction from 5, or 8, or 10 years ago and actually enjoy and engage with it because it’s perfectly normal to relate to something that’s less than a decade old!
let’s stop treating fanfiction like they’re instagram posts that stop being interesting in 24 hours! fanfiction is NOT social media, fanfiction is art!!! and art doesn’t get old in one day, one year, or even a decade!
read fanfiction! write fanfiction! comment on fanfiction! let’s not let fanculture die people!!!!!
Not only is it not weird, it is ACTIVELY ENCOURAGED. Authors LOVE IT when people do this!!! Its not "weird" and its not "neutral" -- its a fucking DELIGHT. Feel very absolutely free to read though an author's entire back catalogue, leaving kudos and/or comments along the way; we absolutely freaking love when someone does this. There is nothing more joyful than getting a comment notification for an old fic. It will make our day, I promise.
There needs to be a special word for the warm, gratifying feeling that you get when you watch someone kudos everything you've ever written in a specific fandom in backwards order over 3 days. and that word needs a modifier to express the inexpressible joy when they start leaving comments on every story no matter how old it is.
Back in my early twenties when I was hanging out a lot with Brendan and Charlie, I got introduced to possibly the most grueling board game in existence.
It was called War of the Ring. It was essentially the entirety of Lord of the Rings in a board game. You had all the troops and armies, and you tried to succeed in destroying the one ring while the other player(s) tried to stop you.
Have you ever wondered how long it would take to set up all the individual troops of Mordor and Middle Earth? Two hundred and forty game pieces all had to be placed. Just to start playing the game? It took. Forever.
An age of men passed in the time it took to set that game up. It took even longer to play obviously, sometimes spanning multiple sessions across the week because the boys took it seriously.
I did not particularly ever want to play War of the Ring because setup was such a grind all by itself. But I did love one thing about the ordeal. And that was that the boys had a house rule that was utterly whimsical and delighted me to no end.
Once all two hundred and forty pieces were standing at attention, the Nazgûl hunkered upon Mount Doom, the hobbits cozy in the Shire, Rohirrim galloping their fields, once every meticulous tiny figure was painstakingly placed. They rolled the dice. All four d6’s required for gameplay.
It was for Isildur.
To see if he cast the ring into the fire.
If it was all sixes Isildur succeeded and destroyed the ring and the game would then be packed away unplayed.
So before playing the chosen one would assume the role of Elrond and call “Isildurrrrrrr!!!” (and it was very important to roll the R as much as possible for maximum drama).
They would cast the dice, and Isildur inevitably claimed the ring, and the game commenced. This was a well established tradition before the first time I played. So the first time I joined I got to be Elrond and roll the Isildur dice.
I rolled. Three sixes. And one. Five.
The room erupted into screams. Chaos. We were all losing our minds.
“This is like Isildur got all way in and held it out, and tipped his hand 95% of the way before deciding to keep it!”
“This is like Isildur actually dropped it but then caught it at the last second!”
The moment lived in infamy for years afterward and sometimes we’d just throw back our heads and cry, “Isildurrrr!” in memory of that moment when Isildur got so close to casting away the ring.
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