NORDO - Out Of Radio Contact

NORDO is an aviation term referring to an aircraft that is unexpectedly out of radio contact...no radio.  As you might imagine, NORDO has taken on new meaning since the 9/11 terrorist attacks.   Not that it hasn't always been serious, but unusual or non existent radio contact was the first indication controllers working hijacked flights on 9/11 had that something wasn't right.  Few have forgotten that lesson.

A high profile NORDO event occurred in 2009 when Northwest Airlines Flight 188, an Airbus A320, went without radio contact for over 75 minutes.  To make matters worse, the pilots of this flight somehow managed to overfly their destination by 150 miles in spite of all the training, experience and technology available to them. In this case, it was a flight attendant calling the cockpit to find out why they hadn't started to descend who finally clued the cockpit into the fact that they had made a serious error. Both pilots not only lost their jobs, but we're eventually stripped of their pilots licenses by the United States Federal Aviation Administration.

   

The stakes are high in a business where errors in procedure and judgment can and do result in the loss of life.  It's important to learn from our mistakes; but unfortunately, since mistakes commonly result in punishment that could include time off from work, loss of pay and even suspension of revocation of a hard earned license, self-reporting would be rare without a program known as ASAP.

Pilots, dispatchers, mechanics and even flight attendants are invited to participate in a safety reporting program known as the Aviation Safety Action Program or ASAP.  The following is an excerpt from an FAA Advisory Circular published in 2002.  "The objective of ASAP is to encourage air carrier and repair station employees to voluntarily report safety information that may be critical to identifying potential precursors to accidents.  The Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) has determined that identifying these precursors is essential to further reducing the already low accident rate.  Under an ASAP, safety issues are resolved through corrective action rather than through punishment or discipline.  The ASAP provides for the collection, analysis, and retention of the safety data that is obtained."

The program provides a system for gathering useful data that will be analysed for trending safety issues in exchange for a promise that unintentional mistakes will not be prosecuted.  Air Traffic Controllers have a similar self-reporting system known as ATSAP that works in much the same way. 

I know all this ASAP business is a little dry, but it's important and I'll come back to it.

On a recent flight, I was at the controls while the captain worked the radios and ran checklists. We were on an Air Traffic Control vector to intercept the final approach course in visual flight conditions when the approach controller got busy handling a problem with another aircraft. The other aircraft was returning to the airport with some sort of mechanical problem and was going to land opposite direction from the normal flow of traffic.

I could see the other aircraft, a small single engine Cessna, on the TCAS screen and made a mental note of its position relative to ours. We were about the same distance from the airport as the Cessna, but we were traveling well over twice its speed and would easily beat the small plane to the airport.  We were landing on different, but closely aligned runways and I didn't expect a conflict.

Normally, an approach controller will tell a pilot to call the tower on a specific frequency.  Sometimes the frequency is left out of the instruction, but it's helpful information, especially at an airport with multiple tower frequencies.  "Flight 123, contact tower on frequency 126.55."

As we descended through about 1,500 feet on the approach, I overheard a radio transmission that caught my attention and I realized we had not yet been switched over to the tower frequency.  The captain hadn't picked up on this, so I reminded him that we were still talking to approach.  Normally, if I haven't been switched over to the tower before about 2,000 feet above touchdown, I assume that the controller has forgotten to switch us over and will either transmit a gentle reminder or switch over on my own if the frequency is too congested to get a word in.  In this case, there was far too much confusion and verbal congestion on the approach frequency to request the handoff, so the captain elected to switch over on his own.

By the time we first called the tower, we were descending through 1,000 feet above touchdown.  This is where things got confusing and where we, as the flight crew, made a mistake.

We printed a copy of the ATIS (Automatic Terminal Information Service) about 30 minutes before landing. The ATIS informed us that the tower frequency had changed and provided a new frequency to be used. We made note of the change, but in the heat of the moment, the captain glanced down at his chart and dialed the inactive tower frequency into the #1 Comm radio. He called repeatedly, but the tower was monitoring another frequency and never heard his transmissions. In desperation, he tried the ground control and clearance delivery frequencies listed on the chart but for reasons unknown did not get an answer on those frequencies either.

By this point, we were descending through 300 feet above touchdown without a landing clearance. I considered going around, but then I remembered the Cessna.  I glanced at the TCAS and noted that the Cessna was now about three miles out and still appeared to be landing opposite direction. A go-around would have put us nose to nose...most likely with no radio contact. I visually scanned the runway and the taxiways around the runway and determined that the area was clear of traffic.  I told the captain that I intended to land unless he instructed me to go-around.  But before he could respond I glanced at the tower and noticed the green light.

Oddly enough, I had attended the annual AirVenture fly-in aviation convention in Oshkosh, Wisconsin just weeks earlier. I walked through the FAA's exhibit while I was there and happened to pick up a sticker entitled "Air Traffic Control - Light Gun Signals."  I placed the sticker, with no intention of ever needing it, inside the front cover of my Jepps binder.  I remembered that the signal for "cleared to land" was a solid green light. To be honest, this was information that I hadn't reviewed in many years.  The tower controller was watching.  He knew we were out of radio contact.  And he was using a light gun to clear us to land.

I almost missed the signal. It was dim and difficult to see and certainly would not have caught my attention if I had not looked directly at the tower, but it was the clearance we needed. As we passed through 50 feet above touchdown I started to reduce thrust, pulled slightly on the yoke and set the aircraft softly onto the runway. It's funny how clear things seem in hindsight   It wasn't until after touchdown that I realized what we had done.

Ugh...that sinking feeling in the pit of your gut.  No one likes to make mistakes, but I think pilots as a group are harder on themselves than most.  I think its just part of being a professional...we demand the best of ourselves at all times.

I'm about to get back to that ASAP thing...

Realizing our mistake, I reminded the captain about the frequency change and he made contact with the tower. I appreciated the kind words and reassuring tone from the controller...and I got the impression we hadn't been the first to make that particular error.  "No harm no foul" he said.  We asked if the ground and clearance frequencies were monitored and he indicated that they were.  I'm not sure why we hadn't been able to make contact on the other two frequencies.

After we completed the parking checklist, I called the tower on my cell phone and spoke to the controller who had worked our flight. The guy was understanding and affirmed our decision not to go-around.  I think the idea of us going nose to nose with the Cessna while unable to communicate scared him at least as much as it scared me.  He made it clear that the light gun signal was a legal clearance to land.  No violation would be filed.

I feel I should add this note about the phone call.  While I've done it a number of times, I have been told by people on the inside that a phone call to the tower could potentially lead to negative results.  Sometimes, especially at large airports, the phone may be answered by a supervisor, not the controller who worked your flight.  It is possible that the supervisor might not agree with the controller's assessment, so you could be outing yourself with the phone call.  Be careful out there folks, there are ample opportunities to make your life more complicated than it needs to be.

Now back to ASAP...

The stated purpose of the ASAP program is to learn from the errors we will inevitably make, and to improve the already increasingly safe skies over the United States.

As unfortunate as it may be, the word from an air traffic controller or Federal Inspector can't always be taken at face value.  It may not be intentional, but for a number of reasons, the decision to file a violation against a crew may be out of the hands of a well intentioned controller like the one I described here.  I'm sure he had no intention of reporting the event, but there are internal and external reviews in place that could override that decision.

For that reason, even though I still believe we had a legal landing clearance, I elected to file an ASAP report.  Unfortunately for the pilots of Northwest flight 188, the ASAP report did not save them from an inevitable outcome.  Personally, I disagree with that decision, but their mistake was too great and too public to be overlooked.  Mine on the other hand was quietly accepted into the program.  The event has by now been "collected, analysed, and retained" and will be tracked for a possible trend.

Hopefully, I won't be the only person who learns from my mistake.

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Upside Down in an Airliner?

Even if you don't have a clear understanding of the instrumentation, the following picture should send shivers down your spine...

This old fashion "six-pack" instrument panel...quickly becoming a rare sight...paints a dire picture.  The most alarming instrument of course is the one in the middle...the "attitude indicator" or Primary Flight Display as we call it.  This jet is in a 120 degree left bank accompanied by a 10 degree nose up attitude.  At 5,240 feet above sea level descending at 1,500 feet per minute with an indicated airspeed of 200 knots, the pilot doesn't have much room for recovery.  What you can't see in the picture is that the wing is clean (flaps and slats retracted) and the minimum maneuvering speed is 235 knots.  Alarming to say the least.

You might be wondering two things.  First...how on earth did the pilot (me) let the aircraft get into this predicament in the first place and second...how could he (again...it's me) be so derelict in his duties to stop and take a picture instead of reacting to a clearly life threatening situation.  The answer to both is that this is a simulated event.  I recently attended recurrent training, a four day refresher course that my airline puts me through every 9 months.  Day one and two consisted of ground school classes on various subjects.  Day three consisted of a two hour simulator brief followed by four hours in the sim practicing all types of approaches and emergency situations.  Day four consisted of a LOFT (Line Oriented Flight Training) during which we flew from point A to point B in real time, encountering a number of unusual situations and mechanical abnormalities along the way. 

After the LOFT, my training partner and I received two hours of "Advanced Maneuvers Training" where we were subjected to the situation pictured above.  The picture could depict one of any number of scenarios, but the most likely, especially at such a low altitude, is an encounter with wake turbulence.

An airplane makes a wake through the air much like a boat makes a wake in the water.  Except that instead of a one dimensional spread on the surface of the water, the wake behind an airplane spreads out and sinks.  The wake rolls off the wingtips, creating little tornadoes in its path, and is most severe behind large aircraft at low airspeeds.  To visualize this, picture dragging your hand through the surface of the water in a pool.  If you pull your hand through the water quickly, like a speed boat skimming across the surface of the water, the result is a relatively small wake.  Now drag your hand through the water a little slower and allow your hand to sink deeper into the water.  The result is a much larger wake.  A large airplane flying at approach speeds (relatively slow) creates the largest wake.

There are ample opportunities to encounter wake turbulence as aircraft criss-cross the skies, but there are really only three scenarios when it becomes a common threat.  The most unlikely encounter is during cruise flight.  Large commercial aircraft typically fly roads in the sky called Jet Airways.  It is possible that one airplane could fly the exact path of another, especially with advances in navigation technologies like GPS that literally put aircraft within inches of an airway centerline.  But GPS navigation has also resulted in the ability to "cut the corner" and fly direct between points, thus decreasing the chance of encountering wake turbulence while at altitude.  Also, since wake turbulence tends to sink over time, it is highly unlikely to encounter wake turbulence even when flying at the minimum required distance behind another airplane.

A more common opportunity to encounter this type of turbulence is on an approach.  As I mentioned before, an airplane creates the largest wake when it is traveling at slower airspeeds as when approaching for landing.  As the picture below suggests, there is a pre-determined glide path that a pilot is expected to fly when approaching an airport.  And again, since wake turbulence sinks, as along as each pilot follows the prescribed "glide slope," an encounter with the wake from a preceding airplane is unlikely.

ILS 25L, Los Angeles, California

However, pilots don't always fly the glide slope.  The pilot ahead on an approach may have started down late or could have been held up high by an approach controller.  Either way, if the airplane ahead is high on the glide slope, then its wake could easily sink into your flight path.  To complicate matters, it is often difficult to know if the guy ahead is high or low, so a pilot must always be prepared for such an encounter.

The last and, in my experience, most common opportunity for a wake turbulence event is during the initial climb after takeoff.  Every flight instructor tells new students to make note of the lift-off and touchdown points of arriving and departing aircraft.  Wingtip vortices begin when an airplane lifts off the runway and end when it touches down.  If you can lift off before the preceding departure and climb above its flight path, you will avoid wake turbulence.  You will also avoid wake turbulence if you fly above the flight path of an arriving aircraft and land beyond its touchdown point.

The MD82 I fly is an old design that takes significantly more runway to takeoff than newer aircraft of similar size like the Boeing 737 and Airbus A320.   Even larger aircraft like the Boeing 757 often use less runway than my old MD82.  The result is that I often find myself in the danger zone after lift-off and during the initial climb.  In this scenario, the best course of action is distance and the passage of time.  When taking off behind the heaviest of aircraft, five to six miles in-trail and/or 2 minutes, is usually enough time for the wake from a preceding departure to sink and dissipate to a point that it is no longer dangerous.   

What you see above is the most probable cause of the situation I found myself in.  Air rolls off the wingtips of just about any airplane and forms a spiral flow of air like a small tornado.  The "vortex" formed by a significantly heavy aircraft is large enough to completely envelope an MD82.  When encountered, this little tornado will roll the airplane on its longitudinal axes and could easily flip the aircraft upside down.  I went from level flight to what you saw in the top picture in two seconds...and as I mentioned before, the proximity to the ground combined with my speed left little room to recover.

Speed and altitude are your friend!

The proper recovery technique involves a combination of aileron and rudder inputs in the opposite direction of the roll in addition to pitch and power management.  It is also important to note that most any airplane is structurally designed to withstand full authority rudder input.  But it is not designed to accept a full reversal...that is, to push one rudder to the floor, then immediately reverse inputs and push the other rudder to the floor.  In the event pictured above, I pushed on the right rudder and commanded almost full aileron input to the right to counteract the roll caused by a wake turbulence encounter.  I pushed the nose down slightly below the horizon in order to control speed and increased power on the engines.  If managed correctly, you should be able to safely exit the wake with minimal altitude loss.  In this event, I lost less than 1,000 feet before recovering to straight and level flight.

We refer to this as "Unusual Attitude" training.  Wake turbulence is just one example of an event that could induce an unusual attitude, but the training is invaluable and is something we practice frequently during our regular training cycle.  As is the case with many aspects of aviation, avoidance is the best policy, but rest assured, your pilot has been well trained.

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"When you land...please call this number"

I got the dreaded call this week, "When you land...please call this number."  For those of you who don't fly, I'm not sure how to accurately describe the feeling pilots get when they hear those words.  I rank this phrase right up there with "say your altitude."  Simple words that strike fear into any aviator.  For me there was an immediate uneasiness in my stomach as I perused my memory of the last hour of flight.

"A pilot lives in a world of perfection, or not at all"

-- Richard S. Drury, "My Secret War"

We departed Palm Springs, California an hour earlier and were cruising at 31,000 feet when Los Angeles Center gave us a phone number and instructions to call SOCAL TRACON after we landed.  SOCAL TRACON is an acronym for Southern California Terminal Radar Approach Control, which controls most traffic in and out of southern California airports.  I immediately knew what they wanted to discuss and knew I had not violated any FAR's, but I still felt slightly uneasy...a little like that feeling you get when a policeman is following you on the highway.  You know you're driving under the limit, your tags and inspections are up to date, but it still makes you uncomfortable to have him back there.

Before we left Palm Springs, I contacted "Clearance Delivery" who issued our en-route clearance.  We were instructed to fly the CATHEDRAL ONE DEPARTURE (CATH1.PSP) V370 TNP then as filed.  Take a look at the departure below.  Departing runway 31L, the procedure called for us to climb on an initial heading of 310 degrees until passing  the Palm Springs 268 degree radial, followed by a right turn direct to the Palm Springs VOR.  After passing the Palm Springs VOR, we would fly the PSP 104 degree radial until passing the EMRUD intersection, then make a right turn direct to PSP.  Confused yet?  The procedure also requires pilots to cross PSP the second time at 6,200 feet before proceeding to the northeast on V370.  Terrain around the airport necessitates these turns, providing more distance to climb above surrounding mountains before venturing away from the security of the valley surrounding the airport.

CATHEDRAL ONE DEPARTURE - Palm Springs, California

Palm Springs International, looking west past the passenger terminal.

I jotted down the clearance on our flight plan then loaded the route into the FMS.  The CATHEDRAL ONE is not an RNAV departure, but I intended to use the FMS to guide us along the route.  An important part of the pre-flight process is the route check.  After I loaded the route into the FMS, the Captain checked my entries as I read from the clearance and the flight plan.  It is standard procedure at most airlines for one pilot to load the FMS and for the other pilot to check his work.

Here's an unrelated video that shows how to load the FMS (also known as the GFMS on this jet).

It was at this point that I noticed a discrepancy between what was depicted on the chart verses what appeared in our FMS.  I took the picture below while sitting at the gate before push back and engine start.  See if you can see the difference.  Take a look at the departure procedure and decide which way you would turn after EMRUD.  Now take a look at what the FMS instructed us to do.  After EMRUD, the chart shows a right turn and the FMS shows a turn to the left.  

The terrain I was most concerned about was west of the airport, so I was surprised that the procedure called for a turn toward the mountains.  But regardless of what seemed right or logical, I wanted to know what ATC was expecting us to do.  Here's where things got a little more confusing.  I asked PSP Clearance to find out which way they expected us to turn after EMRUD.  His response?  "I would expect you to turn left.  There are mountains to the right."  Well, now I was really confused.

After some time and a promise that he would check into the matter, clearance confirmed that the chart was correct.  A right turn didn't seem logical, but that's what the procedure instructed us to do.  The whole thing was a moot point, since we were able to climb fast enough that the teardrop turn after PSP was not necessary.  Even with a fully loaded jet, we were able to climb well above the 6,200 foot restriction and were almost immediately cleared on course.  The picture below is our actual flight path.

An hour into the flight, someone a little higher up in the chain of command at SOCAL got involved and wanted more information.  Thankfully, the ass chewing that usually goes with "call us when you land" wasn't going to happen today.  The moral of the story is to check your FMS or GPS or whatever it is you are using.  Don't assume the data in your device is correct.  Don't assume the guy on the other end of the radio knows the procedure.  Safety is everything...trust but verify.  

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Single Engine

Most of my flying during the past 18 years has taken place in and out of the same airport...an airport with which I am now quite familiar.  Like anything else, familiarity and routine can be both a positive and a negative thing.  On the positive side, it helps a pilot predict what is coming next and highlights unusual clearances, mistakes and anything else that might be out of the norm.  For instance, the normal climb out of DFW goes something like this…the initial clearance for jet aircraft is a climb to 10,000.  Typically, the first departure controller will clear you directly to 17,000.  The first center controller issues a clearance to FL230 and the first high altitude controller will issue a clearance to your filed cruise altitude, usually somewhere in the mid-thirties.

If you're familiar with what's normal, then you know that an initial clearance to something less than 10,000 is a good indication that there's traffic in the departure corridor that isn't usually there.  The absence of a clearance to 17,000 indicates conflicting traffic on the arrival.  A clearance to something less than FL230 might indicate that you are following slower traffic which would require a level off to avoid separation issues.  Pilots commonly use the term S.A...situational awareness.  S.A. is knowing what is happening around you at all times.  Not just with your flight, but with anyone around you.  We're all sharing the same taxiways, runways and airspace, and knowing and paying attention to what everyone else is doing only adds to the level of safety.  

Another byproduct of familiarity and routine is that it helps a pilot remember unusual events.  Many of the details in the story I’m about to share are seared into my memory more in relation to their departure from the norm, than anything else. 

The Captain was working the radios and I was at the controls as we took off from runway 18L on our way to Mexico for what was supposed to be a simple turn-around.  We had a full load of passengers and a heavy load of fuel in anticipation of poor weather at our destination, so the aircraft was well above maximum landing weight as we took to the air.  Our initial clearance altitude was 10,000, the first departure controller cleared us straight to 17,000, the first en-route controller cleared us to FL230 and the high altitude controller immediately cleared us to our cruise altitude.  So far so good.

As we passed FL230 we got a call from the First Class Flight Attendant who explained that she had our meals ready.  Yes, we get fed at meal time in the cockpit, but we usually get fed after the meal service is complete in the cabin.  Crew meals are a contractually negotiated perk that we have managed to hold onto over the years.  They’re a little like eating the same thing every day at a restaurant you don’t particularly like, but the food is free and pilots are cheap.

At any rate, the unusual timing of the cabin to cockpit chime highlighted the moment and the altitude in my mind.  As the Captain got out of his seat and stepped back to the cockpit door, the amber “Caution” light illuminated on the glare shield in front of me.  This light is designed to catch the pilot’s attention and direct him to an abnormal condition with the aircraft.  The overhead panel is a sea of lights, buttons and switches, but situated above the windshield and below the overhead panel is an annunciator panel.  Usually blank at this stage of the flight, the OIL STRAINER CLOGGING light stood out like a sore thumb.

"Master Caution" and "Master Warning" lights in the upper right hand corner.

MD80 Annunciator Panel as it normally looks during flight...dark, no lights

This is an issue I've handled before…on more than one occasion actually…but never in the real airplane.  It’s come up a few times in the simulator on a LOFT (Line Oriented Flight Training), something we do every nine months to stay current.  This time it was real and although the first thing we did was consult the emergency checklist, I knew what it said to do.

We were in communication with Houston Center at the time and the Captain requested a level off at FL240 because he too knew what was coming.  The Captain read the checklist as I performed the procedure.  After turning the auto throttle off, I added pressure to the left rudder pedal as I pulled the right engine to idle thrust.  I held pressure on the rudder instead of adding trim because I knew we would be starting down in a few moments and would have both engines at idle, negating the need for trim.

The warning light remained illuminated, but all other engine parameters appeared normal…oil temperature, pressure and quantity normal…EGT normal…N1 and N2 normal.  We were not required to shut down the engine.  It's much better to leave an engine running at idle if at all possible.  At idle, the engine is not providing any thrust, but it is providing air and electricity and is standing by to produce thrust if absolutely necessary.

I have declared an emergency on numerous occasions in my 25 year flying career and have always received prompt and helpful service from ATC.  Today would be no different.  I pushed the throttle up on the good engine in an attempt to control speed and asked the Captain to request a lower altitude.  Given the heat of summer and our heavier than normal weight, we weren't going to be able to maintain FL240.  The Captain declared an emergency and requested an immediate descent and a turn back toward the airport.  We were cleared to descend at our discretion to FL180, an altitude we could maintain on one engine, and were cleared directly to the airport.  We were now headed the wrong way on a heavily traveled departure corridor from one of the busiest airports in the nation, but ATC would clear the path for a straight in arrival with no delays.

 “Say souls on board and fuel remaining”

One of my jobs as the First Officer is to review the weight and balance data that the company sends us after we leave the gate.  This data must be received, reviewed and verified as correct before we can legally takeoff.  The closeout comes in the form of a short printout in the cockpit with all the information we need to verify the weight and balance of the aircraft.  Part of my personal routine is to write the flight number, draw a line from our planned flap setting to the stabilizer trim setting and make note of the number of souls on board in large enough print to be seen by old eyes…mine and the Captains.  (Pictured below is the closeout from another flight).  Souls on board and fuel remaining are typically the first two things ATC wants to know after a pilot declares an emergency.

“145 souls on board, three hours fifteen minutes fuel remaining”

After completing the checklists, the Captain was very busy keeping the Flight Attendants in the loop, making PA announcements to concerned passengers and coordinating our arrival back at the airport.  He delegated flying the airplane and working the radios to me. It was at this point that I remember making a conscious decision to make the arrival as normal as possible.  This goes back to the concept that know what is normal will highlight things that are not.  I wanted this arrival to look as normal as possible to help me identify anything else that wasn't.

As we descended with both engines at idle power, there was no differential thrust so the airplane flew normally.  I planned to pass abeam the departure end of the runway at 8,000 feet so I could make a power off descent to the final approach course.  We called the airport in sight and were cleared for a visual approach to runway 18R.  We could have had any runway we wanted, but 18R was the normal runway, so we stuck with normal.  We started our turn from the downwind leg back toward the airport as we passed through 5,000 feet and I didn't have to add power until we were almost over the final approach fix.

I slowed the aircraft and configured for landing as I would for any other flight with the exception of the flap setting.  We are required to use 28 degrees of flaps instead of the normal 40 degrees when landing single engine to help with climb performance in the unlikely event of a single engine go-around.  Less flaps...less drag...all good when operating on one engine.

At about 1,200 feet above touch down, I increased the power one last time on the good engine and stabilized our approach speed.  I'm not embarrassed to admit that the last 1,000 feet of the approach got my blood pressure up just a hair.  This was my first single engine landing out of the simulator.  We were over the maximum landing weight for the aircraft by almost 10,000 pounds and flying on one engine.  The approach needed to be perfect and in order to prevent damage to the aircraft, the touchdown needed to be smoother than normal.

I set the main gear smoothly onto the runway, lowered the nose until the wheel touched and raised the reverse thrust lever on the good engine as I applied the brakes.  We slowed to taxi speed on the runway and leisurely took the last high speed turnoff from the runway where the “safety vehicles” were waiting for our arrival.

 “Safety vehicles”

I may be letting the "cat out of the bag" here, but when making PA announcements to the passengers, there are many words we generally avoid…thunderstorm, tornado, wind-shear, emergency, engine failure, fire…just to name a few.  In this case, the words “fire truck” could strike fear into an otherwise calm and collected passenger.   Imagine if you will, a first time flyer sitting at the over-wing exit. He read the safety card in the seat back in front of him, so he's fully qualified, right?  After landing, the aircraft is surrounded by fire trucks with lights ablaze and a hand full of guys wearing full fire gear jump out and surround the jet. It isn't at all inconceivable that this guy might panic, pop the emergency exit and evacuate.  What a mess!  We want the passengers to be informed and we want them to know what is going to happen next, but certain words just cloud the issue.  We avoided stressful words and warned everyone ahead of time about the "safety vehicles."  No worries...please remain seated.

We stopped the aircraft on the taxiway just clear of the runway and shut down the right engine as the “safety vehicles” inspected our aircraft and gave us the all clear to taxi to the gate.  To be honest, the whole thing was a little anti-climactic.  I've trained for this sort of thing many times.  The Captain and the Flight Attendants were so good at their duties that most of the passengers hardly knew anything was wrong.  I stood in the door of the cockpit to say goodbye as everyone calmly deplaned.  I didn't notice single concerned face.  Most people said thank you and I even heard a few "nice flight" type comments.  I wondered to myself if they knew we weren't in Mexico.

An hour later we were climbing through FL240 for the second time that day, but with slightly more productive results.  On to our destination and back again, I was home within two hours of when my wife was expecting me.  I don’t think she even noticed.

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Medical Emergency

I was responding to our instructions to “Descend now, cross MOOSE at FL 240” when I heard the cabin emergency signal. I turned up the volume on the intercom in time to hear one of the flight attendants in the back alerting the others that we had a passenger in distress near the last row. A man in his 40’s had lost consciousness after standing near his seat and hit his head on the way to the floor. One of the flight attendants tried to break his fall, but was injured in the process. The captain instructed me to declare a medical emergency and handle the flying and ATC communications while he took over coordination with the flight attendants and our company dispatch.

As we learned later from exiting passengers, the flight attendants were doing an excellent job with their patient and were both calm and collected as they performed life saving duties. They are trained for this sort of thing, but situations like this are uncommon. Normally, the flight attendants are seen passing out drinks and trying to make everyone’s flight a little more comfortable, but they are trained for much more. Even on a routine flight, they perform many safety related duties that are not recognized by the average traveler, but when called upon in an emergency, they are invaluable.

In the cockpit, it seemed like the interphone chime sounded a hundred times in the 15 minutes it took us to get on the ground. Every time there was a change in the passenger’s condition, we were notified. The Captain was in constant contact with the flight attendants, company dispatch, and the “on-call physician” available to us via phone patch. Passenger condition, medical history, medications…everything was important. You never know how these things are going to turn out and I've seen them go both ways…but you have to assume and prepare for the worst. Sometimes you do everything in your power to get what you think is a dying passenger on the ground only to have them walk off the jet in seemingly perfect health. Other times, it’s the real deal and a life is in the balance.

Once I uttered the word “emergency” to ATC, we were immediately cleared direct to our destination and others in our path were given vectors to clear the way. I increased our speed to Mach .80 and transitioned to 330 knots. As far as the flying was concerned, everything we were doing felt out of the norm, so I had to be very careful to plan my descent and speed reduction to avoid any mistakes. I wanted to fly as fast as possible and delay my speed reduction as late as I could, but had to plan carefully, and when it came to the approach, flew normal speeds and utilized standard procedures in order to insure the safety of all those on board. We had our choice of runways and were cleared direct to the outer marker from about 80 miles out. As we broke out of the clouds at about 1000 ft, we could see that there was a line of planes awaiting our arrival. All departures were suspended as we approached the airport to insure there would be no delays for our flight.

After landing, the tower cleared us directly to our gate where paramedics, passenger service personnel and a ground crew were ready and waiting. As we approached the gate, I asked our passengers to remain seated until the paramedics had entered the aircraft and assessed the situation. Thankfully for all involved, this situation ended well. The ill passenger was removed from the aircraft and taken to the hospital where he was treated and released. The injured flight attendant had a bruised hand and will recover fully. To be honest, the whole thing was a little anti-climactic. After we arrived at the gate, my job was essentially over. It seemed like there should be more for me to do, but there wasn’t. I thanked everyone involved, packed up my bags and headed for home.

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