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Thursday, September 19, 2013

Whitestone - Chemtrail pt1

I’m no expert on these types of things
I just do what I’m told
I follow directions
I adhere to my training

Every night I make my way out onto the ramp in LosAngeles
Usually with a pleasant ocean breeze washing over the airport
Bright orangey stadium lights on all around the concrete aircraft ramps

I wear a white Tyvek suit with a small black scripted “Whitesone Servicing” upon the left breast
And the mandatory airport issued badge strapped to my upper right arm
I could be most anybody seen from a distance
Which is usually how everyone sees me
As I try not to go about my rounds when there are a lot of people about

Driving my ramp-short Jeep towing the combination tank and man lift trailer
Looking much like a lavatory service unit
All painted in a dull white color
“Whitestone Servicing” on a small sign on each door
Yellow light on top of the cab flashing steadily


Nothing to see here
Nothing to notice
Move along
Move along

There is an aluminum clipboard resting on the passenger seat
Upon it are tonight’s papers
Generated at eleven pm on the dot
Every single night

On them is a list of aircraft
Listed by registration number, approximate parking area, and type of airplane.

Tonight there are twelve airplanes on the list
Starting with an Air Asiatic Boeing 747-400
Located in a dim corner of the transient parking ramp
Not too far from my starting point
My small half round shed off the side of the unused old military ramp

I take in the scene ahead
No personnel evident in the area

Security aware of my presence
But giving me a wide berth
With the three airport patrol cars in other areas of the field

They go on the whole
“If I don’t know about it then I can’t talk about it”
Theory of security
Which is similar to “Loose lips sink ships”
But taken half a step further

The three story tall aircraft looms large in my windshield now
And I veer off slowly over to the left wingtip area
Carefully positioning my trailer below a particular panel on the underside skin of the wing
Brakes silently hauling the rig to a stop
I slip the transmission into park and set the parking brake firmly
Leaving the diesel engine to idle lazily in the still night

Picking up the clipboard from the passenger seat
I glance at my watch and make a note on the form next to this aircraft’s registration line

0803Z – LH wing

Time to get started