On a stormy October night in 1999, an American Airlines passenger jet was on approach at Little Rock airport, and it was bad.
“Go around max thrust nine,” the captain, Ron Walker, first instructed his co-captain.
For Ron, flying this leg of the flight, it had been a long day, and this go-around maneuver is difficult, even in good weather with both pilots doing their jobs.
The thunderstorm was four miles off the approach end of runway 4 right, and the controller had turned the plane in the right direction. The turbulence was so intense that the instrument panel appeared fuzzy. The plane was in low thick clouds with zero visibility, and heading for the same runway and similar weather conditions involving an American Airlines MD crash earlier in the year.
You have to stop in Little Rock for fuel,” the dispatcher said on the radio.
“We just flew over Little Rock, man,” Ron replied “There’s a thunderstorm in progress very near the airport.”
Talk about a tough spot. And there was something else to be considered.
Ron was an alcoholic.
He hadn’t had a drink in years, and he was rock solid AA, but still…
In this tough spot Ron even asked himself, “Had I burned out one too many brain cells? Had I taken one too many hits of acid in the seventies? Was I truly recovered from my affliction (alcoholism) or was I going to succumb to vertigo and lose control.”
Discipline and training enable a pilot to overcome this disorientation by ignoring the physical sensations of climbing, descending or turning and focusing on the instruments. The instruments don’t lie. They must be obeyed, and that’s what guided Ron.
Landing long (beyond the touchdown zone on the runway) was not advisable. With the tailwind, they would be landing fast, so they needed the entire runway. Missing the approach and going around was not an option either. They were just about out of gas.
They were going in one way or another, and Ron could just barely see his instruments because of the violent shaking of the airplane.
At two hundred feet above the ground, if you don’t see the runway you are required to end the approach and go around and try again.
Suddenly, the airspeed dropped twenty knots. Airspeed is what keeps a plane airborne. Any further loss of airspeed would have been disastrous. Ron increased thrust to keep the plane flying but they were traveling much too fast to make a safe landing even if they did manage to find the runway.
They say, Ron said, “that just before you die, your life flashes before you. My thoughts were focused on flying the airplane, but some thoughts of my past crept into my consciousness.
“Had I burnt one too many brain cells? Had I taken one too many hits of acid. Was I truly recovered from my affliction (alcoholism) or was I going to succumb to vertigo and lose control? Spatial disorientation (vertigo) is fatal on a difficult instrument landing.”
Discipline and training enable a pilot to overcome disorientation by ignoring the physical sensations of climbing, descending or turning and focusing on the instruments. The instruments don’t lie (hopefully under all conditions). They must be obeyed.
“When we hit,” Ron said, “our groundspeed was one hundred seventy knots. One hundred twenty five is standard. The nose of the plane was still flying and it was all I could to to keep it from trying to fly back up off the runway.
“I pushed the nose over, and with a bang and a sudden jolt we were rolling town the center of runway 22 extremely fast.
“Two thirds of the way down the runway we hit the gust front of the storm. The rain and wind caused some unearthly noises in the cockpit. On the ground you steer the airplane with your feet until it slows to a safe speed and then you use a small steering tiller.
“The lights of the runway were going by in a blur, but we were still on the pavement. At the thousand feet remaining marker, we were still on the pavement. I was in full reverse thrust now and standing on the brakes.”
After the landing, the passengers departed into the night, relieved and perhaps not fully aware of the peril that had threatened in the hands of a pilot who was a recovering alcoholic. And a darned good pilot.
At one time, Ron’s alcoholism was close to legendary, but his last stop at BridgeWay Hospital many years ago did the trick.
BridgeWay
“The circumstances that led to my last rehab are very similar to those of previous attempts,” Ron begins. “I was broke, in bad health and facing some legal charges. My attorney reached out to me in a personal way. It was clear to him that my troubles were all related to my addiction, and he offered to get all legal proceedings delayed until after rehab. I, in turn, reached out to an old friend who was in AA and related to him the attorney’s opinion. He agreed that rehab was the best option.
“I remember spending my last five dollars on beer. It was a six pack of ice cold Miller. When my friend, Lew, arrived to take me to rehab, I was quite a sight. I came stumbling out of my cheap hotel room with my beer in one hand and a plastic garbage bag in the other. The bag contained all of my worldly possessions.
“On day five at the BridgeWay, they guided me gently into group therapy. The group thought I was flakey and seemed to distrust me. I was flakey. My thoughts and moods changed rapidly. My words did not make sentences. It was as if my mind was not connected to my mouth. When I would try to communicate a thought it would be gone before I could complete it out loud.
“This was quite frustrating. I began to get angry. Actually I had been angry for twenty years, but now I knew I was angry. The group became more distant. I became more resentful.
But one day at BridgeWay it turned around for Ron, and he never drank or used again. He moved to Colorado, and comes back to Little Rock every so often. I saw him at the Little Rock Athletic Club a year ago. He’s doing great.
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