The Longest Loader Ride in Pearson History
Based on a true story
Every airport has its legends.
Some involve emergency landings. Some involve celebrities sneaking through the terminal unnoticed.
And then there’s the story of Eddie…
…the man who almost became part of the equipment inventory.
It happened during the glory days of Toronto Pearson’s old Terminal 2.
It was overtime. Of course it was.
Nothing good ever started with, “Hey Eddie, before you go home…”
The Lead Station Attendant walked over carrying a clipboard.
“Eddie, one more favour.”
Those four words have probably added ten years to the average ramp worker’s career.
“We need that old ramp loader moved from Gate 102 over to Main Millwrights.”
Eddie looked across the airport.
“You mean…THAT Main Millwrights?”
“The one on the other side of civilization.”
Outside, Mother Nature had apparently declared war on southern Ontario.
The temperature was somewhere around “Don’t Ask.”
The weather office simply stopped using numbers and switched to words like Ridiculous, Insane, and Why Are You Outside?
Sub-zero temperatures.
Freezing rain.
Wind that could sandblast paint off a 747.
Even the snowplows were calling in sick.
Eddie climbed aboard the ancient loader.
This wasn’t one of the newer models.
No.
This thing had probably helped load the Wright Brothers’ luggage.
Top speed?
About four miles an hour…
…with a tailwind…
…going downhill…
…while being pushed by three baggage handlers.
He fired it up.
The diesel engine coughed.
Sneezed.
Complained.
Filed a grievance.
Finally it began moving.
Very…
Very…
Very…
Slowly.
The trip from Gate 102 to Main Millwrights became less of a drive and more of an Arctic expedition.
At first Eddie was optimistic.
“Not so bad.”
Ten minutes later…
“I can’t feel my fingers.”
Twenty minutes later…
“I can’t feel my face.”
Thirty minutes later…
“I’m pretty sure my mustache just froze to my upper lip.”
Forty-five minutes later…
Icicles had formed everywhere.
His eyebrows looked like frozen windshield wipers.
His beard resembled a Christmas decoration.
His eyelashes had frozen together every time he blinked.
Even his nose hairs had surrendered.
Passing aircraft thought he was one of the taxiway lights.
Ramp crews driving by slowed down.
One guy yelled…
“Hey Eddie! Nice beard!”
Eddie tried to answer.
Only a small puff of frozen steam came out.
His lips refused to participate.
By the one-hour mark, the loader had covered an astonishing distance…
…roughly equivalent to one decent golf drive.
A baggage tug actually passed him.
Twice.
Then came back carrying coffee.
One mechanic later claimed he saw a family of Canada geese fly south…
…circle back north in the spring…
…and Eddie was still crossing the airport.
Finally…
One hour and thirty minutes later…
The loader crawled into Main Millwrights.
The mechanics looked outside.
“Is that the loader?”
“I think so.”
“Who’s driving it?”
“No idea.”
.”Eddie?”
Silence.
They poked him.
Still nothing.
He had frozen into the exact driving position.
Hands locked to the steering wheel.
Back perfectly straight.
Eyes staring ahead.
He looked less like an employee…
…and more like a department store mannequin modeling winter survival gear.
One mechanic laughed.
“I think he’s officially become company property.”
Another said…
“Don’t bend him! He’ll snap!”
Four mechanics carefully lifted Eddie
Not because he was heavy…
Because he was completely rigid.
He stayed standing in mid-air exactly as if he were still driving.
One mechanic whispered…
“This is the first human forklift attachment I’ve ever seen.”
Someone suggested warming him up beside the shop heater.
Another mechanic quickly yelled…
“No! You’ll crack him!”
Finally someone had the bright idea.
“Call 911!”
The paramedics arrived.
One looked at Eddie.
Another looked at the thermometer.
Then back at Eddie.
“I’ve seen frostbite…”
“…but I’ve never seen someone arrive pre-frozen.”
They carefully wrapped him in heated blankets.
One paramedic asked…
“Can you tell me your name?”
Several seconds passed.
Finally…
“…E…d…d…i…e…”
“What happened?”
“…o…v…e…r…t…i…m…e…”
The entire ambulance burst into laughter.
At the hospital, doctors confirmed severe frostbite, but thanks to quick treatment, Eddie would make a full recovery.
No fingers lost.
No toes lost.
No ears lost.
Just a tremendous amount of pride.
Several weeks later, Eddie returned to work.
As expected, the airport welcomed him back in the only way ramp crews know how.
Someone had placed a sign to the loader that read:
“Maximum Speed: 4 MPH… Driver May Freeze Before Arrival.”
The mechanics had gone one step further.
They mounted a small brass plaque on the shop wall.
The Eddie Memorial Winter Route
“Completed in only 90 minutes.
No coffee breaks.
One frozen employee.
Zero damaged loaders.”
Years later, every winter when a rookie complained about walking to the gate in the cold, some old-timer would grin and say:
“You think you’ve got it bad? Let me tell you about Eddie…”
By the end of the story, the rookie was usually laughing so hard he forgot how cold he was.
And somewhere in an old maintenance file, there’s probably still a work order that simply reads:
Complaint: Operator frozen solid.
Cause: Canadian winter.
Corrective Action: Wait until July.