EFFORTPOST The Dramatic Tale of Aloha Airlines Flight 243 [Effort]

Yesterday I posted a photo of the aftermath of Aloha Airlines Flight 243, and it occured to me that most of you cursed zoomie whippersnappers probably had no idea of this highly dramatic tale of near death, actual death, and chad pilots. So without further ado, sit back and let tell you a tale of the friendly skies...

The Setting:

Hilo International Airport, April 28th, 1988. At around 1:25 PM a Boeing 737-297 departed for a quick jaunt to Honolulu, Oahu. Weather was good, visibility was solid, pre-flight inspection was passed, and the 35 minute flight from Hilo to Honolulu was routine. Essentially, everything was set-up for Aloha 243 to have a paint-by-numbers flight, with none of red flags you might expect from a disaster in the making. Even the flight crew was normal, being uniformly experienced, sober, and professional. If I asked you at this point to speculate what would or could go wrong, you'd be hard pressed to guess right.

The only sign of impending disaster would appear in retrospect—when passenger Gayle Yamamoto testified she noticed a crack in the fuselage upon boarding but...didn't tell anyone.

Dramatis Persona:

Crew:

Captain Robert Schornstheimer had over 8,500 flight hours, and first office Mimi Tompkins had 8,000 as well. Both were particularly experienced with 737s—a fact that would prove vital. Other support crew, such as flight attendants, were also old hands. Chief Stewardess Clarabelle Lansing, for example, was flying with 37 years of experience. Stewardesses Michelle Honda and Jane Sato Tamita had 14 and 17 years experience respectively. In total, there were 5 very capable crew on boards.

Due to the quick nature of the route, this would their ninth flight of the day.

Passengers:

There were 90 total passengers traveling. Aloha Airlines specialized in short, frequent flights between the islands, and passengers would have been a mix of local commuters and tourists. Regular people, many of whom had likely taken this exact route many times.

Shit Gets Real

After a routine take-off, Aloha 243 began climbing to the cruising altitude of 24,000 feet. First Office Tompkins was at the controls with Captain Schornstheimer working the radio, and again, all seemed routine. Because the the short nature of the flight, the stewardesses didn't wait to reach cruising to begin drink services. Instead they began walking around the cabin, handing out refreshments, while passengers remained strapped in their seats. This would place them in a unique disadvantage when a crack was heard 20 minutes into the flight, just as cruising altitude was reached.

And by crack, I mean an ear-splitting, terror inducing rip as a 35 square-foot portion of the plane's fuselage violently ripped away. In other words, one second the plane was intact. The next, an entire section of the front passenger cabin roof just...wasn't there anymore.

The most immediate effect was tragically predictable: Objects were sucked out of the plane, followed by human beings. Chief Stewardess Lansing, who has the misfortunate to be working the front section of the plane, was immediately sucked out to her death. Her body was never recovered.

RIP

Stewardess Sato Tamita was also working the front, but was struck downwards by debris. She thus miraculously avoided Lansing's fate, managing to crawl her way towards the back of the plane before going mostly unconscious from injury—a passenger would go on to hold her hand for the duration of the flight. The final unbuckled person on board, Stewardess Honda, was in row 15. While she was also injured by debris, her distance from the front allowed her survival and continued action.

Meanwhile, Pilots Tompkins and Schornstheimer put on their oxygen masks, and looking backwards from their seats at the controls could see...blue skies. So could passengers in the first five rows of the plane, who were now flying completely exposed to the air on both sides, with only aged seatbelts keeping them from meeting Lansing's fate over the Pacific. Aisle passengers in these front rows reported clinging to seat-mates in window seats to keep them from falling to their deaths. Besides being exposed to the air, passengers had also been seriously injured by debris, and were being subjected to intense -50F temperatures and 300 mph winds. And oh yeah, the tubing that fed oxygen into the passenger masks had been ripped out, so people were starting to pass out from lack of air. It was not an ideal situation.

Getting Control of the Plane

With passengers at risk of hypoxia, freezing, or just flat out falling to their deaths, the pilots somehow needed to make an immediate emergency landing with a partial roof, and without knowledge of what systems might have been damaged.

The more experienced Schornstheimer took control from Tompkins, with his first order of business to lower the altitude before lack of oxygen started killing his passengers off. Unable to waste time, he dropped altitude fast, scaring the crap out of everyone on board, but saving lives in the process. It did not help the sense of terror that passengers could see the floor begin the buckle, as the pilot's section of the craft—again, connected only by the flooring—started bending away the rest of the craft.

With the pilot's section bending away, and a terrifying descent ensuing, the remaining passengers and crew draw the conclusion the pilots were likely dead. Instead of securing herself in a seat, Stewardess Honda crawled her way through the plane, trying to locate a replacement pilot among the men and women on board. She was unsuccessful, but gets serious chadette points for keeping her head enough to try and find help despite her injury and the dire circumstances—as well as for getting many passengers into the brace positions and flotation vests.

Meanwhile, the pilots were trying communicate with air traffic control and organize an emergency landing. I say trying, because Honolulu wasn't answering.

Thankfully, Kahului Airpot was.

Emergency Landing

Kahului Airport is on the island of Maui. It had the advantage of being close—just five minutes away—and of air control picking up. But is also had the disadvantage of needing to fly between two mountains to land at, aided by controls that might or or might not be working. The landing also required subjecting a plane to already on the verge of falling apart to stressful turns. Fun!

Kahului was also less equipped for a mass emergency, but ATC staff never-the-less immediately acted like professionals. They cleared the runway, contacted any emergency services they could find, and tried to keep in contact. Again, tried being the operative word, because after alerting Kahului to their predicament, radio contact came and went unreliably.

The pilot pushed the remains of the plane to its max, making the necessary turns to land while controls failed. Terrifyingly, one of the indicated failures was of the nose gear, meaning that the plane might be landing without front wheels—which, if true, would almost certainly cause the fragile craft to break apart upon landing and trigger an explosion. But lacking any choice, Schornstheimer decided to attempt a landing anyway and just hope the indicator was wrong.

Miraculously, his gamble paid off—the indicator was wrong. The front wheels descended, and Schornstheimer somehow managed to land the plane, keep the plane intact, and not eject any passengers in the process. How the frick this is possible is known only to

As a direct result of Schornstheimer incredible flying and Thompson's excellent support, Aloha 243 landed with some seriously injured passengers, but no casualties beyond Chief Stewardess Lansing.

Seriously, seriously behavior on behalf of the crew to make that incredible outcome remotely possible.

Why TF Did This Happened

Fatigue.

At the time of the accident, Aloha 243 had flown 89,000 total flights—only one other 737 in the world had flown more. The multiple short flights the plane was subjected to in a day meant that while it hadn't necessarily spent more time in the air that other craft, it had certainly endured more pressure stress from frequent take-off and landings. Plus, operating in Hawaii meant there was constant exposure to corrosive sea air. Add to that the fact the plane had only been designed to handle 75,000 flights—meaning it was 14,000 flights over its expected total lifespan—and it becomes a less a question of 'how did this happen' and more 'how did this not happen sooner?'

Who was responsible for failing to catch this fatigue—whether Aloha Airlines, spotty FAA rules, or Boeing—would become a matter of finger pointing. But ultimately, the important thing is that it triggered reforms in maintenance standards and how planes are monitored for aging, making flying safer for us all. This is one of those accidents that changed regulations for the better and you've likely benefited from, even if you've never heard of it before.

And that, dramatards, is the dramatic tale of Aloha Flight 243. Fly safe!