Irony: NWA pilots land late because of scheduling discussion

by Tom Johansmeyer on

The investigation into the overshooting Northwest Airlines flight continues. The National Transportation Safety Board has found that the pilots were distracted by conversations and the use of personal laptops when flying 150 miles past Minneapolis. One of the topics being bandied about was scheduling, though I suspect it didn’t involve the impact of a late arrival because of a missed airport.

According to the NTSB, “The pilots said there was a concentrated period of discussion where they did not monitor the airplane or calls from (air traffic controllers) even though both stated they heard conversation on the radio.” In the report generated by its investigation, the NTSB continued, “Both said they lost track of time.” Meanwhile air traffic controllers and airline dispatchers were trying to contact Flight 188 for more than an hour. Neither pilot realized something was amiss until they were asked about it by a flight attendant.

Delta was pretty quick to announce that the pilots were involved in activities not related to flying and that they could be fired for it. For now, the fliers are suspended pending the results of the government’s investigation (and one by the airline itself).

Plane Answers: “Chit-chat” did NOT doom Colgan flight 3407

by Kent Wien on

Welcome to Gadling’s feature, Plane Answers, where our resident airline pilot, Kent Wien, answers your questions about everything from takeoff to touchdown and beyond. Have a question of your own? Ask away!

Allow me to invoke some commentary in lieu of today’s usual Plane Answers post.

So much has been written about the Colgan Dash 8 accident in Buffalo, NY. As I’ve written before in a “Pilots are either Heroes or Villains” post, I am a reluctant commenter during accident investigations. But the NTSB has released a tremendous amount of information already and I feel the need to shed some light on what the Colgan pilots may have been dealing with before the tragic accident.

We’ve heard that the captain reacted incorrectly by pulling up instead of pushing forward, that he didn’t have much experience in the Dash 8 Q400, that he and the first officer were discussing non-essential topics during the sterile period and that the captain had flunked a number of checkrides while learning to fly. We also heard about their long commute before work and the lack of sleep each pilot had before the trip.

But how much did these facts play a part in the accident? We’ll never know exactly what each pilot was thinking, but when you combine the transcripts with the NTSB recreation, a picture emerges that’s a little more complicated than what’s being reported.

According to the transcripts, the flight from Newark was completely normal until the start of the approach. Checklists were accomplished, altimeters were set, approach briefings were done. There was a fair amount of conversation, but this was mainly while above 10,000 feet. There may have been discussions with their company about where the aircraft would park after landing, but it’s hard for me to determine if this was before or after they flew below 10,000 feet.

The press latched on to the ‘chit-chat’ these pilots were having before the accident. The cockpit voice recorder was installed years ago as a safety device, but it’s sadly being used to satisfy the morbid curiosity of the public. Do we really need to hear the conversations that took place on the ground in Newark before this flight?

Much of that talking while approaching Buffalo revolved around icing and their prior experience in ice. In the last four minutes before the captain asked for the gear to be put down, there was only a single, three-sentence statement made by the captain in response to the co-pilot’s concern with her lack of icing experience.

The Approach

After that, nothing was said for the next two minutes, until the chain of events that would cause this accident would begin.
“Gear down.” The captain called.

The co-pilot responded by lowering the gear and pushing two knobs called condition levers forward. Just two seconds later, the approach controller told her to contact the tower. The co-pilot immediately looked down to change to the tower frequency, while acknowledging the controller. After she had spun some dials to enter the tower frequency in the VHF control panel, she looked at the gear handle to call out that it had extended completely-that it was now down and locked.

Two seconds later, the captain called for the flaps to be lowered to 15 degrees. Before even having a chance to look up and check on the flight’s progress she needed to move the flap handle from 5 to 15 degrees.

In the 22 seconds that it took for the co-pilot to put the gear down, push the condition levers forward, change the frequency, verify the landing gear position and select flaps 15, the airplane had slowed from 180 knots to 133 knots and the stall warning system activated.

She was relying on the captain to fly the airplane or, in this case, monitor the autopilot, while she performed her non-flying pilot duties. Every pilot has been in this situation before, where rapid-fire actions can take the non-flying pilot’s attention away. But usually being out of the loop for twenty seconds isn’t enough to cause a problem. Up to this point, she had done everything right.

Now let’s think about what the captain may have been dealing with:

He was in level flight at 2,300 feet with the flaps set to five degrees. He may have been tired, and so he likely felt like letting the autopilot take care of intercepting the final approach course. The autopilot was holding the altitude and heading and since the Dash 8 Q400 doesn’t have any autothrottles, he was manually setting the power to the proper setting to maintain a speed of about 180 knots.

At one point, the speed picked up to 186 knots. He pulled the power back slightly to let it settle at 180 knots which took about 6 seconds.

A few seconds later he called for the gear to come down. The co-pilot brought the gear down and pushed the condition levers forward. The condition levers essentially control the pitch of the propellors. Pushing them forward drives the prop blades to a finer pitch, resulting in a higher prop RPM, but also more drag. These levers are procedurally moved forward so maximum thrust is available in the case of a missed approach. So putting the gear down and the condition levers are two actions that will result in a significant amount of drag.

But somehow, the captain was distracted. He had just pulled the power back prior to calling for the gear to come down. He didn’t touch the throttles for the next 27 seconds, which means there was no way he had glanced at his airspeed for that half-minute. He could have been checking to see if there was any more ice accumulating or glancing at his approach plate.

The point is, he had become distracted and the co-pilot was out of the loop while she accomplished her required duties. The motion of the gear coming down and the condition levers coming forward meant that there was little time to react with the throttles.

This wasn’t the first time a pilot failed to notice a loss of airspeed while on approach. In fact, less than two weeks later another accident occurred while flying an approach on autopilot. Turkish flight 1951 which crashed short of the runway in Amsterdam was equipped with an autothrottle system, but it had failed at 1950 feet, when it reduced the power to idle slowly without the crew noticing.

In an age when the flying public seeks comfort by thinking airplanes just land themselves, it appears that a reliance on automation may have led to two separate accidents in the month of February alone. Autopilot use is generally encouraged by many airlines as a way to reduce a pilot’s workload.

But I’m certain that if the autopilot had been off in either accident, the pilots would have found it difficult to maintain altitude as the airplane slowed, which would have made it immediately obvious that more power was needed.

In both of these cases the autopilot masked this, making it easier to become distracted.

The Stall

When the stick shaker activated on Colgan flight 3407, the autopilot turned off automatically. Somehow the captain let the nose of the airplane reach nearly 30 degrees, and even though he correctly responded with full power, it wasn’t going to prevent the continued loss of airspeed as long as he had the nose pointed up between 20 and 30 degrees.

The co-pilot had been thinking about ice for the last half of the trip because of the build-up she had seen earlier, and this might have been going through her mind as she heard the stick shaker activate at the exact moment she was moving the flap handle from 5 degrees to 15. She very well may have associated her flap selection with the stick shaker, and if a movement in the flight controls results in something going wrong, I could see most pilots tempted to move the flap handle back where it was before the problem began (in this case, back up).

This is exactly what she did, which made the recovery much more difficult for the captain, since an extra 20 or 25 knots would be needed to fly at the reduced flap settings. Bringing the flaps up is also a recovery technique in high-wing turboprops that encounter enough ice to stall the tail. So this may be further proof that she was convinced tail-icing was their problem.

The captain may have also thought tail icing was his problem and the reason the nose wanted to drop, completely misreading what the ‘stick pusher’ was trying to tell him. Reports have indicated that the captain had watched the NASA video on tailplane icing recoveries during training just a few months earlier. This is a video which will definitely leave a lasting impression on any pilot.

Considering the lack of sleep both pilots had, it’s easy to come up with a scenario where a misdiagnosis of the problem–deciding between a tailplane stall or traditional stall–led to the accident.

The Aftermath

Non-essential chatter wasn’t a factor in this accident since the pilots had been quiet for more than two minutes prior to the airplane slowing. The NTSB will likely look at the training these pilots had received and how fatigue may have played a role in the accident.

It’s been verified that a lack of sleep can be equivalent to drinking while on the job, so the NTSB will likely factor this into their final report. And perhaps some attention will be given to the audible alerts pilots receive with specific attention given to how accurately they’re interpreted and how long the reaction time is with various warnings.

The airplane manufacturers may determine that a warning prior to the stick shaker is warranted. A “caution, too slow!” warning may be all that’s needed.

But first, training and procedures need to be considered to avoid this scenario. A great deal of time is spent during recurrent training on FAA mandated scenarios and emergencies that become repetitive. A program that introduces an even wider range of failures and scenarios in the simulator might be a better way to prepare pilots.

The NTSB will also likely criticize the turnover that has resulted from commuter airlines that see themselves as a stepping stone to the majors. An airline that decides $16,000 a year is an acceptable salary for a pilot might have to rethink their strategy as the flying public recognizes the need to continue to attract the best pilots possible.

This accident could become a catalyst for a number of changes that have been needed for a while. Proper crew rest, adequate training, and upgraded safety warnings could be around the corner. Let’s hope so.

Do you have a question about something related to the pointy end of an airplane? Ask Kent and maybe he’ll use it for next Monday’s Plane Answers. Check out his other blog, Cockpit Chronicles and travel along with him at work.

UPDATE: Inside the Dirtiest Hotel in the United States

by Mike Barish on

Two weeks ago, I told you about TripAdvisor’s list of the Dirtiest Hotels in the United States. And this morning I broke the news that I was going to be giving you a firsthand look at the dirtiest hotel of all, the Hotel Carter. Well, that’s exactly what I intend do to. So wash your hands, grab some Purell, and don’t touch anything, because we’re going inside the Dirtiest Hotel in the United States.

Located on 43rd Street and Eighth Avenue in New York City, the Hotel Carter is, technically, in a great location for tourists who want to visit Times Square and be close to the Theater District. However, it’s also close to the Port Authority and the surrounding area that is known for dive bars, strip clubs and general seediness. In fact, right next door to the Hotel Carter is Cheetahs, which boasts that it is a gentlemen’s club, steakhouse and sushi bar. I guess that would explain the fishy smell.

Walking into the lobby, I was greeted by two doormen who immediately asked to see my room key. When I alerted them that I was checking in, one of the gentleman insisted on escorting me to the front desk. No unregistered guests would be getting into the Hotel Carter, which foiled my plans of having fellow Gadling blogger Jeremy Kressmann and some other friends come over to lend moral support. I checked in at the front desk with two inches of Plexiglas between the desk clerk and me. I slid my reservation confirmation, ID and credit card through the small slit and couldn’t help but wonder if I was in a hotel or a pawn shop. I confirmed with the clerk that no visitors were permitted, so it was clear that I would be on my own.

The lobby is surprisingly huge and well-staffed. There were employees there to help guests make travel arrangements, a gentleman sitting at the “Handicapped Check-In” desk and several other staff members milling about. I got into the elevator and headed to the eighth floor to see what the Hotel Carter’s “single room” had in store for me. For $89 (in New York City), I had low expectations.

Arriving at the lobby, I noticed that the hallway was incredibly depressing. It’s dimly lit, hideously carpeted and way too much of a reminder of The Shining. Had those creepy twins showed up asking me to play with them I would not have been surprised. I would have wet myself, but I would not have been surprised. The carpet was weathered and worn. There was an exposed light bulb on the ceiling. It wasn’t filthy. It was just sad. It began to dawn on me that the Hotel Carter may be the place where dreams go to die.

I found room 812 and was perplexed to find that there was a screen at the top of the door that allowed light and sound to come through. Undeterred, I swiped my key card and entered the room. What I found wasn’t that shocking. It was moribund but it was not shocking. There was a barren and stark room with no artwork, no stylistic flourishes and no personality. Just a king-sized bed, a 19″ television and a solitary chair in the corner. It looked like a room in a psychiatric ward of a hospital. But it didn’t look dirty. It just looked sorrowful.

I was not alone in the Hotel Carter. I know this not only because I saw other guests in the lobby and hallways but because I heard each and every one of them. I heard the people in the hallways. I heard my next door neighbors. I heard my upstairs neighbors. Noise-proofing has clearly never been a priority of the Hotel Carter’s management.

I set to work on learning all I could about the cleanliness of the room. The commenters on TripAdvisor had shared tales of soiled sheets, roaches, mice, bed bugs and much more. Thankfully, I came prepared with my homemade hazmat suit and a UV light. If there were animals or bodily fluids in room 812 of the Hotel Carter, I was going to find them.

I started my investigation with the bed and ran the UV light over the bedspread, sheets and pillows. Remarkably, I saw nothing. No spots, streaks or stains. Undeterred, I pulled the sheets back to see if anyone had left any pubic hairs behind. Again, however, there was nothing to see but white, low thread count sheets. The bed appeared to be clean. I sat down. I laid down. I found the problem with the bed. It was the most uncomfortable mattress ever. Is that a crime against humanity? Absolutely not. Can you sometimes not see bed bugs? I think so. I got up and felt relieved that I had my coveralls on.

I got down on the floor and took a look under the bed. I scanned it with the UV light. I saw nothing. If there was ever a corpse underneath the bed, the carpet has since been replaced.

I decided to move on to the bathroom. Surely it couldn’t be as clean as the bed. While it wasn’t the nightmare that TripAdvisor commenters described, it also wasn’t clean. There was a large brown stain on the floor next to some crusty brown spots. A sweep with the UV light revealed traces of other nefarious liquids that had, at some time, found their way to the tile floor. Above the mirror and the oddly placed toilet paper and towel rack was a dirty vent that seemed to trap all the dust and other particles so that you can savor them. The tub was not much better, as there was a tremendous amount of discoloration on the tiles and grout. I ran the faucets in the sink and the shower. The water ran clear in both but the grimy tile walls of the shower made me feel as if no amount of bathing in that stall could result in cleanliness. Would I go barefoot in this bathroom? Not without getting my tetanus booster.

I ran my gloves over the dresser/nightstand but couldn’t find any dust. What I also couldn’t find were the handles to two of the dresser drawers. They had been removed (or stolen) and not replaced. The two drawers that I could access were empty. No Gideon Bible. No Hotel Carter notepad. No rat feces.

I scanned the floor with the UV light to see how the carpet was holding up. Not surprisingly, there were several spots that showed themselves under the scrutiny of the black light. The highest concentrations were around the bed and outside the bathroom door. Where the walls and floor met, the trim didn’t sit flush on the floor and there were signs of filth. Around this time I was starting to feel uncomfortable having the room light turned off and was feeling a bit claustrophobic.

Needing to feel less confined, I decided to open the curtain. That didn’t help. My view was the other building that was less than two feet away. In fairness, that’s not entirely uncommon in Manhattan. But at the time I found myself pretty disappointed. I needed to see signs of life and I didn’t want to see them inside the room.

The room felt musty. My hazmat suit was not particularly breathable (I blame the shower cap) and I was beginning to feel exhausted. I needed to sleep. I stared at the bed. It appeared clean. It passed the UV test. But in my head, the TripAdvisor comments about bed bugs terrified me. I’d get bites all over my body. I’d bring them home with me and get them in my apartment. I’d have to send all my clothes and linens out to be cleaned while my apartment was subjected to a bug bomb. The thoughts raced through my mind and psyched me out. I couldn’t sleep here.

It was pushing midnight. I packed up my gear, took one more look around at the room filled with nothing but signs of loneliness and shut off the light. I walked down the depressing hallway one last time and tried to think of what this hotel must have seen over the years. The room seemed like the perfect place to commit suicide. I have too much to live for. I had to leave.

The elevator arrived at the lobby, which was still filled with several employees. I dropped my key card in the check out box and noticed the quizzical looks that everyone gave me. They didn’t understand why I was checking out without spending the night. I couldn’t have used the room for a hooker. Their strict “no guests” policy (and my aversion to venereal diseases) assured that. I decided to let them remain perplexed. I figured that I probably wasn’t the first person to use the Hotel Carter for a few hours and then leave mysteriously in the middle of the night. Besides, they’d find the packaging that came with my coveralls and rubber gloves and draw their own conclusions.

So, is the Hotel Carter the dirtiest hotel in the United States? Not from what I could see. It’s unkempt. It needs major renovations including new paint, carpeting, and lighting in both the rooms and the hallways. The bathroom tiles need to be completely replaced along with the vents. But overall, it’s just not that disgusting.

However, it is the single most depressing hotel I have ever been in. In fact, it may be the bleakest place I have ever been. Period. The whole environment is joyless. The wan lighting wears on you after a while. It just makes you sad. The uninterrupted white walls offer no stimuli to keep your mind focused on anything other than the sadness of the room. If there was a sequel to The Shining about a hotel that made you despondent instead of insane, it would be filmed at the Hotel Carter.

All in all, I would not recommend the Hotel Carter. It’s just too miserable. I truly believe that every time someone checks into the Hotel Carter a unicorn dies. And I love unicorns.

Check out my Hotel Carter Gallery below while I take a shower and try to find a reason to smile again.