The pilot lounge at our crew base is just like every other one in the airline universe: some preschool-type art tables with folding chairs and walls covered with cork bulletin boards, which in turn are covered with the flotsam and jetsam of pilot life. There is the usual large screen television showing either the usual business channel or perhaps the latest from ESPN, depending on what sports season it is.I am sitting in one of a dozen black, worn-out, La-Z-Boy recliners. They are gathered in the back of the lounge to grant the sitters a little peace and quiet should they want to take a quick nap before they aviate. If they are serious commuters, they can always adjourn to the "quiet room." This is a room with two or three even more broken-down lounge chairs and a smattering of old blankets and coach pillows. The quiet room does have the advantage of being dark and perhaps even quiet if you aren't sharing it with a snorer.Snoring has become quite a subject of interest lately around my household. My spouse had been reminding me for years that I snored by gently stabbing me in the ribs with elbows and even fists. It had finally gotten to the point that this slightly overweight, middle-aged, subsonic jet jockey went in for a sleep study and a great discovery was made:I snore.And what's more, they found that occasionally I went into an apnea mode. No problem that couldn't be fixed with a rubber mouthpiece to wear at night that resembled two football mouth guards welded together. The problem turned out to be that when you mention the word "apnea" on a medical thingie, the FAA won't let you fly. Not until you wait a while and then take a wakefulness test proving you won't nod off at the stick.
This is a companion discussion topic for the original entry at https://www.avweb.com/features/ceo-of-the-cockpit-30-spring-cleaning