Why Does American Airlines Paint its Tails Gray?

The question
A friend and fellow aviation geek recently asked me why American Airlines paints the tails of its aircraft gray.  "I understand why panels constructed of composite materials would need to be painted, but I can't imagine that's why, for example, the MD80 tails are painted gray.  So the question is...why does AA paint its tails gray?  Thanks."

The answer:
The history on this is a bit foggy, but here's the best I can piece together in a short time.  The tails of all jets at American Airlines were, once upon a time, polished.  As the most common member of the American Airlines fleet, you have most likely seen the polished skin of an MD80 as it taxied or flew by.  You probably had your hands over your ears at the time as the MD80 isn't exactly the quietest member of the AA fleet.  Maybe you noticed, maybe you didn't, but the tail section and certain other parts of American's jets are currently painted gray.  There was a time, however, that even the tail sections of American's jets were a combination of paint and polish.  Access panels, trim tabs and fairings were painted gray and other sections of the tail were polished in the same manner as the fuselage.

American Airlines Airbus A300 in the New Mexico desert

Some fleet types at American have large composite sections that require painting.  For instance, the nose section of American's now retired Airbus A300 fleet was composite and required a layer of paint.  I'm not referring to the nose cone which is always painted, but the section over the cockpit windows.

In the end, the decision to paint the metal on the tail was designed to protect the surfaces, to provide a fleet-wide common livery and to reduce the cluttered look that resulted from painting some, but not all of the tail.

Here's an example of the change.  The picture below shows ship 223 (N223AA) in 1989 with a polished tail.

The picture below shows the same aircraft with a painted tail in August of 2009, after I delivered it to its final resting place in the desert outside Roswell, New Mexico.

I've shared the link before, but in case you haven't seen it, here is a video I made after the last flight of N223AA.

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An Insider’s View of the AMR Bankruptcy

Working for a bankrupt airline is not where I thought I would be 12 years ago when I took this job.  I came to a crossroad in 1999, standing in my living room staring at an answering machine with two blinking messages.  One from American Airlines and the other from cross town rival Southwest.  These were my top two choices.  Dream jobs.  Winning the lottery wouldn’t have seemed any more of a distant possibility.  I was honestly amazed and bewildered by the decision I was about to make.

In the end I took the job at American with high hopes of a quick upgrade to Captain and dreams of retiring as a senior B777 Captain.  At the time I was hired, my retirement seniority number was projected to be a two digit number, pretty amazing stuff at a major airline with over 10,000 pilots.

Twelve years later things haven’t worked out exactly as planned.  Various circumstances with which I will not expand upon have resulted in one basic truth.  12 years ago I was a junior First Officer on the MD80 and today I find myself in the exact same position.  12 years ago I was all full of hope, excited about the future, proud to wear the uniform.  Today I wonder if I will have a job next month.  I wonder if I will have to sell my house.  I’m thankful that I don’t have a car payment and I’m thankful that I have money in savings, although not enough, for my daughter’s college education.  The future is anything but secure.

Let’s take just a moment to recognize the elephant in the room.  New reports abound with stories blaming the employees of American Airlines for the demise of a once great airline.  Specifically to blame are the pilots.  After all, they are the highest paid labor group on the property.  No doubt you have read about the pilots refusing to accept a contract offer from management that would have guaranteed pay raises and promised growth and prosperity for the airline.  The airline said it, so it must be true.  Hogwash.

Has everyone forgotten 2003?  Ok, ok, unless you worked for the airline or were directly impacted you probably didn’t pay much attention then much less remember the details now.  In 2003 the employees of American Airlines came to the company’s rescue and voluntarily accepted huge pay cuts and reductions in benefits.  The often quoted mantra from company back then was “Pull together, win together.” 

All told, the labor concessions at American Airlines totaled over $1.8 billion.  The pilots alone agreed to cuts that, in management’s estimate, equaled roughly $660 million in annual savings for the company.  Did you catch the word “annual” in that sentence?  The pilot’s union claimed a much larger number and the truth most likely lies somewhere in between.  Pull together, win together?  These savings were in jeopardy of falling apart after retention bonuses and pension protection for executives were revealed on the last day most employees were voting on the cuts, but the labor force at American took the high road and saved the company from bankruptcy. 

The improvements gained by American Airlines in 2003 gave the company an enormous cost advantage over its rivals.  But instead of using this new found leverage to compete soundly with its competitors, American Airlines shrunk.  In 2003 when the new contracts were inked, American Airlines employed over 13,500 pilots.  Today they employ fewer than 8,000.  They sold airplanes, cut routes and unveiled a corporate pay and bonus structure that rewarded top executives with multi-million dollar enhancements based on stock price as compared with its rivals.  Of course, you would think as poorly as the airline has performed, that bonuses would not be paid…but you would be wrong.  Last year, American ranked last when compared with its competitors, but the bonuses still flowed by the millions.

Back to the contract “turned down” by the pilots last month.  First, the by-laws at the Allied Pilots Association require any Tentative Agreement (T/A) to be in contractual language before it can be voted upon.  Management knows this and the agreement tendered by American was basically a bullet point summary.  Second, any agreement deemed acceptable by the APA negotiating committee must be studied for seven days before the agreement can be offered to the pilot group to be voted upon.  Third, and quite telling, is the fact that management inserted hot button items into the agreement that they knew full well would result in it being voted down.

Specifically, I’m referring to domestic code-share.  American Airlines has an agreement with its pilots that reads as follows: 

“All flying performed by the Company, a subsidiary, or affiliate directly or indirectly controlled by the Company, or successor in interest, or flying performed on behalf of the Company as a result of any agreement to which the Company is a party or becomes a party, shall be performed by pilots named on the active American Airlines Pilots Seniority List.”

This agreement, commonly referred to as a scope clause, prohibits the airline’s use of pilots from another carrier.  It’s all about job protection.

Over the past 25 years, the pilots of American Airlines have allowed exceptions to this agreement to allow feed operations in domestic markets by its regional partners (mainly American Eagle) and with its international partner airlines (there are many) in overseas markets not served by American Airlines.

However, over the last 10 years alone, American Airlines has shrunk by almost 30% while its domestic code-share partner American Eagle has grown by the same amount.  American Airlines now wants its pilots to allow the airline to sell tickets out of New York, Boston and Washington DC on other airlines, reducing or eliminating the need for American Airlines pilots in these markets.  All markets served by American Airlines.  All markets where the airline operates crew bases and its pilots and flight attendants call home. 

American Airlines never expected their offer to the pilots to be accepted.  It was part of a plan that was set in motion long before the company filed for bankruptcy on November 29^th.  Look at what happened on day one of the AMR bankruptcy.  President and CEO Gerard Arpey announced his new job at the helm of investment firm Emerald Creek Group, founded by former Continental CEO Larry Kellner.  Several new websites were launched.  Hundreds of pages of documents were filed.  So on and so forth.  A plan was made public that had been set in motion months before.  The agreement pushed across the table to the pilots was all part of that plan.

It’s all water under the bridge at this point.  The truth is that the employees at American Airlines are under fire. They are outnumbered and low on ammunition with no backup in sight.  Need someone to blame?  Point your finger somewhere else.

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In Their Own Words

Once you get hooked on the airline business, it's worse than dope.
- Ed Acker, PAA CEO while Chairman of Air Florida

 

 

 

 

 

These days no one can make money on the goddamn airline business. The economics represent sheer hell.
- C. R. Smith, Founder & President of American Airlines.

 

 

  

 

 

 

 A recession is when you have to tighten your belt; depression is when you have no belt to tighten. When you've lost your trousers - you're in the airline business.
- Sir Adam Thomson Founder British Caledonian Airways

 

 

 

 

 

 

If the pilots were in charge, Columbus would still be in port. They believe the assertion that the world is flat.
- Robert L. Crandall while CEO American Airlines

 

 

 

 

 

 

 If the Wright brother were alive today Wilbur would have to fire Orville to reduce costs.
- Herb Kelleher, Southwest Airlines, ' USA Today June 8 1994

 

 

 

 

 

 

If we went into the funeral business, people would stop dying.
- Martin R. Shugrue, Vice-chairman Pan Am.

 

The greatest sin of airline management of the last 22 years is to say, "It's all labor's fault."
- Donald Carty, Chairman and CEO American Airlines 2002.

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are only two reasons to sit in the back row of an airplane:
   Either you have diarrhea, or you're anxious to meet people who do..
- Henry Kissinger

 

 

 

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A Brief History of the DC-9/MD80 Series Aircraft

The DC-9:

• July 1921:  The Douglas Aircraft Company was founded by Donald Wills Douglas, Sr. in Santa Monica, California.  He served as President from 1921 to 1957, Chairman of the Board from 1957 to 1967 and Honorary Chairman of the Board from 1967 to 1981.
• July 1939:  The McDonnell Aircraft Corporation was founded by James Smith McDonnell and operated next to Lambert Field in St. Louis, Missouri.  He served as President of McDonnell from 1939 to 1962, President and CEO from 1962 to 1967.  At McDonnell Douglas he served as Chairman of the board and CEO from 1967 to 1972 and Chairman of the Board from 1972 to 1980.
• The two companies did not merge until April of 1967.
• April 8, 1963:  The Douglas DC-9 was launched with no orders on the books.

• April 25, 1963:  Delta Air Lines placed the first DC-9 order for 15 aircraft with options for an additional 15.
• February 25, 1965:  First flight of the DC-9-10 twinjet airliner.
• November 23, 1965: FAA certification granted for the DC-9-10.
• December 8, 1965:  The DC-9-10 enters service with Delta Air Lines.

• August 1, 1966:  First flight of the DC-9-30.
• December 1966:  DC-9-20 announced.  The DC-9 series 20, although numbered second in the sequence of models, was actually the fourth member of the family.
• February 1, 1967:  DC-9-30 enters service with Eastern Airlines.

• April 28, 1967:  The McDonnell and Douglas companies merge to form the McDonnell Douglas Corporation with headquarters in St. Louis, Missouri.
• November 28, 1967:  First flight of the DC-9-40.
• March 12, 1968:  DC-9-40 enters service with SAS.

• September 18, 1968:  First flight of the DC-9-20.
• December 1968:  First DC-9-20 delivered to SAS.
• Mid 1973:  DC-9-50 announced.
• December 17, 1974:  First flight of the DC-9-50.
• August 1975:  DC-9-50 enters service with swissair.

• October 1982:  Final DC-9 delivered.

• Total Aircraft built:

o   DC-9-10:  137

o   DC-9-20:  10

o   DC-9-30:  662

o   DC-9-40:  71

o   DC-9-50:  96

·         Douglas and McDonnell Douglas produced 976 DC-9s from 1965 to 1982.

The MD-80:

  

• October 1977:  The DC-9-80 was launched.  The aircraft was initially known as the DC-9-55 and later as the DC-9-80…the Super 80.
• October 24, 1978:  President Carter signed the Airline Deregulation Act.  The act became Public Law 95-504.
• October 18, 1979:  First flight of the DC-9-80.
• May 2, 1980:  During certification testing, the first DC-9-80 built (N980DC) breaks apart upon landing on runway 22 at Edwards Air Force Base.  The aircraft was on a test flight to determine the horizontal distance required to land and bring the A/C to a complete stop as required by 14 CFR 25.125.  NTSB Report #:  NTSB-AAR-82-2 dated 2/9/1982.

• August 1980:  The DC-9-80 was certified by the FAA.
• September 13, 1980:  swissair took delivery of the first DC-9-80.
• October 1980:  DC-9-80 enters service with swissair.
• January 8, 1981:  First flight of the DC-9-82.
• August 1981:  The first DC-9-82 enters service with Republic Airlines.

• November 1982:  A new designation system for McDonnell Douglas commercial aircraft combines the “M” of McDonnell and the “D” of Douglas.  The first aircraft to use the new designation was the DC-9-80 which became known as the MD-80.
• April 18, 1983:  TWA took delivery of its first MD-80, an MD82.
• May 12, 1983:  American Airlines’ first MD-82 delivered…N203AA.

• February 29, 1984:  American Airlines places the largest single aircraft purchase order in U.S. aviation history at the time when it ordered 67 MD-82s with options for 100 more.
• December 17, 1984:  First flight of the MD-83.
• February 1985:  The first MD-83 enters service with Alaska Airlines.
• December 4, 1986:  First flight of the MD-87.
• June 3, 1987:  American Airlines’ first MD-83 delivered…N562AA.
• November 1987:  The first MD-87 enters service with FinnAir.
• August 15, 1987:  First flight of the MD-88.
• January 1988:  The first MD-88 enters service with Delta Air Lines.
• November 14, 1989:  MD-90 program launched when Delta Air Lines orders 50 MD-90s with options for 110 more.
• February 22, 1993:  First flight of the MD-90.
• February 1995:  First MD-90 delivered to Delta Air Lines
• October 1995: The MD-95 program is launched with it’s first order.  The aircraft is later renamed the B717 after the Boeing merger in 1997.
• August 1, 1997:  McDonnell Douglas and Boeing merge.

• December 21, 1999:  TWA takes delivery of the last MD-80 to come off the Boeing MD-80 production line.

·         McDonnell Douglas and Boeing delivered 1,194 MD-80s from 1980 to 1999.

·         At one time, American Airlines owned 325 MD-80 series aircraft.  Although they are currently retiring the MD-82/83 at the rate of 2 per month, American is still the largest DC-9 / MD-80 operator in the world.

N237AA, an MD-82, in the Roswell, New Mexico graveyard

American Airlines MD82s in the Roswell, New Mexico graveyard

There were a total of 2,442 DC-9, MD-80 and B717 series aircraft produced…611 more than the Boeing 727 series aircraft!

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An Airline Pilot Checkride

I crawled into the cockpit, ducked my head to avoid scraping my bald head on the minefield that is the overhead panel and set my kitbag in the space designed for it next to my seat.  As I sunk into my sheep-skin covered seat and began building my “nest”, I looked up at the instrument panel and couldn’t help noticing how everything looked, felt and smelled normal.  Just another flight.  We were on the ground in Memphis, Tennessee and the terminal was clearly in view out the window.  The large, back-lit sign on the jetbridge read C12…news to me since I had entered the cockpit by way of the Flight Training Center, not the airport terminal.

Flight 611 from Memphis to Dallas was actually going to take place in a simulator on day four of my recurrent training assignment.  I return to the Flight Academy once every nine months to get one of two different training routines.  Nine months ago, while completing a three day training event, I got one full day in the classroom followed by two days in the sim.  The first, a day of training with one of our instructors.  The second, a checkride during which a check-airman thoroughly probed my abilities as an aviator. 

Nine months ago, I was tested on my ability to fly every type of approach I’m qualified to perform and refreshed my skills at handling a number of emergencies as well.  Time and distance were not factors as the instructor could place me outside the outer marker for the ILS approach to runway 28 in Chicago and five minutes later set me up to intercept the final approach course for an RNAV approach in Dallas.  The seasons could be changed faster than anything in real life allowing us to fly a heavy weight departure out of Denver at 100 degrees Fahrenheit followed by an icy winter approach and landing in New York a few minutes later. 

This month’s training event took one day longer than the routine I completed nine months ago, adding a day of classroom study to the schedule.  This time around the classes were designed to refresh my memory of aircraft systems, flight manuals, regulations, safety, security and human factors.  Day three took place in the simulator and looked remarkably similar to my first day in the sim 9 months ago with a thorough review of normal and abnormal procedures.

Today, day four of my current training cycle, was different than anything I did nine months ago.  Flight 611 was going to take place in real time.  Commonly referred to as a LOFT, or Line Oriented Flight Training, the purpose of today’s flight was to observe a real flight, in real time, with no outside help or influence not normally available to the flight crew.  Something was going to go wrong.  I didn’t know what and I didn’t know when, but I knew it was coming.  I would have to handle the situation as I would in real life and I would be graded on my performance and held responsible for the outcome. 

As I got comfortable, the check-airman sitting behind me took on the role the world outside the cockpit.  He would be the gate agent, flight attendant, push crew, ramp controller, ground, tower, departure and en-route controller and anyone else we needed to be in contact with during our flight.  What he would not be was an instructor.  During a normal training exercise in the simulator, it isn’t at all uncommon for the instructor to hit pause and carry on a conversation with the pilots as the aircraft is suspended in a moment of time.  Finish teaching, hit play, and let things start where they left off.  There would be none of that today.

The normal pressures of an every-day flight started about 5 minutes in as the instructor…excuse me…as the gate agent began pushing for an on-time departure that had been intentionally and unreasonably set by the instructor.  This really was going to feel real.  The Captain and I had to make a conscious effort to slow things down and do things right the first time.  You rarely get an opportunity for a do-over in aviation.

With the cockpit prepped and ready for departure and the simulator door closed behind us, I heard a high pitched beep from outside the sim warning anyone within a few hundred feet that the simulator’s draw-bridge style walkway was about to raise.  Shortly thereafter I felt the sim begin to move as the motion system was engaged.  From here on, everything would look and feel real.

The interphone crackled as the Crew Chief advised the Captain that the walk around and FOD check (Foreign Object Debris) was complete and gave him clearance to release brakes and call for push-back.  “Memphis Ground, American 611, C12, Push-back.” 

We pushed back from the gate, started both engines and began our taxi to runway 18C with visibility reported at 2400 RVR (Runway Visual Range).  Honestly, I was a little surprised it wasn’t lower.  Anything less than 1800 RVR and we would need a takeoff alternate, since we would need at least that much to return to Memphis in the event of an engine failure.  Instructors like to set the visibility below single engine minimums to see if you will pick up on the fact that you are legally required to have a take-off alternate.  It's a common gotcha, but as I said, would not be a factor today.

As we approached runway 18C, the tower controller cleared us to “Line up and wait” but I was not ready for takeoff.  Given the visibility, I didn’t want to be “heads down” while taxiing around a relatively unfamiliar airport and had gotten behind on the Taxi and Before Takeoff checklists.  I still needed to compare our final closeout weight and balance information against the planned numbers and had a few checklist items to complete before we would be ready to depart.  Once I was finished, I advised the tower that we were ready and we promptly received clearance for takeoff.  “Fly runway heading, Runway 18C…cleared for takeoff.”

The Captain had elected to fly the leg, which most likely meant I would be running the checklists and solving problems as they arose.  We accelerated down the runway, rotated and climbed into the cloud filled night sky.  We were almost instantly inside the clouds with two white beams of light emanating from each wing tip illuminating the dense cloud cover ahead.

The departure controller turned us to the west, and as we climbed through 10,000 feet, handed us off to Memphis Center.  Soon thereafter we were cleared on course direct to the Little Rock VOR where we would pick up the arrival into Dallas. 

As I mentioned before, one thing that set this flight off as different from most others was that I knew something bad was coming.  Again, I didn’t know what or when, but I knew it was coming.  I scanned the engine instruments and the overhead panel with much more frequency than normal in hopes of catching some sign of what was to come.  Nothing seemed out of place.  Everything was working perfectly.

We leveled off at FL 320 (32,000 ft.) and completed the Cruise checklist, sent a position report to our company dispatcher (who was still seated 2 feet behind me) and started planning our descent and arrival into Dallas.  The weather in Dallas was worse than it was in Memphis with RVR 800/600/400 (touchdown, mid, rollout) reported on runway 17C.  Visibility this low would necessitate a CAT III approach and an autopilot flown landing known as an autoland.

The MD80, as old as it is, does a respectable job landing itself on the centerline and coming to a complete stop without any assistance from the pilot except the manual inputs it took to set up the procedure.  300 – 200 – 100 – the jet announces 50 feet as the throttles retard on their own and the control yoke pulls back to raise the nose.  40 – 30 – 20 – 10 – and the jet settles onto the runway.  The landing isn’t always the type that encourages the pilot to stand in the doorway and take bows, but all things considered, especially the jet’s 1960’s heritage, it’s impressive to watch.

Still level at FL 320, I had just requested an ATIS (Automatic Terminal Information System) for Dallas and sent a request for gate arrival and connecting gate information when a yellow “CAUTION” light illuminated on the glare shield.  “Here we go” I thought.  I looked up to see the “L CSD OIL PRESS LOW” light illuminated on the anunciator panel.  No other light accompanied this lone warning light.  I was surprised by that and expected the left generator to fail at any moment.  At the Captain’s command, I retrieved my QRH (Quick Reference Handbook) and found the appropriate checklist.  About two minutes later as I was working my way through the checklist, the “CAUTION” light again caught my attention.  I looked up and noticed that the “L GEN OFF” light had also illuminated. 

With the Captain’s consent, I reached for the APU start switch and hoped that the good ole Auxiliary Power Unit would spool up in this cold thin air.  I was a little surprised to see it come to life and even more surprised to see a blue power available light shortly thereafter.  This was shaping up to be much easier than I expected.

A little explanation may be in order here…Each engine-driven generator is driven through a constant-speed drive known as a CSD.  The CSD converts the variable speed output of the engine driven generator to a constant speed.  The output of the generator is variable because it is connected to the engine and changes speed as the speed of the engine is adjusted by the pilot.  The CSD is lubricated by oil and is monitored by a fault protection system in each generator control circuit that automatically removes the generator from its bus and de-energize the generator in the event of certain malfunctions.

We continued with the checklist and disconnected the CSD to prevent any damage to the engine or generator.

Checklist complete. 

The question at this point, and another gotcha, was the legality of flying a CAT III approach and an autoland with a compromised electrical system.  I looked up a chart in the Aircraft Flight Manual that listed all equipment required to fly the approach.  Under electrical system, the chart simply read “Normal**” Hmm…what do the two stars mean?  At the bottom of the page in small print it read ”**APU may be used in lieu of one engine generator.”  So in our case, a disconnected CSD and an inoperative engine driven generator was normal as long as the APU generator was operating normally.

The rest was simple and quite routine.  I checked and rechecked the book a few times just to make sure I was reading it correctly since illegally flying a CAT III approach would most definitely end the ride with a pink slip, but we were in fact legal.

After we landed, we were given taxi instructions to the terminal where we shut down and completed the Parking checklist.  “Nice job gentlemen, ride’s over.”  Those were nice words to hear…except it wasn’t really over.

The LOFT part of the checkride is what we call a “jeopardy” ride.  Although it rarely happens, you can fail the ride.  If you don’t pass, you come back for more training and do it all over again on another day.  The rest of the ride would be “train to proficiency.”  During a “train to proficiency” event, you are permitted to re-attempt a maneuver if you screw it up the first time.  The only limiting factor is that there are a number of items that must be demonstrated and if you run out of time because you did everything twice, then you won’t be able to finish in the allotted time and another day of training would be in order. 

...if you don't think you have time to do it right the first time, what makes you think you have time to do it twice?

After a short break in the “iron kitchen” we climbed back into the simulator and took a beating from the check-airman.  Wind shear on takeoff…twice.  Wind shear during the landing phase…twice.  Twice, not because we didn’t do it right the first time, but because the instructor wanted us to see the outcome of using different techniques for escape.  High and low speed aborts…engine failures at critical speeds…several engine fires...a cargo fire…several approaches…unusual attitude recovery...RNAV procedures and some raw data time in the pattern. 

Raw data?  That means we flew around in the clouds with no autopilot and no flight director.  Sounds simple enough, but if you rely too much on the autopilot as many do, it can be surprisingly difficult.  We flew around for a while getting climbs, descents and turns then flew a raw data ILS to minimums with a direct crosswind at 18 knots gusting to 23.  It wasn’t the prettiest approach I’d ever flown, but I was pleased to have kept everything within the required standards.

Day four of my training consisted of a two hour oral exam and pre-flight brief followed by four hours in the simulator.  I walked away feeling refreshed and confident in my skills.  There’s nothing quite like the feeling a pilot has while walking away from the school house after a successful checkride.  Back to guilt free TV, good books and long walks on layovers. 

I’ll be back for more in another nine months.

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Thunderstorms are Beautiful - From a Distance

Every year I receive a reminder from my employer that thunderstorm season is on its way.  Frankly, I don't need to be reminded, as thunderstorms are generally hard to miss, but someone making a lot more money than me thinks I need to be reminded.  Spring brings with it an increase in turbulence related injuries for our cabin crews, concerns over lightning strikes for our ground workers and a plethora of added concerns for our pilots and dispatchers...but it's high altitude transitions across lines of thunderstorms like the one described below that I dread the most.


It was the first week in April this year before my first encounter with a line of severe thunderstorms.  The day started in Dallas with an early morning flight to Las Vegas where I was scheduled to sit for about an hour then turn around and fly back to where I had started.  The weather was absolutely gorgeous in both cities, although the Dallas area was forecasting a possibility of storms in the afternoon...not particularly unusual for a Spring day in Texas.  The flight to Las Vegas was uneventful with clear skies and a smooth ride all the way to touchdown.

The flight back to Dallas was equally uneventful until the descent, where we encountered a small, but building line of storms.  I wouldn't even classify this line of rain showers as a thunderstorm at this point, just rain clouds with some vertical development.  Ft. Worth Center, the Air Traffic Control facility handling our flight, allowed us to delay our descent which allowed us to fly over the top of the relatively short storm.  We were forced to make a few small deviations late in the descent but never encountered any turbulence. 

After a short time on the ground in Dallas, we continued on to Birmingham, Alabama for a long layover in preparation for an afternoon flight back to Dallas the next day.  Over night, the small area of rain showers that we easily topped on our way into Dallas the day before had grown quite mature, stretching from Louisiana to Pennsylvania, and was literally on our doorstep by the time we were scheduled to depart.  The picture below shows what the storm looked like when we left Birmingham.  The green line depicts our track through the weather. 

The next picture is a closer look at our track.  Take a look and see if you think you would have taken the same path before you continue reading.

We took off from Birmingham, headed west and were granted an unrestricted climb to a requested cruise altitude of 34,000 feet.  We experience light to moderate turbulence during the first few minutes of our climb and asked the Flight Attendants to remain seated until we were above the rough air.  The departure controller instructed us to climb on a westerly heading directly toward the approaching weather, but after a quick glance at the weather radar we could see that this was not going to work.

Atlanta Center was working several flights through the area that were having some success with a path through a small break in the storm just to the west of Birmingham.  If you look at the map above, you can probably see the hole he wanted us to fly through.  The problem was that the aircraft making their way through this hole were already at their cruise altitude and above much of the weather you see on the map.  We, on the other hand, would not be able to fly through the same hole without first making it to 34,000.

As we climbed, it quickly became clear that we needed another plan, so we requested a left turn to parallel the storm until we had gained enough altitude to make our way through another hole.  As we reached our planned cruise altitude of 34,000 feet, a break in the storm became apparent and we made our move.  We widened out to the left initially then made a gradual turn to the west and picked our way through the hole. 

Hole? You say you don't see a hole? As bad as it looks in the pictures above, we were able to find a safe path around the worst of the storm and managed a pretty smooth ride.  One thing you must remember is that the weather maps you see online or on the evening news are top-down views of the storms and do not depict the height of a thunderstorm.  Air Traffic Controllers see this same 2D view of weather and will often warn pilots that they are about to fly through heavy rain showers that they are actually thousands of feet above.  A thunderstorm is a three dimensional beast and the 2D nature of most maps just doesn't paint the full picture.

I took the picture below just after we made our turn to the west.  On the right side of the screen you see "WX+T" over "+0.5".  This indicates that my NAV screen was set to display weather radar and turbulence information and that the radar beam was directed .5 degrees nose up...basically level.

It's at about this point that I usually get a tingling sensation in my toes that's my body's way of telling me to pay attention. I had already checked the aircraft performance charts and found that we were capable of climbing another 2,000 feet if needed...but I had no intention of climbing.  That extra 2,000 feet was the extra performance that I needed to feel comfortable as we crossed the storm ahead.  The thunderstorms were "embedded" which meant the storm cells you see on the radar screen above were hidden from view by cloud cover.  As we entered the clouds, we would have to engage the wing and engine anti-ice systems to keep the engines, wings and tail clear of ice.

The anti-ice systems on most jet aircraft use air from the engines to heat the leading edges of the engines, wing and tail and the air used to keep these areas clear of ice is a direct draw on the engine.  Any power draw on the engine will affect the aircraft's ability to maintain altitude.  As an example, an MD80 that weighs 133,700 pounds is capable of maintaining 34,000 feet with the engine and wing anti-ice systems turned off.  With those systems turned on, the aircraft would have to weigh less than 130,300 pounds to maintain the same altitude...a 3,400 pound reduction in the lift capability of the aircraft.  For these reasons, I wanted to stay at 34,000.

One nice thing about the average line of thunderstorms is that they're usually only about 10 to 20 miles wide.  So that uncomfortable feeling I get from flying around a thunderstorm so close to the maximum capability of the aircraft only lasts for a few minutes...then it's gone.  It also brings to mind an old saying.  "There are old pilots and there are bold pilots, but there are no old, bold pilots."  I'm not ashamed of the uncomfortable feeling I get when operating near the edge of the envelope.  I intend to be an old pilot...not a bold one.

We encountered light to moderate turbulence and at one point as we flew through a significant downdraft, the auto throttles advanced the engines to full power in an attempt to maintain the speed I had selected on the flight guidance panel.  Since we had elected to stay at a lower altitude, there was ample power to maintain our speed and altitude.  With the engines sitting steady at max cruise power, I was pleased with the decision not to climb to a higher altitude.

The ride through weather such as this always seems to be the worst just before you break out the back side of the storm and into clear air.  As we broke out into blue sky with my concern and tingly toes in the rear view mirror, I took a moment to look back and appreciate the storm we would leave behind.  Thunderstorms are beautiful...from a distance.

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Grounded Jets at American and Southwest - History Worth Remembering

View of the hole taken from the cabin

I’ve been sitting around this morning perusing stories about Southwest Airlines and their third explosive depressurization in as many years.  This all got me thinking about the FAA’s $7.2 million dollar fine against Southwest in 2008 followed quickly by a $24.2 million dollar fine against cross town rival American Airlines for a separate but related offense.  This past Friday, a 15 year old Southwest Boeing 737-300 lost pressurization while cruising at 36,000 feet after developing a large hole in the fuselage. 

The picture below illustrates how bad things could have been.  On April 28, 1988 a huge section of metal peeled away from the fuselage of another Boeing 737,  Aloha flight 243, exposing passengers to the elements as if the aircraft had been equipped with a convertible top.  They lost a crew member on that flight when Flight Attendant C.B. Lansing was sucked from the aircraft and fell to her death.  In addition to FA Lansing’s death, another 65 passengers and crew were injured. 

Aloha 243. April 28, 1988

As a result of the Aloha accident, the FAA ordered mandatory inspections of all Boeing 737 series aircraft.  Almost twenty years later in March of 2007, Southwest Airlines representatives notified the FAA that it had inadvertently missed these inspections on some of its aircraft. Some were nine months overdue.  It was revealed during the investigation that Southwest flew 46 Boeing 737s on 59,791 flights without the required maintenance inspections.


The aircraft in question were supposed to be grounded immediately, but the Southwest planes were not. For another nine days, the jets in question made more than 1,400 additional flights.  The airline was initially fined $10.2 million in March of 2008 for their lapse in procedures.  Southwest appealed the fine and eventually settled the case after agreeing to pay $7.5 million.  The largest fine ever levied against an airline.  The record wouldn't last.

As the record setting fine at Southwest rippled through the airline industry, it became apparent that many of the issues with Southwest's planes held true for other types of aircraft as well.  After the FAA found that Southwest had failed to comply with inspections of its 737s, the agency announced that it would conduct unscheduled inspections of aircraft owned by other airlines including American Airlines. As a result, many airlines began canceling flights in order to check or double-check their planes and maintenance records.

It was at this point that maintenance repair discrepancies surfaced at American Airlines and its fleet of MD80s.  At issue with the MD80 was the wiring that electrifies the planes' auxiliary hydraulic system.  But the problem wasn't with the functionality of the wiring. It was determined years ago that the wiring harness for the auxiliary hydraulic pump on the MD80 series aircraft was susceptible to rubbing and chafing as a result of its proximity to the landing gear doors.  



MD80 Auxiliary Hydraulic Pump - The wire bundle from center screen to right (white).  Closed gear door in the foreground.



The FAA, aircraft manufacturers and airlines became very concerned about wire bundles and the possibility of electrical sparks after the loss of TWA 800 in 1996 off Long Island which resulted in the deaths of all 230 passengers.  But the TWA 800 accident involved a Boeing aircraft, not McDonnell Douglas, the maker of the MD80, and the explosion on TWA 800 initiated inside a fuel tank after fuel vapors were ignited by an electrical short circuit.  The wire bundle in question on the MD80 is not in or even near the fuel tank.

The FAA issued an Airworthiness Directive (AD), an order to complete an inspection or work on an aircraft.  It should be noted that, as the largest operator of MD80s in the world, American Airlines was often called upon by the FAA to help write such directives and they did in fact write the initial version of this AD.  The initial version called for a protective sheath to be installed around the auxiliary hydraulic wire bundle and called for the sheath to be held in place by a series of ties that were to be placed one inch apart for the entire length of the wire bundle(This can all be seen in the picture above).  While American’s initial version of the procedure called for the ties to be one inch apart, it also allowed for slight variations of up to 1/8^th of an inch.  The final FAA version came in the form of a 38-page handbook and omitted the 1/8^th inch allowance.  American Airlines admitted that its engineers may have had some trouble deciphering the procedure.   





What occurred behind closed doors between American and the FAA at this point is unclear.  But it appears that an agreement could not be reached on a number of issues.  Were the aircraft in compliance?  If they were not, how much time, if any, would the airline have to correct the issue?  In the case against Southwest, the FAA allowed the airline to continue flying their jets while the required inspections were completed.  It was during this time that another 1400 flights took place with uninspected aircraft.

It is a misconception that the FAA grounded American’s MD80s…that decision was made in house.  But the massive and recent fine against Southwest was weighing heavily on the decision makers at American.  Grounding the fleet probably resulted in a smaller fine, but when you consider the lost revenue and massive inconveniences to the flying public, an argument could be made that it was a “cut your nose off to spite your face” move. 

^th of an inch.  The airline has long disputed the agency’s findings, claiming that the violations were minor and never endangered passengers.  The FAA fined American Airlines $24.2 million for failing to properly follow the agency's Airworthiness Directive.  The fine reflected a more aggressive stance by the F.A.A., which has been criticized for being lax on some maintenance issues, particularly surrounding American Airlines and in the case involving Southwest.

The transportation secretary, Ray LaHood, said in a statement, “We expect operators to perform inspections and conduct regular and required maintenance.” 

The previous highest fine was set at $9.5 million in 1987 against Eastern Airlines. But the company paid only about $1 million before going out of business.

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CAL3407, Commuting Pilots and a Personal Confession

Aviation in itself is not inherently dangerous.  But to an even greater degree than the sea, it is terribly unforgiving of any carelessness, incapacity or neglect.

— Captain A. G. Lamplugh

A chain of events, often called an error chain, refers to the concept that a number of contributing factors, rather than one single event, typically lead to an accident.  Breaking just one link in the chain could yield vastly different results, which is exactly why pilots recognize the importance of following the rules, regulations and procedures that govern how they operate their aircraft.  However, it's often overlooked that the chain of events begins long before a pilot steps into the cockpit. 

Continental Express Dash 8 Q400

The February 2009 crash of Newark to Buffalo bound Continental 3407 (operated by Colgan Air) is a good example   The accident has resurfaced in the news lately as the final  results of the crash investigation recently went public and new FAA regulations designed to combat the root causes of the accident are soon to be enacted.  The NTSB investigation of this accident identified a series of facts, events and actions by the crew and the airline that lead to the accident.  All links in the chain.  The flight crew failed to monitor airspeed.  Both pilots failed to adhere to sterile cockpit procedures.  The Captain had no hands-on simulator training to teach stall recovery techniques and the first officer complained of being sick and spent the entire night before this fateful flight commuting to work and napping on the floor in crew ops.  Remove any of these from the equation, break the chain of events, and the end result might be quite different.  But the link in the chain I'm focusing on today started the night before the accident.  

The NTSB focused much of its attention on fatigue as a contributing factor to the crash. Records indicate that on the day of the accident, the captain logged into the company’s crew scheduling computer system at 3 am and 7:30 am, and that the first officer commuted to Newark on an overnight “red-eye” flight and sent and received text messages on the day of the accident.  Should they have been resting during this time?

The pilots reported for duty at 1:30 pm on the day of the accident and the schedule called for Flight 3407 to take off at 7:45 p.m. and arrive in Buffalo at 10:21 p.m.  While the flight was pushed from the gate at 7:45 p.m., the crew did not receive taxi instructions until 8:30 p.m. and the tower did not clear 3407 for takeoff at 9:18 p.m.  At the time of the crash, both pilots were operating on very little sleep and had been on duty for 8 hours and 47 minutes.  Not a particularly long duty day by any means, but both pilot's actions prior to sign-in, specifically the FO's commute, turned what should have been a normal day into a deadly one.

                                            There but for the grace of God, go I...

                                                                 ---John Bradford

Since I got my first commercial pilot job in 1992 until now, I’ve commuted six times for a total of 5 years, 9 months between my home in Texas to pilot bases in Corpus Christi, Atlanta, Miami and St. Louis.  Everyone who commutes does so for different reasons, but regardless of the circumstances, commuting is hard on everyone involved.  But while it comes at a cost, commuting also affords a significant up side as it allows pilots to live just about anywhere, regardless of where they work.  If you love Colorado, but you’re based in New York…great!  Have your house in the mountains if you want, because all you have to do is drive to the nearest airport and fly to work for free.  Pilots and Flight Attendants alike have what are known as reciprocal agreements with other airlines, so if your employer doesn’t fly from your city of choice to where you need to go, just hop on another airline…the ride is still free of charge.  Also, if the flight is full, there’s an extra seat or two in the cockpit specifically provided for the FAA to observe pilots at work, but if the seat is not in use by the FAA, it’s available as an extra seat for a pilot on a full flight.  Similar seats exist in the cabin for Flight Attendants.  

My longest stretch as a commuter took place over a 4 year period when I was based in St. Louis, Missouri and lived in Dallas, Texas.  After a particularly ugly merger just prior to an especially difficult time in history for the airline industry, I was forced out of my base in Texas and assigned a position in STL.  The airline was shrinking and furloughing pilots at an alarming rate and I was unsure whether my job would exist next month much less next year.  Pilots were engaged in what we commonly referred to as a “death march” in which we were repeatedly displaced from one base to another before being furloughed.  In my case, I first expected to be displaced to STL.  After a few months in STL, I expected to be displaced to New York, our junior base.  A few months later I fully expected to be furloughed from the company all together.  With deep roots in Texas, a nice home, a good school for the kids and a support structure if things got worse, I elected to commute.

For a typical three day trip, I usually flew a sequence that signed in around noon on the first day, which meant I could commute to work on the same day my trip was scheduled to start.  This kept me from having to travel on a day off, but it also meant that I was already well traveled and tired when I signed in for the first leg of my trip.  The first flight from Dallas to St. Louis left around 6am and I could put my name on the standby list using an online check-in system 4 hours before departure at 2am.  I did my best to get in bed early and get a good night’s sleep, but with young children in the house and a wife who likes late night TV, you can imagine how that went.  In spite of my efforts, I rarely made to bed before 10.

When traveling as a non-revenue passenger, the seats in the cabin are first come first served.  In other words, the first person on the standby list gets the first seat and if there isn't an open seat at departure time, you don't go.  There was always a lot of competition for seats, so it was important to get my name high on the list.  I would be at my computer with everything loaded just waiting to hit enter at exactly 2am.  I had my watch set EXACTLY to company time so I wouldn’t be more than a few seconds off.  I would hit enter at exactly 2am and hope for the best.  Usually, there would be at least 4 or 5 names on the standby list during the first 30 seconds we were allowed to sign up.  Timing was everything.  

After putting my name on the list, I would go back to sleep until I had to get up to start my commute.  So let me think out loud while I do the math…flight leaves at 6…be at the airport by 5…leave the house at 4…I’m a diva and I like to have 45 minutes to get ready, so…set the alarm for 3:15 and go back to sleep.  That’s right, I slept from 10pm to 2am then from about 2:15 until 3:15 if I was lucky…that’s not much rest to prepare for what could be a very long day, but it’s what I did almost every time I commuted to work.

Once at the airport, the stress of commuting was just beginning.  When I arrived at the gate, I would assess the competition.  The flights to STL were almost always full, so seats in the main cabin were scarce and difficult to get.  As I mentioned before, the seats in the cabin are first come first served, but the aforementioned cockpit jump seats are awarded in order of seniority.  So, I would find the other pilots (there were usually at least 3 of us at this point) and compare numbers to see who was going to get the cockpit seat and who would be crossing their fingers in hopes that some paying passenger forgot to set his alarm.

As a direct result of the commute, the first day of a trip was almost always the most difficult.  I remember telling myself if I could just get through this first day and get a good night’s sleep at the layover hotel, the rest of the trip would be easy.  I remember one trip in particular that I flew with some regularity.  I would start my day with the commute described above and a sign-in time in STL sometime around noon.  My first flight was from STL back to Dallas at around 1pm.  After a short break, the second leg was a flight from Dallas to Chicago with another short sit before the third and final leg to Seattle.  Day one was a 13 hour duty day that ended in Seattle at about 1am body time…and that’s only if everything went as planned.  Add bad weather, maintenance and equipment delays to the mix and things could get much worse. 

In hind sight, I’m not proud of days like that.  I think I owe the flying public and my fellow crew members more of myself.  I rationalized my actions by convincing myself it was all in the name of normalcy for my wife and kids.  It was a significant hardship, but the truth is, it was a choice.  Furthermore, the trip I described above wasn’t my worst, just an average commute.  Many were far worse and a few were a little better. 

Continental 3407 crashed at 10:47 p.m. Feb. 12 while on approach to the Buffalo, New York. The plane, flying in an ice storm, pitched up violently as it neared a stall, then rolled over and crashed.  There were many links in the chain that led to this accident, but according to the NTSB, one contributing factor was the First Officer’s commute.  FO Shaw had flown a "red-eye" flight to Newark before Flight 3407 and allegedly spent no time in bed the night before the accident.  She can be heard on the cockpit recordings complaining about fatigue, congestion from a cold and saying she should have called in sick.  One link in an intact chain of events.

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