Revenge between flying instructors and air traffic controllers might be out of place on the airwaves, but I took it anyway.

There was a controller in the Circus Airport Tower who seemed to take pleasure in giving me a hard time.

Mr. Miserable was working in the tower by himself when I was giving Melville Passmore a night instrument flying lesson. It was late, and there was no other air traffic in the Circus area. Melville and I took off for a local flight to the southwest. Melville called clear of the five-mile control zone, but we left the radio on that frequency.

Several minutes later, the controller made an announcement.

"All air traffic in the Circus area be advised that the control tower frequency will be unmanned for several minutes. Any aircraft requiring communications with Circus Tower please advise."

There was no reply.

This could only mean one thing. Mr. Miserable had to go to the bathroom which, in the standard tower layout, was down the metal spiral staircase to the second floor. The cross-legged controller would be turning up his receiver volume and trotting downstairs.

I waited one minute. Melville was practising flying on instruments under a hood. When I figured that Mr. Miserable was seated comfortably on the can with the door open, I picked up our microphone, summoned my deepest, deep voice.

"Circus Tower, this is Major Airlines training flight triple-three, a DC-8 heavy. Toronto is a little tied up right now, and we're looking for some approach practise. Go ahead your airport advisory."

Five seconds later, I called again.

"Circus tower, Major triple-three, do you read?" I boomed.

Illustration by Francois Bougie

I pictured the controller scrambling up the stairs trailing his pants and maybe some toilet paper.

"Major triple-three heavy," came a breathless, squeaky reply, the winds are 200 degrees at five, altimeter 30.02, active Runway 24, we have one aircraft to the southwest, over?"

I did not reply.

Melville flew along happily trying to keep the Cherokee straight without looking outside.

"Major triple-three heavy, Circus Tower, do you read?"

I asked Melville to try a gentle turn.

"Charlie India Romeo Charlie Uniform Sierra, Circus Tower, do you read?"

I still didn't reply. I was clear of the Circus control zone and could have legitimately changed frequencies. Besides, I knew I couldn’t keep the smirk out of my voice.