Archive for the airliner Category

Air Travel and the Ebola Circus.

Posted in air travel, airline pilot blog, airliner, airlines, Ebola, flight crew, passenger, travel with tags , , , , , on October 14, 2014 by Chris Manno

 


Ziploc


Air Travel and the Ebola Circus.

“If we couldn’t laugh we would all go insane.” –Jimmy Buffet

Government leaders are frantic to do something, anything, to assuage concern about the potential spread of Ebola. But air travel is neither the problem nor the solution.

Nonetheless, the government answer is, as in so many crises, that even doing a useless thing is better than doing nothing. So we now have “increased screening” at several airports, including JFK. But the problem is, the Ebola patient who died recently in Dallas arrived from Brussels, while the increased screening targets passengers arriving from Liberia, Sierra Leonne, and Guinea. One connection later, as in his case, the possibility of detection is beyond the “new” screening.

 

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Meanwhile, no mention is made of special screening of international arrivals in Los Angeles, San Francisco and Seattle, all of which have seaports and airports with regular international arrivals from Europe, Asia and the Middle East. The Dallas Ebola carrier could just as easily have entered the US on the west coast–or through DFW, Chicago or Miami for that matter–with no additional “screening.” And the notion that  increasing screening at certain airports is the solution sidesteps the fact that a traveler could arrive in Mexico City or Toronto and simply drive or walk across the border; or, working a cargo, tanker or cruise ship, simply enter through any seaport.  Again, it’s not air travel, it’s global mobility that is the vulnerability.

In any case, the special new air travel screening is really little more than a drug store twenty dollar digital thermometer and a lot of self-reporting. That charade is more theater than medicine, as Ebola has proven time and again, lying dormant well past the initial examination. The “enhanced” screening ignores the majority of the arrivals, and has a limited accuracy due to the incubation period of the disease, for the small minority of international arrivals who are screened. And there’s no special screening for the enormous flow of rail, sea or motor transportation across our borders.

 

Seriously? This is "enhanced screening?"

Seriously? This is “enhanced screening?”

 

And even worse yet, the lynchpin of the “enhanced” screening procedure is truthful answers to posed questions. The Dallas Ebola carrier simply didn’t report his exposure in order to enable his travel and the new “temperature check” wouldn’t have–and didn’t, as he departed Africa–detect the latent disease anyway.

 

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Given the high profile of Ebola as news media rush to cover and broadcast a “scare,” it was inevitable that panic would attend an incident of vomiting on an airplane. But the reality is, passengers getting airsick is as old as air travel itself. I used to take it personally as a pilot, as if I’d somehow not flown smoothly enough. That was until I noted that even just taxiing out from Las Vegas or New Orleans was often attended by hangover puking in the cabin. Now, however, this typical, ugly occurrence warrants a Hazmat response, plus YouTube and Twitter coverage of the unfortunate event.

 

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The crossroads of Ebola and air travel is a cataclysm of the news media at its worst and social media at its best: the tail wags the dog as regular news sources struggle to keep up with the instantaneous digital grapevine of Twitter, Instagram, Facebook and YouTube.

In the end, cable and broadcast media abdicate their responsibilities to investigate and report facts and simply show random, unmediated Tweets and video clips and call it news. As a nation we’re all the worse for indulging in group hysteria, but it seems that nothing is more important for an individual with a cellphone than a shot at the Andy Warhol fifteen minutes of fame which the desperate-for-headlines news media recklessly offers. Culture, unfortunately, trumps common sense and journalistic ethics.

 

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Meanwhile, the government implements showy passenger screening changes for air travel only and calls that prevention, neglecting any meaningful intervention in a global threat by attacking the disease itself. That in a nutshell is the hopeless tragicomedy that is the “first world” public and government response to a deadly plague.

Because while the media microscope is trained on flights and “screening,” the root cause languishes in the background. In reality, controlling global mobility by all modes, and developing a vaccine is the right strategy. But that sensible call to action seldom heard above the media uproar about air travel. Which only confirms for me what a very wise woman I know is wont to say: “We are a nation of idiots.”

So as Jimmy Buffet suggested, we might as well laugh about it while we can, or at least until someone finally (if ever) looks beyond air travel and focuses on a real containment strategy, plus a vaccine. Because as I’ve said, air travel is neither the problem nor the solution.

Meaningful action won’t come from the fumbling “government,” and it sure won’t be the hapless news media. But the joke’s on us until then.

 

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Hard Blue Redemption

Posted in air travel, airline pilot blog, airliner, airlines, flight crew, pilot with tags , , , , , , , , , on September 26, 2014 by Chris Manno

5am

Slap that alarm in the dark; AGAIN … now it’s on the floor. Damn. Fight your way out of the amnesia of sleep, gradually rejoining the world: damn again–realize you’re not home, this isn’t your bed, your stuff and consequently, not your day. That’s the Original Sin of air travel: you sold the day, wet-leased it, and your flying skills to the airline whose uniform is strewn in a trail leads from the door of the hotel room, across the floor and to the bed you’re finally rising from, stiff, un-caffeinated and rumpled, inside and out. You bought the ticket–you take the ride.

Darkness in a time zone east of your own is a double-whammy: it’s early, earlier still from the time change, and it’s only a charcoal gray dawn as night relents but grudgingly. And listen: rain, but not only rain, wind-whipped and cold-slung pellet rain, one of the reasons you don’t live in this “there,” one of the many “theres” far from the “here” of home, but also with too many good reasons why it isn’t home: like early season pelting freezin’ rain. Be glad you’re not waking up as First Officer, who’ll have to do the exterior preflight.

Light? There … on; sit. Good dog. And there’s another flash in the back of your mind, a cobalt pilot light ever glowing, growing: sky. Flight. The reason of the day, for the day sold to the owners of the jets you get to fly. The sky, blue as the speck in your mind, the gas blue sheen but a down payment, earnest money, underwriting the rest of the day in the blue.

Around “there” (check the nightstand before acknowledging where exactly “there” is–the phone book has more than once corrected a faulty assumption: “Oops, Cleveland, not Columbus”) the gears of life will turn differently for a hundred and fifty other early rising souls who’ll converge with you on the boxy stacked concrete airport. For them, “here,” your “there,” is home. They’re leaving home, you’re just leaving “there.” You wish the best for them and their “there,” wherever that may be.

Wrestle with aerodynamics from your first waking moment: the Venturi effect of the shower sucks the Saran Wrap-thin hotel shower curtain inward to mat against the body you’re trying to wake with trial-by-needles of always “too” hotel bath water: too hot, too cold (no in between), just be done with it.

Double-bag the in-room coffee maker: regular plus decaf equals stout yet blah but passable brew. Reassemble the uniform, throw everything back into the bag with five minutes to spare before show time. That’s both literal and figurative: the show time for the crew, the “AIV” (Ass In Van) time to leave the hotel, plus showtime for the non-crew. They will either to ignore you (my fervent hope) or engage you, which will go all kinds of wrong unless you hide behind a phalanx of flight attendants who are professional at “friendly, especially before an entire day of thoughtless and often rude passenger behavior.

out of nice

Through the airport, selective eye contact. You don’t need to hear anyone’s tale of terror and the plane allegedly falling thousands of feet and blah blah, whatever. And you definitely don’t want to hear any guy’s (why is it always men?) explanation about why they’re not a pilot, because there are too many damn good reasons why you shouldn’t be a pilot but you refused to give in. And there were too many in the Air Force pilot chase–including you, at times–who were scared shitless in some of the flying but didn’t quit, and even some who died in the trying and flying anyway. So let’s avoid that eye roll.

Silver tail: there she is. Heart skips like a first date: she’s beautiful, here for you, yours all day. Let’s get to work.

Morning light struggles with tumbly dark clouds tacking the sky like schooners on a gale. Sheets of rain rake the Tarmac and the big tail bucks the gusts, rocking the jet. A cup of coffee, a bar of something with a side order of precision: weights, power settings, instrument departure route, climb and cruise. Certify that it’s correct–get your phone out and call for more fuel: DO IT. You never regret that later.

The slow trundle aboard the ark continues under the background music of the tower frequency and an electric monotone issuing clearances; wait for your own. Verify each point. Scan the sky, eyeball to eyeball, what’s it really doing? You have the weather report, but you don’t fly on paper. Who’s winning the fight for the sky?

Cracks of indigo and slats of sunshine joust in the heaving sky as morning clears its throat making way for noon. It’s the early blue that’s best, a dark, hard blue promising so much more than an evening sky that’s mostly a grudging, sighing concession to an overpowering night. Savor the taxi out, careful, slow, watching the sky fight itself, clearing, tearing up the rumpled angry cloud banks and flinging them east like a dissipating surf boiling away against a rocky shore.

At the right moment (at last!) it’s time to climb; pour on the coals, ride the thunder, ascend, climb. Through the clouds then above, let them all fall away with the earth, somebody else’s squabble now. Salvation in flight, above the dirt and rocks and concrete and asphalt and hotel shower curtains, time away, not here but there but now away; suspended between here and there by the salvation of flight.

There’s the hard blue redemption of a sky that deepens the higher you fly, going to black straight above. Quiet crystalline cold, smooth; the big jet cruises with ease. High enough for now, Icarus, perched in the blue, halfway to there. Savor the flight while it lasts.

 

Now you can own a piece of JetHead:

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These 25 short essays in the best tradition of JetHead put YOU in the cockpit and at the controls of the jet.

Some you’ve read here, many have yet to appear and the last essay, unpublished and several years in the writing,  I consider to be my best writing effort yet.

Priced at the printing production cost, this collection is not for profit–it’s for YOU to keep.

Own a piece of JetHead, from Amazon Books and also on Kindle.

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The Big Girl and What You Don’t Know

Posted in air travel, airline, airline pilot blog, airliner, airlines, pilot with tags , , , , , , , , on September 19, 2014 by Chris Manno

She stands tall in the chocks, that DC-10, all shiny polished aluminum gleaming at the leading edges like an Atlas rocket. A grand old bird, a design maybe Mac-Doug rushed into production to compete with what some called the better tri-jet from Lockheed. Not that I gave a damn, first as flight engineer, or Tengineer, as we were called, then as DC-10 copilot.

Because she had what a pilot needed–lots of lift on a fat gull-wing that produced a nice ground effect cushion to make you look good on landing if you treated her right, and tons of smash in those growly hi-bypass fans slung under the wing and mounted in the towering tail. For all her bulk and heft, she’d go like a halfback after the snap.

And in the cockpit, windows so wide next to the pilots’ seats that you’d swear you were going to fall out and drop two stories to the Tarmac on your first pushback. That took some getting used to.

That morning I was flying with Big John, a guy as nervous as you might expect a senior captain to be just months from retirement, not wanting to screw up. He had an enormous belly, hence the nickname, which I’d slap with the control yoke when I pulled it back during the taxi-out flight control check.

You’re supposed to watch the small, square flight control position indicator in the center of the instrument near the Thrust Rating Computer as you put the ailerons and elevator through their paces. But it was more fun, out of the corner of my eye, to watch Big John’s rubbery lips twist into a frown by the second or third time I’d heave back on the yoke till it popped him on the gut.

“Watcha tryin’ to do, boy–loop it?” he’d ask with a wet, wheezy sigh. The flight engineer and I would share a laugh about that over beers later. Conspiratorial, we were, young pilots laughing at the fat old captain.

The big jet rolled like a tank on the ground but once in the air, she climbed steady and strong, shoved smartly by those three big, snarling engines. Once she leveled off and planed out like a speedboat does, her nose dropped and she was a thoroughbred on a quarter mile track, effortlessly sailing along at .84 Mach, mane flying, not even breaking a sweat. And there was the quiet beauty of a morning flight, with everything below bathed in a rising arc light of sunshine as if revealing the new day by degrees of latitude and the majestic solar march along the ecliptic.

In cruise there was nothing to do but put your feet up on the traction-taped bar below the sparsely stocked instrument panel–it was so wide it just seemed empty–and ease that electric seat back a comfortable inch or two more. Then the good flight engineer would produce a small bottle of unreasonably Scoville-blazing hot sauce and make us Virgin Mary’s with the tomato juice in the collection of drinks and snacks and a pot of hot coffee and water the flight attendants had tossed into the cockpit on climbout to keep us pacified.

The Ten design engineers took cabin pressurization a step further than most jets, not only modulating outflow to maintain a habitable pressure despite the membrane-thin atmosphere where we cruised–but also varying the input tapped off of the big engines humming out on the fat wings. So she puffed and wheezed like Big John struggling his girth into the crew van, as the three air cycle machines opened and closed high stage bleeds.

AIPTEK

You might not notice so much in the cabin, but having spent a thousand hours myself manning the DC-10 flight engineer’s panel, even up front I was in tune with her calliope-ish huffing, familiar as a the breathing of spouse of so many years in the middle of the night.
“Not really happy ’bout these winds,” Big John said, shaking his head. “Big damn crosswind.” Which really mattered at LaGarbage, with its fairly short runways.

But the engineer and I couldn’t care; Virgin Mary’s and tonight in Manhattan mattered more: with half the flight attendant crew–the others would find something better to do–we’d walk from the Mildew Plaza to the Westside Temple for crappy Chinese but free wine. All you could drink, though the wine tasted like piss. But it was free and we were airline pilots: free piss is free piss. Big John could pour down a bucket by himself.

“Seems marginal,” Big John muttered, holding the current wind printout. That was the good engineer’s cue to check it out on his tabletop wind chart. We all knew the limits.

“It’s right at it,” the engineer offered. At it ain’t over it, we both decided, but of course Big John had signed for the jet, the damages, plus the FAA and NTSB beating should so much as a ding appear on the silver girl’s skin.

The engineer shrugged a second officer shrug: I told the captain the winds. I did too: I agreed. Glad it’s not my decision.
“Tough call,” Big John said, searching my eyes, I figured, for some hint as to what I’d do if I were him.

And that’s the moment blazed into my mind to this day as I carry his weight. Not his gut, but his pilot-in-command weight, in the twenty-some years I’ve been wearing four stripes. Ain’t no simple, pat answers, just air sense, and the ability to bring others into the decision in a meaningful way.

“We’ll fly the approach as long as we have the fuel increment to divert to JFK on the missed approach with at least fifteen thousand pounds on the deck there. In a standard Korry arrival that leaves about fifteen extra minutes after the full approach so we bingo out at twenty-five regardless. Just request clearance on the missed.”

Then, the golden question. He turned to both of us. “Now, what am I not thinking?”

Not, what do you think of my plan, which is a useless question if you want to know what others think (Your plan? Okay, but I have other ideas) or what you might not know. What am I not thinking?

dc-10 a crop

“That sounds like a good plan,” I said. It was–and there wasn’t anything in my head that I could share or hold back, especially since he asked. Simple? Might seem so–everywhere but the left seat where the buck stops, where the authority and responsibility irrevocably resides. Big John didn’t need an answer from me–he’d been a captain since I was in grade school. What he needed was what every captain needs: information, ideas, data, and a linked-in crew trained to speak up and comfortable doing so.

Because it’s not what you know–Big John knew plenty–it’s what you don’t know that’ll bust your ass. It’s crucial to ask and by doing so, demonstrate that asking, that searching for what we don’t know to perfect what we do is the way we’re going to think and fly this jet. And speak up about it, dammit, because we’re a team.

We stepped her down through the complex arrival that is the New York Center latticework of airways and approach corridors. I aimed at the two big Maspeth tanks, we were cleared the Expressway visual that’s a box pattern of low-altitude, tight maneuvering (can’t interfere with the JFK pattern) close in and eventually, treetop level. Big John called the left turns for me like a third base coach, having the better view of the SS LaGarbage over his shoulder.

She rolled out squared up, power on against the barn doors of max landing flaps hanging off the trailing edges of the wings. Just a touch of right rudder and she lined up true against the crosswind which less than the limit, or so it felt. The Ten was a stable giant, unlike the squirrely MD-80 I’d also flown as copilot, requiring constant tugging at the leash to get her to heel. When the big gear trucks rolled onto the runway, the ponderous weight settling, it was like she wanted to stop, a great feeling the DC-10 conveyed through your feet on the brakes and the mass weighing her down.

That flight is etched in my memory not only for what Captain Big John showed me, but because of the discovery waiting for me among the half dozen useless messages in my crew inbox after the trip. Sandwiched in the middle was a notice of pending crew status: my captain upgrade class, scheduled for the next month. Just like that, my eyes became Big John’s, needing to know, wanting to make the best decision and from that day forward, accountable.

AIPTEK

No more riding along, offering, but now the “tough decision” no longer belonged to someone else.

“You’re not yourself tonight,” my engineer friend said later at Smitty’s, the last resort Irish bar only a few body-slams across Eight Avenue from the front doors of the Mildew. We’d watched Big John polish off a trough of Kung Pao Chicken at the Westside Temple, washed down with a tankard of free piss. After a Westside night, the last snort at Smitty’s helped wash the bad taste out of your mouth.

“Yeah,” I said after a moment. “Probably never will be again.” At least I hoped not. I wanted to be worthy of that fourth stripe.
He looked at me like he didn’t get it, but that’s okay. He would, eventually, when his day came. Until then, in his shoes, it’d be just one more thing he didn’t know.

Now you can own a piece of JetHead:

cvr w white border

These 25 short essays in the best tradition of JetHead put YOU in the cockpit and at the controls of the jet.

Some you’ve read here, many have yet to appear and the last essay, unpublished and several years in the writing,  I consider to be my best writing effort yet.

Priced at the printing production cost, this collection is not for profit–it’s for YOU to keep.

Own a piece of JetHead, from Amazon Books and also on Kindle.

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Air Travel: 3 Simple Ways to Make Your Summer Flights Easy

Posted in airline, airline cartoon, airline industry, airline passenger, airline pilot, airline pilot blog, airliner, airlines, airport, flight, flight attendant, flight crew, jet flight with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 9, 2014 by Chris Manno

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Summer time air travel can be stressful, but there are practical and simple things you can do to make your trip easier. Here are my top 3 simple ways to make your summer air travel as efficient and low stress as possible.

1. Information: install the smart phone apps for the travel services that apply to your trip (airline, hotel, rental car) and take a few minutes before your trip to set them up with “push” notifications so you will automatically be notified of gate changes, delays and even rebooking. If you’re notified of a delay by the airline, having a hotel, rental car or resort app installed will put you in touch with those important services quickly and easily. Your pharmacy’s smart phone prescription app can speed you through the refill process in a distant city, or transfer prescriptions in many cases.

 

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Many airline apps let you rebook instantly, avoiding long waits in a customer service line, and can outline your options quickly without you having to navigate a website. Best of all, you can beat the rush when re-booking is necessary. On some airlines–American Airlines is one–you can use the airline’s app and website in flight through the on-board WIFI for free.

On taxi in, when you’re cleared to use your cell phone, you will be notified–if you authorized “push” notifications–of your next gate accurately if you’re connecting, or your baggage claim if your travel is complete. The gate agents pull that info 10-15 minutes before your gate arrival, and we print it out in flight 30-40 minutes prior to landing. But your “push” notifications will be more timely and accurate than the other two sources.

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You can delete any travel apps you don’t need later, but while you’re on the move, there’s no quicker or more accurate way to get the answers you need to your immediate travel needs. Install the apps, know how they work, and use them to stay ahead of the crowd–especially in case of cancellations, delays or gate changes.

2. Survival gear. First, count on none of your basic needs being met: food, water, shelter. Provide all three yourself. First, food: if you can’t buy something in the terminal to take along–and often you can’t–better have whatever compact, long shelf life calories source you can pack: power bars, granola bars–whatever you prefer that will stave off hunger.

Ditto for water: you “can” get water on board, but the question is when, and sometimes, how–are you in the back and they’re starting the beverage service from the front? Or vice versa? Or is it too turbulent to safely move about the cabin for passengers or crew? Just have a liter of bottled water handy per person, then don’t worry about it.

Finally, “shelter:” dress for the trip, not the destination. That resort-wear will not keep you warm in a chilly cabin, particularly on long flights. And here’s a crew secret: your flight attendants are active, working, and blanketed in layers of polyester. Who do you think calls us to ask for changes in the cabin temp? If they’re melting under the uniform layers, you’re going to wish you weren’t in shorts and a tank top, because we’re more likely to hear “cool it down” than “warm it up” from our working crew in back.

cabin freeze

3. Consolidate: all vitals and valuables in one hand-carried, locked bag. Medication, documents and here’s the big one–valuables, like your watch, wallet and any jewelry MUST go into this one locked bag BEFORE security. Why would you ever–and I see this all the time–put your wallet, watch, cell phone and other valuables into an open container on an unmonitored conveyer belt? Why not consolidate them all and then after you’ve successfully passed through security screening, retrieve your items from your locked bag?

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And locked is the key: if you’re pulled aside for additional screening, do you want all of your valuables laying out in the open, outside your reach and often, out of your sight? Even if that one locked bag requires extra screening, the lock ensures it will only be searched in your presence.

The final part of “consolidate” applies to your personal belongings: do NOT disperse your items all over your seat area. It’s a sure way to leave an item on a plane, a fact that is borne out by the number of passports, wallets, personal entertainment devices, tablets, keys and phones that turn up on overnight cleaning of aircraft. If you leave valuables, much less valuable documents like a passport, in the seat back pocket or anywhere else, you’ll likely never see them again. And speaking of “seeing” them, the normal climbs, descents, banking and on landing, braking will cause whatever loose items you may leave or drop on the floor to end up rows away. Even if you check your immediate area before deplaning, some items might have vanished. So don’t scatter your belongings about! Return items to your hand carried bag immediately after use or when not in use.

Face it–air travel is stressful as it is, but a lot of stress can be alleviated by these three steps. Information is king when you’re departing, trying to connect, or are changing plans on the fly due to delays or cancellations. Get the apps, set them up, and use them. Stay hydrated, fed, and warm to ease the physical stress. And finally, move smart: consolidate your valuables and do not let your personal items become strewn about your seating or waiting areas on board or in the terminal. Inflight forces will help them slide away, or if you leave them inadvertently, chances are slim that you’ll ever recover those items.

Follow these simple steps–and have a good flight and a great vacation.

_____________________________________________________________________________

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Inflight Diverts: Costs, Compassion & Common Sense

Posted in air travel, airliner, airlines, flight crew, passenger, pilot with tags , , , , , , , on May 20, 2014 by Chris Manno

Want to see an airline crewmember’s blood boil? Show them this report from the IATA convention in Madrid today:

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Well, okay. I realize that diverts are expensive. But there’s more.

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What’s so bad about that? Everything. First, in flight, nothing is “simple” about a restrained passenger (I’ll get to that below). But worse, besides the cost priority, this next consideration is one steaming plate of wrong for many reasons:

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Where to begin! Let’s sidestep the completely inappropriate “passengers would rather get to their destination” priority and look at the big picture.

First, perspective. The IATA is an industry group comprised of air travel-related businesses, including airlines, travel agencies, and related travel businesses who act as  an advocate to promote the airline industry.

As an airline captain, like most, I share the common goal of supporting a robust airline industry. It’s over priorities that we diverge: the IATA seems largely focused on costs, while crewmembers are focused on–and held accountable for–the safety of the flight and all aboard the aircraft first and foremost, THEN cost.

Here’s where those priorities clash.

Yes, diverts are expensive, among other things: they require quick, accurate and decisive action from the flight crew amidst a field of dynamic and ever changing variables and constraints. In that regard, cost is in the crew decision mix, but obviously it is an inappropriately high priority in the IATA mix.

Here’s where the blood boils in the flight crew veins. Consider the passenger first: what medical conditions are present? What allergies/reactions are in play? What vulnerabilities (meds required, in use, over/under-dosed), physical stress of “restraint” (psychological, cardiac, stroke), impaired breathing/circulation (what if the “restrained” vomits into his taped-shut mouth?), what intoxicants (legal or otherwise) are active, what mental impairment, or other behavior triggers are latent or evident? How secure and for how long is the restraint durable, feasible and reliable?

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The fact is, airliners are NOT designed with restraining seats. Will “duct tape” and belts or whatever is handy last for the duration of the flight–never mind will the person survive–or will they break free and the situation escalate:

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Now, the crew, and let’s be real: any experienced flight crew member will eventually (or has already) considered the historically accurate picture of personal consequence that consistently plays out in cases of passenger injury, illness and restraint. Walk through it with me firsthand:

Attorney, in court/deposition: So, [crew position], please for the record state your qualifications to restrain a passenger, your medical experience to monitor and assess the restrained, your law enforcement authority and experience in safe restraint, monitoring and supervision of restrained passengers, your skill at ongoing assessment and specific background of restrained, and your ability to determine how long such restraint is tolerable physically and medically appropriate?
You: [go ahead--answer …]

That’s got every red blooded crew person’s blood simmering, but here’s where the boiling point comes:

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That’s right: for the IATA, the above court scenario is secondary to the cost of a divert.

Walk with me on diverts for a moment, will you? Last night, on my flight approaching Boston’s Logan Airport.

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Weather closing in, winds presenting near-limiting crosswinds on wet, short runways, crowds waiting to land and take off. Heavy metal transatlantic birds on the tail end of their fuel curve, inbound. We are too–we have required loiter fuel, but that’s all. Like everyone else.

Two hundred miles out, I calculate fuel burn for divert to Providence, Albany and Hartford. I get the current weather for each. I assess the current weather pattern and how it will affect each. I calculate the fuel required to divert while enroute to Boston for each of the three divert options, plus the fuel required to divert from a missed approach at Boston, which is significantly higher for each.

This gives me the data I need to make a decision: when and where do I pull the trigger, based on fuel requirements, to divert, and where to? Make the best plan, fly it.

Notice my consideration of $6,000 to $8,000? It’s really not part of the picture at 40,000 feet and 500 knots–nor should it be.

Now return to the restrained passenger. Would you figure in your complex decision matrix the $8,000 against the unknowns of securing the situation, much less the life of the restrained and those around him, never mind the in-court answerability you WILL provide at zero miles per hour on land, a completely different, hindsight-based inquisition afterward?

I’m glad the industry lobby and support group focuses on costs in order to keep the very fragile, complex airline profitability mix viable. But I’m even more grateful for my airline’s 110% support of my many divert decisions made over 23+ years (and counting) as a captain.

Divert because a passenger was “restrained,” or rowdy? If only diversion were that simple. Despite the simplistic analysis of those with neither responsibility nor accountability, it definitely is not.

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Sex On The Plane: Felony and Filth.

Posted in air travel, airline pilot blog, airliner, airlines, flight crew, passenger with tags , , , , , , , , , on May 12, 2014 by Chris Manno

AIPTEK

Sex on the plane is a disaster from a flightcrew standpoint, plain and simple. This isn’t a  question of morality, which is none of my business. Rather, it’s a question of the captain’s responsibility and accountability for everything that happens in flight. So forget the nudge-wink-“stays in Vegas” marketing and “mile high club” mythology promoted by aging pinky-ring lotharios like Virgin Airlines CEO Richard Branson. Contrary to the fantasy, reality includes both filth and felony.

Consider the situation objectively and the problem becomes clear. First, the aircraft is a sealed environment with little personal space and nearly zero privacy. The latter fact alone should discourage behaviors that would lead to arrest and indecency charges in any other public place, but it doesn’t. And there’s an even darker side.

An NBC News report cited a recent increase in sexual assaults in flight. FBI agents say these crimes are difficult to prosecute because upon landing, potential witnesses scatter and are difficult to locate for testimony.  Neither the FAA nor the NTSB keeps track of these crimes statistically, making organized prevention difficult. Adding to the challenge is the reality that a darkened aircraft, particularly on late night flights, is tough to monitor, especially with an average ratio of one flight attendant per 50 passengers on a full flight.

 

There’s little personal space between airline passengers, often strangers, and many times the victims are asleep at the time of assault. Frequently these cases involve unaccompanied minors with little ability to defend themselves and on a full flight, in the air, there’s literally nowhere to go to escape. According to FBI Supervisory Special Agent Drew Ptasienski, victims of inflight assaults have also pretended to sleep through the attacks and this coping strategy may make an assault appear consensual to nearby passengers when the situation is really anything but.

Flight attendants are prepared to handle assault reports from passengers in flight, and the cockpit crew is more than willing to have federal law enforcement officers meet the aircraft on landing to investigate every case. Nonetheless, many assaults go unreported due to the shocking effect they have on the victims. According to Ptasienski, “Victims are so shocked they’re being assaulted, it takes them awhile to process it.” By the time they do, witnesses are dispersed and evidence gone.

Clearly, there needs to be a viewpoint shift among passengers in particular, to see “intimate” behavior in flight as completely unacceptable, consensual or otherwise: in many cases, passengers assumed what they’d witnessed was consensual, but in reality was a predator assaulting a victim. Yet if all passengers immediately reported every instance to the crew, no matter how things “appeared,” (a simple chime of the call button will bring assistance) the risk would be reduced for all potential victims.

Although such a strict and uncompromising vigilance and action would likely deter sexual assault in flight, such customer awareness runs counter to some marketing strategies. For example, according to a recent Slate article, Virgin Atlantic promises “a more intimate flight” than other airlines, and Virgin CEO Richard Branson encourages passengers to flirt and hook up on board:

Seriously? Consider the fact that a Today Show scientific analysis  rated the aircraft lavatory as the “second germiest place” you’ll ever experience–virtually a flying outhouse, a mile high Petri dish–and rethink the “romantic” aspect.

Consider also the question of what behavior should be tolerated by nearby passengers, especially when faulty assumptions can mask criminal actions, as noted above. Definitely, at least on the part of the crew, zero tolerance is essential, because notwithstanding Virgin’s claim that their crews “are not the type to interrupt” an amorous romp on the plane, after-the-fact accusations, questions of legal age, STDs, and unfortunately, drugs or alcohol will have to be accounted for by those responsible (read: the crew) for the safety of all aboard.

Then the question would be, why didn’t the crew intervene? Why did the crew allow this?

 

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Ironically, despite the cheesy Virgin ad campaign, the reality for frisky Virgin passengers can be anything but romantic. Worse, the “more intimate flight” and such leering Branson “mile high club” marketing may backfire on an airline if a liability suit regarding an in-flight assault lands in court. Ultimately, airline crews have zero tolerance for any behavior on board that violates the law and victimizes any passengers. Flight attendants work hard to spot threats in the cabin, including human trafficking and illegal, threatening behavior.

But that’s not enough: two crucial changes are vital. First, passengers need to be both aware and intolerant of any such activity on board, never assuming that it is consensual. All incidents must be brought to the crew’s attention immediately.

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And second, airline marketing strategy needs to evolve (most have–but not all) from the sniggering throwback sexual innuendo to less risky, more proactive and twenty-first century intolerance for a potential felony masked as “intimacy.” If Richard Branson wants to encourage membership in “the mile high club,” he should advertise hotel rooms in Denver.

Sex on the plane? More than just indecency in a public seat or a filthy lav–although it is every bit of that–worse, it’s a real threat, with real victims: see it, report it, stop it. Anything less makes you part of the disaster.

 

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Malaysian 370: More Loss Ahead.

Posted in air travel, airline pilot blog, airliner, flight crew, Malaysian Air 370, Malaysian Airlines flight 370, MH 370 with tags , , , , , , , , , , on April 14, 2014 by Chris Manno

At least as important as finding the wreckage of Malaysian Flight 370 is uncovering the facts that caused the disaster. But based on the real-time performance of the Malaysian Aviation Ministry as it has unfolded since the jet disappeared, there’s little hope that the facts aren’t just a deeply buried and even less likely to be recovered than the missing jet, because of three cold, hard facts: politics, incompetence, and liability.

First, the political factors that mortgage the Malaysian investigation of this tragedy. Most of these center around the Malaysian Acting Minister of Aviation–a post left vacant since May of 2013–who is also the appointed Minister of Defense,  Hishammuddin bin Tun Hussein.

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Hussein’s official resume  lists neither aviation nor military experience or expertise, and his primary qualification to hold both titles appears to be largely that he is the son of Malaysia’s third prime minister, Tun Hussein Onn, and the nephew of Malaysia’s second prime minister, Tun Abdul Razak. He is seen as a likely successor to his cousin, Prime Minister Najib Razak.

Hussein has built a political career as the icon of nationalism predicated on race, and the symbolism of the native garb so prominently displayed during the initial phases of the MH 370 investigation are his trademark:

Hisham_Keris

The above photo was taken at a speech he gave at the 2005 United Malays National Organization, as Hussein waved the traditional Malay “keris” in a fiery call for Malay racial solidarity (his cousin, the present Prime Minister, is seen applauding in the background), earning him the derisive nicknames Hishammudin Tauke Keris (“The Keris Merchant”) or simply as Hishammudin Keris (“Hishammundin Keys”) in the Malaysian press. Hussein defended his usage of the keris, saying it was meant “to motivate the Malays” and that it “is here to stay,” denying that it was a symbol of Malay supremacy.

The early opportunity to politically brand the authoritative spotlight in official press conferences with the racial purity signature quickly gave way to more sensible and less political garb in subsequent press briefings, but both the intent and the liability were clearly set forth on day one of the investigation: politics will be at the forefront of the MH370 investigation.

Hussein has the dual political liability stemming from his two ministry titles, Defense and Aviation. First, given the fact that Malaysian military radar detected MH370’s rogue turn that penetrated Malaysian sovereign airspace without clearance–indicating a possible 9/11 threat to the nation–why weren’t Malaysian Air Defense Forces sent to intercept and investigate?

 

Had Hussein’s Defense Ministry handled this routine (in the west) airspace alert and scrambled interceptors, they would at least know where MH 370 was headed, and perhaps how and why. With Hussein directly in the political hierarchy topped by his cousin the Prime Minister, the military intercept fiasco has been downplayed by Hussein and his Ministry of Defense.

But even more liability accrues to Hussein in his responsibility as Minister of Aviation. The regulatory function of a national aviation agency must encompass inspections, compliance, licensing, and accident investigations.

 

In modern aviation regulatory practice, the accident investigative arm–the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) in the United States–operates independently from the regulatory, licensing and operations inspections agency, the FAA. This is fundamental to fair and objective accident investigation: the NTSB must not be subservient to the agency that is liable for the failures leading to an accident.

Not only does Hussein’s Malaysian Aviation Ministry not have such a vital separation between key branches, but in fact, most of the Malaysian aviation oversight structure remains unstaffed and vacant, as the Malaysian Ministry of Aviation’s own organizational chart clearly shows:

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Unfortunately for the entire world demanding unbiased and thorough investigation of the MH370 disappearance, this is where objectivity collides with liability–both political and financial–as well as incompetence: in a nation whose national airline operates state-of-the-art jetliners worldwide, the Safety and Compliance leadership positions are largely vacant? What does that say, in retrospect, about the competence of not only the regulatory function of the Malaysian Aviation Ministry, but also the air carriers certified–including the national flag carrier–regulated and inspected and certified by the Ministry of Aviation?

Further, what does the direct linkage to both the sitting Prime Minister and his heir apparent create in terms of political incentive to meter and constrain the flow of investigative facts while that nation’s credibility declines as the investigation is filled with, as Reuters described, “misinformation or conflicting reports” from the agency charged with both certifying competence and investigating  failures?

With no firewall between the agency liable for the regulatory failures and the investigative body responsible for discovering and reporting such faults, with the national leadership embedded through family relations in both the governance and the liability in both the MH370 disappearance and the ongoing investigation, what chance is there that the unvarnished truth will ever be discovered or divulged?

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Because even if the Digital Flight Data Recorder and the Cockpit Voice recorder are ever recovered–and that’s a hope that grows dimmer by the hour–the final authority over the data transcription will not be the aircraft manufacturer, nor the data units’ manufacturer, nor the NTSB.

In fact, the investigative findings and all supporting data belong to the Malaysian government–until and unless they elect to turn over the data and investigation to a third party. Given the political and personal stakes involved, the chances of a fair, factual and unbiased investigation seem as lost to the world as the jet itself.

Malaysia Plane

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