The Computer Game that Changed My Life and Career

Comments I heard while I went through this process:

"What???"

"You're joking, right?"

"I just can't see you doing that, Ron"

At the time, I was totally convinced that this was the way to go. So, I hunkered down, intent on sharpening my mental skills and ace that ATC test. (Like memorizing the alphabet backwards - talk about useful life skills! Ha ha.) In hindsight I think that I was very enamored with the idea of the perceived perks of the job. After all, who wouldn't love to "fly free" as part of their continued "training" (sometimes called Familiarization Flights) for an Air Traffic position? Free jump seat rides up in the cockpit between the pilots? Uh, yeah, I'd love to do that! (I'd still like to do that!)

My Dramatic Career Redirection

Two things happened shortly after I began to move upward in my efforts to pass the air traffic control entrance exam... a person and a program.

The Stranger

Twenty years ago I was at a small church where you could stand up and ask for prayer requests on Wednesday nights. The exuberant Ron (that would be me) confidently stood and announced that he was becoming an air traffic controller. A few people smiled, others nodded. But it was the older "stranger" who approached me later, and her words, that became the first "chink" out of my flight suit.

She walked straight up to me and said, "About that air traffic controller job?"

"Yes?"

"You're too young to become old."

And then she walked away. Yep. Just like that. No fanfare, no further explanations. I'd never seen her before, and I've never seen her since.

That stopped me. Made me think.

Still, I kept going. Kept studying. Pouring over the ATC test guides, memorizing aircraft trivia and moving closer and closer toward that scary ATC exam. (Everyone sing along now: 'Z, Y, X, W, V, U, T...')

The "Program"

In the early 90's, computers were just starting to break out into the mainstream. Such was the case with a DOS based amber-screened computer that I used from time to time in the Calibration/Metrology Lab of the McDonnell Douglas Tomahawk Cruise Missile plant in Titusville, FL. During my lunch break I would boot the computer into a DOS-based game I'd purchased called, TRACON from Wesson International.

At the time, this air traffic simulator was the "must have" program for anyone who wanted a taste of what it was like to actually handle flights and planes. Why, it even managed to approximate a radio call from pilots as they piloted their planes across the simulated sweep of the radar scope.

Radio transmissions sounded something like this: "Delta -Sssssssssch-- Fli-ssssss-twenty -ssss-re---q-est--- ssssss permission--ssssssssch ta----off"

Honestly, if it wasn't for the text scrolling across the bottom of the screen, most of the garbled hissing messages playing from the 2" speaker would have been totally indecipherable. But still, for me, it added to the realism of the moment. I didn't even care if the radar screen stopped it's sweep during the announcement (the computer wasn't even powerful enough to play sounds and paint the screen simultaneously.)

But it was powerful enough to change my world.

On the fateful career-changing day, I'd grabbed my home-packed lunch of tuna fish on wheat, a bag of chips, and some kind of soda can of Coke. The simulated airport I'd picked was Ft. Lauderdale, FL, and I had around thirteen planes in the air. In between bites I would accept new planes from other controllers, ensure a proper altitude separation between aircraft of 1,000 feet and a horizontal separation of several miles. I'd also acknowledge departing and arriving flights from both the main airport and some smaller ones in the vicinity.

My intent was to play this as the real deal. And right now, everything was under control; all planes were accounted for. My sandwich was half gone, the chips the same. I was taking a sip of soda, content within myself that everything was alright in my simulated world. I was there. I was on top of things. Each flight was EXACTLY where it was supposed to be. I was Mr. Air Traffic Controller!

A Cessna radioed, asking for clearance to take off.

I acknowledged, instructing him to proceed with his take off run.

In the meantime, a PanAm 727 flight was descending through 8,000 feet, heading west at 270 degrees out over the Atlantic.

I took another bite of sandwich, my eyes travelling across the screen, hovering on each aircraft, taking in airspeed, altitude and heading.

No problems.

The departing Cessna's altitude was high enough to appear on my screen, an up arrow indicating that the twin engine aircraft was continuing to gain altitude.

"Radar contact," I called out to him. "Turn left to a heading of 360 (North). Climb and maintain 5,000 feet."

I took a sip of soda, looked up at the top of my screen. Acknowledged another take-off from a smaller inland airport then handed off another flight to another control center. Weather was clear, with no storm cells in the vicinity. The radar scope continued to sweep.

A very loud BEEP startled me, and an intense, bright circle drew on the screen over near the coastline.

The readout read: Separation Conflict.

What? The announcement surprised me. All of my aircraft were accounted for. Everyone was where they were supposed to be... right? What was going on?

The radar swept through another arc.

BEEP! Another circle appeared. Separation Conflict!

I looked closer within the circle; the soda can left my lips in a flash. There, on the circle's left, the Cessna was above 5,000 and continuing to climb, his heading 090 (East). On the circle's right side, the 727 continued to descend -- heading 270 (West). They were headed directly at each other; one climbing, the other descending.

Panicking, I clicked on the Cessna and radioed him to turn north and descend. I then radioed the PanAm 727 and ordered him turn south and climb. The radar sweep came around again...

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The screen flashed to black. Solid black. And then amber text typed across the screen:

"A collision has occurred between a
Cessna with 6 passengers
and a
PanAm 727 carrying 131 people.
You are responsible for the deaths of 137 people.
All scores and saved games have been erased from this computer.
We suggest you consult a phone book, find the name of a good psychologist,
and attempt to pick up the pieces of your life."

Below that, a simple DOS prompt blinked.

To say that my world was rocked would be an understatement.

I've not encountered many computer games that actually delete files when you fail, but this one certainly did. As I looked back on the incident over the days (months, years...) it's pretty clear to me that it was an accident. Of course it was an accident. The Cessna pilot failed to follow the directions I gave him; if he'd turned when he was supposed to turn after he'd taken off... if he'd not climbed above the ordered altitude...

But at the same time, I held some of the responsibility as well. I'd failed to re-confirm that he'd heard my transmission (the simulator included occasions when pilots failed to respond to radio calls... just like in real life).

The Headlines: 137 Dead in Plane Crash

137 Dead. That number still haunts me. Sure, you could argue that it's "just a game, Ron" -- but that's not how I was playing it. I had gone into the simulation with the mindset of total realism. I wasn't going to use a fast forward or "cheat" feature. I wanted it real. And real is what I got.

In the years since that day, I've often looked back and wondered if I would have made a good air traffic controller. I ended up going into the IT (Information Technology) field (my how those simple amber-screened computers have changed). Lately, it's been fun playing "Flight Control" on my daughter's iPhone, but honestly, I think I enjoy my interaction with people too much to have been locked into a job where radio conversations - by necessity - are terse, brief, sometimes garbled and sometimes ignored. The life and death decisions that an Air Traffic Control Center faces on a routine basis may have been just a wee bit much for me. And the fact that I haven't forgotten a computer simulation after two decades tells me something too.

Now whenever I travel, I have a great respect the men and women who guide the world's aircraft safely through the skies... and even across roads! (Yeah, really! Click here to read what I wrote about what they do at the crazy airport at Gibraltar!)

When it comes to air travel safety, may God guide all our Air Traffic Controllers, helping them to always be on alert... and may the simulated tragedies that befall my computer screen remain far, far from their actual radar screens.

Amen.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Other resources:

FAA's Air Traffic Controllers Webpage - Click Here

My humorous take on the crazy Gibraltar Runway - Click Here

Wikipedia's article on Wesson International's TRACON and TRACON II Program - Click Here