“Jacket 47 gooooooood evening. Taxi Alpha, Alpha 1, Bravo, Bravo 1, wind 160 at 14 altimeter 29.97,” said the all too familiar ground controller. As I released the brakes and pulled out of the tie down spot to taxi, the only thing on my mind was that this was just another ordinary flight. You see, as pilots, it’s very easy to take flying for granted. We hear the same ATIS followed by the same taxi instructions to the same runway headed in the same general direction. It’s often times all too same and this time was, quite frankly, just the same. However, in the back of the plane today was my brother. A young soul, fresh into the world of aviation, tagging along for a night flight across the Dallas, TX skyline. Tonight’s goal was to hop over to a nearby airport, do a few night landings, and then head home. I sat in the left seat of the glass-panel Piper Seminole, a plane that I had grown to enjoy flying as I learned the beauty of the multi-engine airplane. My instructor occupied the right seat and the 3 of us made our way to the run up area. Shortly after the runup, I approached the hold short line and made my call. “Tower, Jacket 47, runway 18, ready for departure.” Tower replied, “Jacket 47 runway 18 cleared for take off fly runway heading.” As I advanced the throttle to bring the airplane across the hold short line, I began my usual routine of sarcastically talking to myself. “LIGHTS, PITOT HEAT, TAKE OFF TIME. Alrighty folks I see 18, the compass says 18 and we were cleared for…you guessed it…18. We’re gonna hold the brakes, mixture, props, throttle, power comes to 20 inches. Green, green, green, everything is in the green. The grinch is also green. Full throttle. Release the brakes.” The plane threw me back into my seat as it jolted forward to begin tearing down the runway. The two engines of the Seminole are no GE 90s, but big enough to get the adrenaline going. “There’s 30, 40, 53, 65 nose starts to get light, 75 annnndddd rotate. Positive rate and through 88 below 109 gear coming up.” As the plane continued to climb like it did every other day I flew it, I began to look in the direction I would eventually turn to. I could see the yellow halo of the thousands of lights that illuminated the dark sky over Dallas. I could see the familiar buildings and colors of the Dallas skyline. 500 feet AGL and I was already excited for the night flight as the plane climbed like a homesick angel. As I looked to engage the autopilot, I did one final glance outside and in that moment all I saw was the beautiful yellow glow disappear from my front windshield. “Oh shit. That’s an engine failure.” The nose of the aircraft violently jerked left as the loss of an engine eliminated our climb and coordination. I pushed hard on the yoke to bring the nose down, lifting everyone out of their seats like the initial drop of a roller coaster. I could feel the blood rushing into my body as I said “think, think, think. What comes next?” You spend countless hours practicing stalls, engine failures, engine fires, all for it to lead up to this moment. However, nobody accounts for the “oh shit” factor. Realizing, that I wasn’t going to think my way out of this, I let my mind lose and my body take control. My hands moved swiftly through the cockpit like a pianist playing Beethoven’s last symphony. “Control, power, drag, identify verify,” I said, as I cleaned up the aircraft with seamless flows. “Tower, jacket 47 we’re coming back around.” A quick glance at my airspeed and the rest was left for intuition. There was no time to think. There was no time to square my turns. This landing was going to strictly be experience. Whether or not my brother or instructor said anything will always be a mystery as my mind was locked in and all the external distractions locked out. This was my airplane, and I was going to land it. I made my doglegged turn to final and did my final check “gear, flaps, gear.” As I held the plane in a steady descent, I could hear Hans Zimmer’s No Time for Caution playing through my Bose A20’s. Through the music, my instructor’s next few words echoed through the headset. “Both engines are yours for landing. Take it on the roll.” In disbelief, I slowly took both throttles and nudged them forward to verify what I had heard. Through the distraction of a passenger and his silence during the engine failure, that sly sucker got me. It was just a simulated engine failure. - Tahir