I too became an artist at "stacking the hangar" with as many planes as I could - high wings over low wings, tails in corners, etc. Once I was helping an owner hand-roll out his beautiful glossy Bellanca Viking. He was just hauling it, and I was trying to move it carefully... anyway I saw the leading edge about to strike the edge of the hangar door due to his impatient tugging and instinctively, stupidly
jammed my own hand between them to avoid damaging the leading edge and its rubber de-icing boot. Better to take the hit myself than damage an airplane, was the instinct that had been drilled into me.
Wound up with a tiny 1/4" ding there on the leading edge anyway. Hand was OK, not much weight or momentum. The owner looked at me like I was insane; he was totally unconcerned about such damage. But I was. And yes, I cleaned windshields, every time, every customer - with the right special solution and the special chamois (no paper towels!) that was guaranteed not to microscratch the Plexi, so that one day the Sun wouldn't splash glare all over the scratched-up windscreen on final.
Our competitor was a difficult character - he would do anything to steal a customer. First his linemen got replaced with "line bunnies" and quite a few times I'd be flagging a jet onto our ramp when the PIC caught sight of the hot-pantsed line cuties and the nosewheel would go hard over towards them. I'd shrug and laugh, because they had just traded experienced line service for some chickies and a couple of guys who were basically just gas pumpers. This was proven when one day I had just tied down a 206. The competitor latched onto him somehow and lowballed the pilot on fuel and threw in a a free dinner and who knows, maybe a free overnight hangaring.
OK, all's fair. The 206 owner came in and said he wished to do business with the competition. That was fine with us, we said, have him tow you where you want to go, sir. Their oaf arrived, took off both wing tiedown chains I had installed, hooked 'er up to the towbar, and slammed his tug into reverse. I had just opened my mouth to yell "STOP!" when the next sound was a loud CRUNK! as a big fat wrinkle appeared across the top aft fuselage of the 206 and God-knows-what major interior structures broke. He had forgotten to remove the tail tiedown chain. Heyyyy... bargain service! Man, I wish I had been a fly on the wall when they had to tell that customer that they had seriously damaged his airplane and it wasn't going to be flying for a good while. Hope that free meal was good.
Another time "Mr. Snooty" wanted his Learjet parked. That's all, just parked for a few hours when he went into town. No fuel needed. "Stay away from the jet", he growled, staring at me as he ostentatiously locked up the cabin. Fine with us, we lent him the crew car and off he went. I had him securely chocked and ready to go the instant he returned. Maybe he'd buy some fuel next time. Only.... after about 15 minutes I noticed the Lear was sitting decidedly cockeyed on its gear. I put my ear up against the fuselage and heard the busy whine of a fuel transfer pump. The low-side tip tank got lower...and lower...
When Mr. Snooty got back he was greeted by the sight of his Lear in a 35-degree bank with 1 main gear dangling in the air and a pile of old tires cushioning the full tip tank from contact with the ramp. That was all we could come up with on short notice to remedy his PILOT ERROR.... but if he had trusted us enough to leave the cabin open we could have at least turned off the master switch. Personally, I don't know jack about a Lear's panel and would never have entered a customer's airplane like that or touched its controls for any reason except an emergency. This qualified. But I woulda grabbed my line chief for a witness/helper and between us we could have figured it out and cut that fuel transfer. As soon as I ran in and told him what was happening, he grasped it immediately and out we went, rolling every old tire we had out of the hangar.
Oh yeah, I also learned.. there are ONLY TWO types of pilots who do a thorough preflight. Professionals and student pilots.
And I had watched my line chief boss go out into a 90-MPH wind (freak T-storm) and physically HOLD DOWN the wildly bucking tail of an ancient never-flown piston Aero Commander that was thrashing against its tiedowns so hard it threatened structural damage. Basically, he risked his life (debris was flying thru the air at 60+ MPH) to avoid ANY damage to the crappiest plane on our ramp. That night was like a tornado - and next day our competitor's ramp looked like a debris field, damaged planes flipped over, on top of each other, half his tiedown chains failed, etc. Our line was 100% intact - because we stayed there overnight to make SURE.
And if the wind was over 20 kts and it swung around enough, yes, I WOULD go out and turn around every single plane on our ramp so it faced into the wind. SOP for us. Finally I had done my time, and was promoted to Night Line Chief. Slow shift, but the whole place was mine. I used to amuse myself adding up the $$ value of the planes in my custody. Not bad for a kid of 21.... $30 million+ entrusted to me.
One time I flagged and parked some bizjet, and the pilot took a dislike to me on the spot, probably because I had a short, well-trimmed beard and long hair I wore in a ponytail, usually tucked up under my cap. He ran into the office and confronted the owner of our FBO, who after 20 years in the FBO biz was one formidable lady. "I'm not leaving my X-million$ jet with that goddam hippie!" he shouted.
She took a long, steady look at him. "Well, we trust him." she said quietly.
"What kind of qualifications does he have?"
She said "Well, first he's a licensed pilot himself. And, he has a college degree." Roger Ramjet turned away, beaten. He'd never seen the inside of a college classroom. A satisfying moment...
Then there were all the owner-pilots who rarely flew. My standing deal was 1 complete, thorough plane wash (filthy asphalted, oily belly too, of course) from a pilot who knew what the static and pitot systems were and why they HAD to remain 1000% clear, for 1 hr with her in the air. I got to log PIC time in a rare old C-175, a Cardinal, all sorts of planes.
The local instructor took me along on all his air taxis and gave me the left seat on the way back, etc. We flew a Swearingen Merlin II and a lovely piston Aero Commander, an odd older model with 2 8-cylinder engines. I got a LOT of L-seat twin time in that airplane. Then the owner sold it off, and not long after that the news reached us. At VCT Victoria, Texas, some um, alleged line-person had topped her up. With Jet-A. She made a decent sit-down in farmer's field just off the far end, but sustained irreparable damage. A lineman who can't tell the difference between a piston Commander and a Turbo Commander? Inconceivable! - but I guess they had one. And a pilot who didn't re-check fuel cap security and dip his finger and smell the kerosene. Well, a lineman did exactly that to Bob Hoover's Shrike Commander once (after Bob had emphasized he wanted avgas
twice to the lineman) - so nobody's immune.
I could write a book about what I learned working the line. Mostly, I learned that we are an essential link in the Safety Chain. Maybe 1 out of 100 pilots would recheck my fuel cap replacement, but I loved it when they did.
FOD? After every shift my jeans pockets were full of every pebble, nut, bolt, washer, even candy wrapper I had found on our ramp. Nobody told me to do this, but I considered it part of the job.
