Contortionist Barbie
I feel like I spent most of my week stuffed into the tail boom of the aircraft. I didn't, of course, but I did spend a lot of time there on Thursday and Friday, and part of yesterday as well. And there's still more to do on Monday. Sigh. Actually, the worst part, hands down, was the install.
The tail boom install involves a good amount of discomfort- for everyone involved, not just the smallest person on the team (that would be me!). First, you get to cram yourself into the aft baggage compartment- the door isn't very big, and it's high enough off the ground that you need a ladder. So while you're trying not to rack your back or scrape your knees on the doorframe edges, you're also teetering precariously there and trying to figure out how to get yourself in there without a) knocking the ladder over, or b) getting yourself wedged so that you can't really move and can't reach whatever you're aiming for. It involves a lot of "oh, my torso doesn't bend that way..oops! Let's try this other way instead." and "well, if I put my foot over my head and brace there then maybe...." Oh, and let's not forget the velcro that grabs your hair and yanks. The whole process is kind of like bad sex, only with hydraulic fluid that sticks to everything, zipties that cut your hands open, and expensive electronics you have to be careful not to kick.
Once you're in there, with all your tools (did I mention those? You'll drop one out of the door at least once before you get yourself all the way situated. But if you're lucky, one of your teammates will grab it for you.), and all your hardware, a couple of your burlier compatriots will lift the boom into place. That's when the fun really begins- you have to make sure it doesn't snag any of the control cables or wires and line up the holes so you can get the hardware installed. Only they can't hear you too well from outside, and the thing is heavy, so while you're sweating and cursing and yelling "ROLL IT CLOCKWISE A LITTLE MORE," they're also sweating and cursing and yelling "ARE WE GOOD YET??? I CAN'T FEEL MY ARMS!!" It's all good fun.
Eventually, you get enough of the hardware installed that they can let go and wander off without the boom falling off and decapitating you. You, however, have to stay in there and install the rest of the hardware- make sure all the holes line up, make sure you haven't forgotten any washers, snug everything down, and then go back through and torque all of it. It feels like there's about a hundred or so bolts (there's actually only 33- I counted), and they have to be torqued in a cross pattern- so you start with the top one, then you flip yourself over and do the bottom one, then one side, then the other, then start back at the top again. And if you're REALLY lucky, you'll kick your torque wrench out of the baggage compartment, where it will drop five feet to the concrete floor and require recalibration before you can use it again, and necessitate you extracting yourself from the baggage compartment and wandering off to go borrow someone else's.
Result: One mostly reassembled AS350, and one sweaty, cramped, irritated mechanic who's seriously considering a career change...
The tail boom install involves a good amount of discomfort- for everyone involved, not just the smallest person on the team (that would be me!). First, you get to cram yourself into the aft baggage compartment- the door isn't very big, and it's high enough off the ground that you need a ladder. So while you're trying not to rack your back or scrape your knees on the doorframe edges, you're also teetering precariously there and trying to figure out how to get yourself in there without a) knocking the ladder over, or b) getting yourself wedged so that you can't really move and can't reach whatever you're aiming for. It involves a lot of "oh, my torso doesn't bend that way..oops! Let's try this other way instead." and "well, if I put my foot over my head and brace there then maybe...." Oh, and let's not forget the velcro that grabs your hair and yanks. The whole process is kind of like bad sex, only with hydraulic fluid that sticks to everything, zipties that cut your hands open, and expensive electronics you have to be careful not to kick.
Once you're in there, with all your tools (did I mention those? You'll drop one out of the door at least once before you get yourself all the way situated. But if you're lucky, one of your teammates will grab it for you.), and all your hardware, a couple of your burlier compatriots will lift the boom into place. That's when the fun really begins- you have to make sure it doesn't snag any of the control cables or wires and line up the holes so you can get the hardware installed. Only they can't hear you too well from outside, and the thing is heavy, so while you're sweating and cursing and yelling "ROLL IT CLOCKWISE A LITTLE MORE," they're also sweating and cursing and yelling "ARE WE GOOD YET??? I CAN'T FEEL MY ARMS!!" It's all good fun.
Eventually, you get enough of the hardware installed that they can let go and wander off without the boom falling off and decapitating you. You, however, have to stay in there and install the rest of the hardware- make sure all the holes line up, make sure you haven't forgotten any washers, snug everything down, and then go back through and torque all of it. It feels like there's about a hundred or so bolts (there's actually only 33- I counted), and they have to be torqued in a cross pattern- so you start with the top one, then you flip yourself over and do the bottom one, then one side, then the other, then start back at the top again. And if you're REALLY lucky, you'll kick your torque wrench out of the baggage compartment, where it will drop five feet to the concrete floor and require recalibration before you can use it again, and necessitate you extracting yourself from the baggage compartment and wandering off to go borrow someone else's.
Result: One mostly reassembled AS350, and one sweaty, cramped, irritated mechanic who's seriously considering a career change...