All planespotters belong to the same genus, but their behaviors divide them into different species. Some spotters want to see every plane at a particular airport. Others, known as fleeters, focus on a single manufacturer, type of plane or airline. One of the most popular variations is to collect liveries (paint schemes, to ordinary fliers). Southwest has three Boeing 737s that look like Seaworld's Shamu the killer whale; bagging the trio is a big deal.
Even a single aircraft can provide a basis for obsession. A plane's history can span multiple airlines, continents, paint schemes and eras. But to access it, some decoding is required. Every commercial aircraft in the world carries two alphanumeric identifiers. The first, usually painted in large characters on the tail, wing or body, is the registration number. (On U.S. aircraft, it starts with an N.) The second, too small to be seen from afar, is the manufacturer-issued serial number. By plugging the registration number into a database, a planespotter can match it to the serial, which is then indexed by airline, aircraft and dates of service and manufacture.
"It isn't enough to see a plane just once," Yeung says. "You're always looking for the perfect shot, the right angle, the right moment." As a result, spotters amass a deep reservoir of photos, which they post at Web sites such as jetphotos.net. The online destination hosts one of the largest collections of aircraft images in the world: more than a million, with contributions from more than 7800 photographers.
Mark Abbott, an engineer from Denver, has posted nearly 10,000 images. He also keeps a detailed personal Web site, where he records every flight he's ever taken (552) and the airlines he's flown (46). "I pretty much travel in order to see planes, and the other stuff I do comes second," Abbott says. He notes mileage, registration numbers and ticket prices, along with miscellaneous trivia: Flying from Denver to Los Angeles in 2001, Abbott sat next to Pat Boone.
Even small-scale shooters can gain fame online with the right image. That's why, on a Thursday afternoon at Imperial Hill, Yeung is looking for the Qatar. If he's first to snap this out-of-place plane, he's guaranteed a large audience. He ultimately gets the photos, but decides that they are too overcast to post. The perfect shot is an elusive thing.
Not long after I start visiting LAX, I encounter the most rarefied form of spotter: someone who works inside the airport. Dale Elhardt helps maintain the airport's electronic systems—from Doppler radar to telephones—and he's spent much of his life trying to get into the Federal Aviation Administration tower where he now works. On the ground floor of the 19-story structure are five display cases of model aircraft that Elhardt built by hand. In this job, he says, "I can get close enough to what I'm building to use it as a reference."
Elhardt leads me into an elevator, and we rise to the tower's 16th floor. There are no offices or cubicles here, just machinery and a wide doorway leading to an antenna platform. We step outside and I almost lose my breath. Night has fallen over LAX, and in the eastern sky I can see the lights of dozens of aircraft strung out in formation, waiting to descend over the crowded, eight-lane Century Boulevard and land on the north and south runways on either side of the tower. Every 2 minutes, the queue advances; the distant, flashing lights become 747s and MD-11s, corporate jets and cargo planes as they roar in beside us. Elhardt has been watching this carefully orchestrated choreography for years, and it never fails to excite him.
"This is what I'm here for," he says.
Source: http://www.popularmechanics.com/science/air_space/4261265.html?page=2
Even a single aircraft can provide a basis for obsession. A plane's history can span multiple airlines, continents, paint schemes and eras. But to access it, some decoding is required. Every commercial aircraft in the world carries two alphanumeric identifiers. The first, usually painted in large characters on the tail, wing or body, is the registration number. (On U.S. aircraft, it starts with an N.) The second, too small to be seen from afar, is the manufacturer-issued serial number. By plugging the registration number into a database, a planespotter can match it to the serial, which is then indexed by airline, aircraft and dates of service and manufacture.
"It isn't enough to see a plane just once," Yeung says. "You're always looking for the perfect shot, the right angle, the right moment." As a result, spotters amass a deep reservoir of photos, which they post at Web sites such as jetphotos.net. The online destination hosts one of the largest collections of aircraft images in the world: more than a million, with contributions from more than 7800 photographers.
Mark Abbott, an engineer from Denver, has posted nearly 10,000 images. He also keeps a detailed personal Web site, where he records every flight he's ever taken (552) and the airlines he's flown (46). "I pretty much travel in order to see planes, and the other stuff I do comes second," Abbott says. He notes mileage, registration numbers and ticket prices, along with miscellaneous trivia: Flying from Denver to Los Angeles in 2001, Abbott sat next to Pat Boone.
Even small-scale shooters can gain fame online with the right image. That's why, on a Thursday afternoon at Imperial Hill, Yeung is looking for the Qatar. If he's first to snap this out-of-place plane, he's guaranteed a large audience. He ultimately gets the photos, but decides that they are too overcast to post. The perfect shot is an elusive thing.
Not long after I start visiting LAX, I encounter the most rarefied form of spotter: someone who works inside the airport. Dale Elhardt helps maintain the airport's electronic systems—from Doppler radar to telephones—and he's spent much of his life trying to get into the Federal Aviation Administration tower where he now works. On the ground floor of the 19-story structure are five display cases of model aircraft that Elhardt built by hand. In this job, he says, "I can get close enough to what I'm building to use it as a reference."
Elhardt leads me into an elevator, and we rise to the tower's 16th floor. There are no offices or cubicles here, just machinery and a wide doorway leading to an antenna platform. We step outside and I almost lose my breath. Night has fallen over LAX, and in the eastern sky I can see the lights of dozens of aircraft strung out in formation, waiting to descend over the crowded, eight-lane Century Boulevard and land on the north and south runways on either side of the tower. Every 2 minutes, the queue advances; the distant, flashing lights become 747s and MD-11s, corporate jets and cargo planes as they roar in beside us. Elhardt has been watching this carefully orchestrated choreography for years, and it never fails to excite him.
"This is what I'm here for," he says.
Source: http://www.popularmechanics.com/science/air_space/4261265.html?page=2
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