Being a pilot is often seen as a prestigious career. But earning that title takes more than just a love of flying—it requires significant financial investment, years of training, strict physical standards, and the ability to handle immense stress. After all, pilots carry the responsibility of hundreds of lives every time they take off.
Yet, separated by the cockpit door, passengers rarely have any idea what’s happening on the other side. That’s why pilots on Reddit decided to share some of the most terrifying situations they’ve faced in the air and how they managed to push through them. Scroll down to read their stories and upvote the most gripping ones.
#1
Vegas, baby! In my own private plane! Could there be anything cooler?
I'd just recently gotten my Private Pilot License and, just a few weeks before, had bought my first airplane. I’d already gotten 10 hours of dual instruction in my new craft, but my insurance also required me to fly 10 hours solo before carrying any passengers. I planned some short trips on my own, the last of which was to Vegas and back. It’s not a fun city without friends, so I hadn’t planned to stay -- just fly up, get a bite to eat at the airport, and fly home.
My plan was to land at Las Vegas International which lies at the center of a mass of what's called Class B airspace. Learning to fly around LAX, I’d gained plenty of experience flying near this kind of busy and restrictive airspace … but into it? Not as much. I reviewed the charts and mentally prepared to tangle with complex and unfamiliar airspace and its controllers.
It was a sweltering Saturday afternoon. The weather was perfect, but the instructors standing around the flight school had a concern.
“Make sure you’re hydrated before you go up there,” one said. The route from LA to Vegas goes through the Mojave Desert. “You don’t want to get light-headed or pass out while you’re flying! And make sure you have extra water in case you go down.”
Wise advice, it seemed. I drank a bottle of water. Then downed a second just to be sure. For good measure, I also filled a sport bottle with ice water and stuffed it into my flight bag. I lifted off from Santa Monica and pointed the plane towards the mountain pass to Palmdale. The plane was operating beautifully -- let me tell you, there’s almost nothing that beats flying 165 m.p.h over a highway while the cars underneath you are stuck in traffic. I settled in at 7,500’ for the 90 minute flight. Vegas, baby!
As I reached the desert I realized a slight flaw in my flight planning. All that water was having the obvious effect. I had to pee. *It’s not that bad,* I told myself. *This can wait. I’m only an hour away from landing.* Vegas!!
Over the next ten minutes my body informed me, no, this wouldn't wait an hour. I tried to focus on the sectional chart but my mind kept wandering to Niagra Falls and the giant Bellagio fountain. I’d be tangling with Bravo airspace soon but couldn’t even think straight!
OK, I thought. What are my options? I looked down and found the only one: my sport bottle. Step 1 was to empty it. The only place to do that seemed to be into my stomach. Have you ever tried throwing back a pint of ice water at a time when your bladder feels one turbulent bump away from rupturing? It’s not easy! I finally managed to do it, feeling like an overfilled water balloon.
All right. Almost there. Now for Step 2: refill the bottle. The air was smooth and the radio was quiet. I might just be able to get away with this!
I carefully trimmed the plane until it flew straight and level without control inputs. I took my hands off the controls tentatively -- nothing seemed to happen. *All right, J., you can do this.* I opened the bottle, ever-so-carefully unzipped and got myself into it. The relief that followed was indescribable. Euphoria!
Relief quickly turned to panic. The bottle seemed to be filling at an alarming rate. Was it possible that my bladder actually had a larger capacity than this bottle? I really didn’t want to find out empirically. I’d owned this plane for 3 weeks and I sure wasn’t going to let my own pee geyser erupt from this bottle all over my upholstery!
Alas, the bottle was opaque. I willed myself to stop peeing, pulled myself out and peeked in the bottle to check how much space was left. This cycle repeated several times, one hand holding the bottle and the other holding myself to prevent pee from spraying everywhere like a loose firehose. I had no hands free to fly the plane. The situation was … let's just say: delicate.
The third time through this dance I realized something alarming: my gonads were cold. Oh no! Cold gonads must mean there was a fluid leak. C**p!
Then I noticed something else: a hiss. *Ssssssss.......* What was that? I realized I was cold because of air, not liquid. Where was this airflow coming from?
A moment later, this question was answered. *SssssssssssssPOP.* The latch had not been secure. My door popped open!
Oh. Holy. H**l.
My indicated airspeed was about 120 m.p.h. and turbulent air raced past the door. It was also the first moment in my life I remember being afraid of heights. I sat for a moment, dumbfounded. My heart raced. Both hands were still occupied holding my bottle and my junk. What the h**l do I do!?
*Don’t panic*, my instructor Gary’s words echoed through my head. *The plane still flies fine with the door open.*
Oh god. Ok. Let’s figure this out. First thing’s first: I decided that this was not an emergency. Flailing around would make it one -- let’s avoid that. The only thing that would make this an emergency, I reasoned, would be if I somehow fell out of the plane. I used my non-bottle hand to verify my seatbelt was secure. I also checked behind me to make sure there was nothing loose in the back seat that might depart the aircraft.
All right. I decided I was safe. What next? I needed both hands to close and latch the door. My hands, however, were occupied with Operation PeePlosion. So, I reasoned, the correct next step was to finish peeing. I would look back later and see this as having been my first major executive decision as a pilot-in-command. With wind whooshing past, I filled the remaining third of the bottle, sealed it up, and set it on the floor like a boss.
Finally, with both hands now free, I tried to close the door -- no luck. The wind was too strong. I throttled back, slowed the plane down to about 75, and was able to slam and latch it at last.
I made my way into Las Vegas, landing on runway 19R and shutting down in front of the executive terminal where all the fancy private jets land. I grabbed the bottle and hopped out of the plane to use an actual restroom and find some food.
I took 20 steps and froze: it was Las Vegas. It was a Saturday afternoon. Playboys and party girls were descending on the city. There were two private jets parked in front of me; they literally had red carpets running out to them. Fashionable men were emerging from the aircraft with women on their arms -- blonde, leggy women in skin-tight clubbing dresses and immaculate makeup. They were ready for a night on the town. I was standing there in a ratty t-shirt, unshaven, and holding a warm bottle of my own p**s.
I couldn’t do it. I turned back. I found a quiet spot on the tarmac near my tie-down and emptied the bottle onto the ground. I hoped it would be discrete, but …. I guess I hadn’t had enough to drink after all. The pee was a radioactive shade of yellow.
“Well, at least this can’t get any *more* embarrassing,” I thought to myself.
Wrong.
“CLEAR!” Someone parked in the next row started up their turboprop. The propwash started to propel my giant ocean of shame downwind, spreading it out over the tarmac and spraying warm pee all over me and my plane.
I looked up to see a lineman giving me a icy glare. He shook his head sadly and drove off.
I returned to Vegas a couple of weeks later. It doesn’t rain there very often so the ramp was still stained yellow. I hope it's gone by now, but if you're ever there and see a yellow patch, raise a sport bottle and toast the day I learned how to keep my cool.
I'd just recently gotten my Private Pilot License and, just a few weeks before, had bought my first airplane. I’d already gotten 10 hours of dual instruction in my new craft, but my insurance also required me to fly 10 hours solo before carrying any passengers. I planned some short trips on my own, the last of which was to Vegas and back. It’s not a fun city without friends, so I hadn’t planned to stay -- just fly up, get a bite to eat at the airport, and fly home.
My plan was to land at Las Vegas International which lies at the center of a mass of what's called Class B airspace. Learning to fly around LAX, I’d gained plenty of experience flying near this kind of busy and restrictive airspace … but into it? Not as much. I reviewed the charts and mentally prepared to tangle with complex and unfamiliar airspace and its controllers.
It was a sweltering Saturday afternoon. The weather was perfect, but the instructors standing around the flight school had a concern.
“Make sure you’re hydrated before you go up there,” one said. The route from LA to Vegas goes through the Mojave Desert. “You don’t want to get light-headed or pass out while you’re flying! And make sure you have extra water in case you go down.”
Wise advice, it seemed. I drank a bottle of water. Then downed a second just to be sure. For good measure, I also filled a sport bottle with ice water and stuffed it into my flight bag. I lifted off from Santa Monica and pointed the plane towards the mountain pass to Palmdale. The plane was operating beautifully -- let me tell you, there’s almost nothing that beats flying 165 m.p.h over a highway while the cars underneath you are stuck in traffic. I settled in at 7,500’ for the 90 minute flight. Vegas, baby!
As I reached the desert I realized a slight flaw in my flight planning. All that water was having the obvious effect. I had to pee. *It’s not that bad,* I told myself. *This can wait. I’m only an hour away from landing.* Vegas!!
Over the next ten minutes my body informed me, no, this wouldn't wait an hour. I tried to focus on the sectional chart but my mind kept wandering to Niagra Falls and the giant Bellagio fountain. I’d be tangling with Bravo airspace soon but couldn’t even think straight!
OK, I thought. What are my options? I looked down and found the only one: my sport bottle. Step 1 was to empty it. The only place to do that seemed to be into my stomach. Have you ever tried throwing back a pint of ice water at a time when your bladder feels one turbulent bump away from rupturing? It’s not easy! I finally managed to do it, feeling like an overfilled water balloon.
All right. Almost there. Now for Step 2: refill the bottle. The air was smooth and the radio was quiet. I might just be able to get away with this!
I carefully trimmed the plane until it flew straight and level without control inputs. I took my hands off the controls tentatively -- nothing seemed to happen. *All right, J., you can do this.* I opened the bottle, ever-so-carefully unzipped and got myself into it. The relief that followed was indescribable. Euphoria!
Relief quickly turned to panic. The bottle seemed to be filling at an alarming rate. Was it possible that my bladder actually had a larger capacity than this bottle? I really didn’t want to find out empirically. I’d owned this plane for 3 weeks and I sure wasn’t going to let my own pee geyser erupt from this bottle all over my upholstery!
Alas, the bottle was opaque. I willed myself to stop peeing, pulled myself out and peeked in the bottle to check how much space was left. This cycle repeated several times, one hand holding the bottle and the other holding myself to prevent pee from spraying everywhere like a loose firehose. I had no hands free to fly the plane. The situation was … let's just say: delicate.
The third time through this dance I realized something alarming: my gonads were cold. Oh no! Cold gonads must mean there was a fluid leak. C**p!
Then I noticed something else: a hiss. *Ssssssss.......* What was that? I realized I was cold because of air, not liquid. Where was this airflow coming from?
A moment later, this question was answered. *SssssssssssssPOP.* The latch had not been secure. My door popped open!
Oh. Holy. H**l.
My indicated airspeed was about 120 m.p.h. and turbulent air raced past the door. It was also the first moment in my life I remember being afraid of heights. I sat for a moment, dumbfounded. My heart raced. Both hands were still occupied holding my bottle and my junk. What the h**l do I do!?
*Don’t panic*, my instructor Gary’s words echoed through my head. *The plane still flies fine with the door open.*
Oh god. Ok. Let’s figure this out. First thing’s first: I decided that this was not an emergency. Flailing around would make it one -- let’s avoid that. The only thing that would make this an emergency, I reasoned, would be if I somehow fell out of the plane. I used my non-bottle hand to verify my seatbelt was secure. I also checked behind me to make sure there was nothing loose in the back seat that might depart the aircraft.
All right. I decided I was safe. What next? I needed both hands to close and latch the door. My hands, however, were occupied with Operation PeePlosion. So, I reasoned, the correct next step was to finish peeing. I would look back later and see this as having been my first major executive decision as a pilot-in-command. With wind whooshing past, I filled the remaining third of the bottle, sealed it up, and set it on the floor like a boss.
Finally, with both hands now free, I tried to close the door -- no luck. The wind was too strong. I throttled back, slowed the plane down to about 75, and was able to slam and latch it at last.
I made my way into Las Vegas, landing on runway 19R and shutting down in front of the executive terminal where all the fancy private jets land. I grabbed the bottle and hopped out of the plane to use an actual restroom and find some food.
I took 20 steps and froze: it was Las Vegas. It was a Saturday afternoon. Playboys and party girls were descending on the city. There were two private jets parked in front of me; they literally had red carpets running out to them. Fashionable men were emerging from the aircraft with women on their arms -- blonde, leggy women in skin-tight clubbing dresses and immaculate makeup. They were ready for a night on the town. I was standing there in a ratty t-shirt, unshaven, and holding a warm bottle of my own p**s.
I couldn’t do it. I turned back. I found a quiet spot on the tarmac near my tie-down and emptied the bottle onto the ground. I hoped it would be discrete, but …. I guess I hadn’t had enough to drink after all. The pee was a radioactive shade of yellow.
“Well, at least this can’t get any *more* embarrassing,” I thought to myself.
Wrong.
“CLEAR!” Someone parked in the next row started up their turboprop. The propwash started to propel my giant ocean of shame downwind, spreading it out over the tarmac and spraying warm pee all over me and my plane.
I looked up to see a lineman giving me a icy glare. He shook his head sadly and drove off.
I returned to Vegas a couple of weeks later. It doesn’t rain there very often so the ramp was still stained yellow. I hope it's gone by now, but if you're ever there and see a yellow patch, raise a sport bottle and toast the day I learned how to keep my cool.
23points
#2
When I was getting my pilots license, the airport I was training at had one of the oddest collisions I had ever heard of. Unfortunately I was not training that day to see it. On final approach (the final straight away where planes come straight in to land), two small planes at different altitudes collided mid air preparing to land on the same runway. The plane at the higher altitude actually landed perfectly on top of the lower plane. The instructor in the lower plane was able to safely and successfully land his plane WITH the other plane sitting on top of it. That has got to be a one in a million chance of that happening successfully.
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20points
#3
I have not advanced in my pilot training to the point of flying passenger jets yet, but my biggest "scare" came during a solo flight in a single engine cessna.
As I was flying over a suburb of Montreal, I lost all electrical power in the plane - that means no radio, no flaps, no gps etc. Luckily for me, I knew exactly where I was. I ended up calling the place I rented the plane at on my cell phone (while flying, glad there weren't any cops around) and they made all the radio calls for me while I landed.
F*****g alternator.
As I was flying over a suburb of Montreal, I lost all electrical power in the plane - that means no radio, no flaps, no gps etc. Luckily for me, I knew exactly where I was. I ended up calling the place I rented the plane at on my cell phone (while flying, glad there weren't any cops around) and they made all the radio calls for me while I landed.
F*****g alternator.
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17points
#4
My uncle who was a pilot had to do a landing at night with cloud cover. The thing about night landings and with cloud cover is that you rely pretty much entirely on your instruments (airspeed/heading/altitude ect). When pilots fly this way it is known as IFR (Instrument Flight Reference)
The problem is that his instrumentation and his co-pilots instrumentation was reading different airspeeds and altitudes. he quickly checked with tower and figured out his co pilots instrumentation was at fault and guided the plane down using his own.
The problem? someone f****d up with pitot tube maintenance
get your s**t together air india
The problem is that his instrumentation and his co-pilots instrumentation was reading different airspeeds and altitudes. he quickly checked with tower and figured out his co pilots instrumentation was at fault and guided the plane down using his own.
The problem? someone f****d up with pitot tube maintenance
get your s**t together air india
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15points
#5
Airline Transport Pilot here... I'll break down the most scary flights by the type of flying:
1. Airline (regional airline, 50 seat Embraer): I was flying in the Northeast US during a particularly severe NorEaster. The millibars were stacked so tight you'd think you were looking at the rings of an old sequoia. The flight was short, about 50 minutes or so, but the ride was miserable. Solid IFR conditions from about 500 feet to FL300. We never got out of the weather. Heavy rain, wind so bad you could hear it buffeting the fuselage while at cruise. The turbulence was severe chop or worse from 15,000 feet to the surface. The autopilot was unable to keep up and failed somewhere over New York. Upon landing in the New York area, the tower controller asked me "how was the ride?" I just laughed. The turbulence was so bad by eyeballs couldn't focus on the instruments. Everyone on board had puked.
2. Cargo (twin engine piston, single pilot): I picked a bad winter to fly in Florida. It was El Something or La Something. It was the first time I had picked up icing in a small plane. I started picking up moderate rime ice somewhere over Orlando and kept asking ATC for a lower altitude. They finally let me down to their minimum vectoring altitude but it was no help. I remember thinking to myself, I wonder if I should just crash this thing. At least it would be a controlled crash vs. an iced up stall. I ended up making it but I don't know how. Also while flying cargo I got stuck in a downdraft while on a loc approach that I was unable to overcome with full power and about 15 degrees nose up. I recovered at about 400 ft AGL. Insane.
3. Instructing (single engine Cessnas): I hate skydivers. Not as people, mind you, but as aviators. They don't seem to follow the rules. I was practicing holding over a NDB in north Florida that happens to be on the field of a very popular skydiving airport. We were on an IFR flight plan and there were some clouds over the airport. In fact, we were punching in and out of them during the hold. ATC advised us about skydivers in the area and we kept a lookout. The plane I was flying had a skylight, two oblong windows above our heads - and thank goodness. As we were about to cross the fix, we popped out of the clouds and I saw two black figures drop right in front of our nose. Like someone above us was dropping sacks of potatoes. I immediately looked up through the skylight window to see a parachute canopy unfurling and a very scared skydiver being jerked back as his canopy inflated. I would guess he missed hitting our tail by about 10 feet. Note to skydivers: Don't jump through clouds - or even near clouds. It's a disaster waiting to happen.
1. Airline (regional airline, 50 seat Embraer): I was flying in the Northeast US during a particularly severe NorEaster. The millibars were stacked so tight you'd think you were looking at the rings of an old sequoia. The flight was short, about 50 minutes or so, but the ride was miserable. Solid IFR conditions from about 500 feet to FL300. We never got out of the weather. Heavy rain, wind so bad you could hear it buffeting the fuselage while at cruise. The turbulence was severe chop or worse from 15,000 feet to the surface. The autopilot was unable to keep up and failed somewhere over New York. Upon landing in the New York area, the tower controller asked me "how was the ride?" I just laughed. The turbulence was so bad by eyeballs couldn't focus on the instruments. Everyone on board had puked.
2. Cargo (twin engine piston, single pilot): I picked a bad winter to fly in Florida. It was El Something or La Something. It was the first time I had picked up icing in a small plane. I started picking up moderate rime ice somewhere over Orlando and kept asking ATC for a lower altitude. They finally let me down to their minimum vectoring altitude but it was no help. I remember thinking to myself, I wonder if I should just crash this thing. At least it would be a controlled crash vs. an iced up stall. I ended up making it but I don't know how. Also while flying cargo I got stuck in a downdraft while on a loc approach that I was unable to overcome with full power and about 15 degrees nose up. I recovered at about 400 ft AGL. Insane.
3. Instructing (single engine Cessnas): I hate skydivers. Not as people, mind you, but as aviators. They don't seem to follow the rules. I was practicing holding over a NDB in north Florida that happens to be on the field of a very popular skydiving airport. We were on an IFR flight plan and there were some clouds over the airport. In fact, we were punching in and out of them during the hold. ATC advised us about skydivers in the area and we kept a lookout. The plane I was flying had a skylight, two oblong windows above our heads - and thank goodness. As we were about to cross the fix, we popped out of the clouds and I saw two black figures drop right in front of our nose. Like someone above us was dropping sacks of potatoes. I immediately looked up through the skylight window to see a parachute canopy unfurling and a very scared skydiver being jerked back as his canopy inflated. I would guess he missed hitting our tail by about 10 feet. Note to skydivers: Don't jump through clouds - or even near clouds. It's a disaster waiting to happen.
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13points
#6
I fly 737's for a major airline. Scariest by far was doing the circling approach to land on runway 08 in Innsbruck, Austria. We do a lot of training for Innsbruck, basically it's in the middle of a very tight valley with mountains rising up to 13,000feet . It is very demanding and we actually require 3 pilots (rather than 2) to go as there is so much to take in. There are 3 different escape manoeuvres if we get into trouble ( as we can't out climb the mountains) and if we were to lose an engine it would be a bad day out but something we train for. Anyway, the circling approach takes us VERY close to terrain on our left, and at the end we basically have to dive down over power lines on a ridge just a few hundred feet beneath the aircraft while turning onto short final (our briefing material actually says "once clear of the power cables, increase rate of descent to over 1000 feet per minute). When I flew the approach (only done it once) the winds were crazy, the aircraft was all over the place but somehow we kept it stable and landed. When the aircraft came to a stop my heart was literally pounding in my chest and I was sweating profusely - not a good feeling. When disembarking, the passengers gave lots of good comments like "awesome approach" and "great landing" - if only they knew all 3 of the pilots just s**t themselves!
This is Innsbruck, surrounded by mountains just like this.
This is a nice day. Imagine this with snowstorms, clouds, gale force winds and not being able to see the mountains. The valley is too tight to do normal turns so we have special procedures to perform tighter turns in an emergency or go around
Another time I was flying into Pristina in Kosovo (don't ask). The airfield there has very basic navigation facilities. We got a massive shortcut from ATC which meant we were very very h**h - higher than we were supposed to be. To resolve this we pretty much dive the aircraft at h**h speed with a h**h rate of descent, a pretty normal manoeuvre but man we really needed to get down. Pristina also has some very h**h mountains, right beside the final approach. As we were hurtling towards final approach, in thick cloud, at low altitude (lower than the mountains) trying to catch up with the situation our navigation screens failed and went blank. For about 20 seconds we had no idea where we were (except very close to a f*****g huge mountain at h**h speed) and the air traffic controller pipes up: "are your navigation systems ok, you are 2 miles away from where you should be?" - This was another s**t yourself moment. We ended up going around (aborting the approach), getting to a safe altitude and landing on the other runway. Again, passengers none the wiser.
Last one - landing in Jersey (UK). Jersey is a very short runway, the shortest runway we land on by far, with one end of the runway leading over a cliff and into the sea. 737's can just about land on it but we are quite limited to certain weights and winds. It is always interesting. We usually use max brakes and max thrust reverse. With headwind it is no big deal really but it's never 100% comfortable. On one particular day we had the maximum tailwind we were allowed to accept (means a longer landing distance due to increased groundspeed) at the maximum weight - right on the limits. The captain floated the landing for only half a second but still managed to touchdown just inside the landing markers. I have never been so sure that we would not stop in time, I thought we would end up in the sea. We just made it. The passengers in Jersey are used to braking hard so they were none the wiser. It might sound dodgy but our performance calculations are very precise and it worked out ok.
This is Jersey - bit short for a 737
EDIT - Just to clarify folks, Innsbruck is a tough airport but we are trained to very h**h standards and brief very thoroughly before going. Despite there being a lot of hazards and a lot of information to process throughout the arrival we always know exactly what to if something goes wrong, where we will fly, what manoeuvres we will make etc, even if an engine should fail or if we get spurious or real terrain warnings from our systems (which happens here fairly regularly here). The circling approach sure did get my juices flowing but there is never any point where the aircraft is unsafe. Three pilots on the flight deck really helps with this and we constantly update each other throughout the arrival so we all share the same mental model of where we are, what is coming next, what tracks, altitudes and configuration we need to be in at each stage. Yaoslap kindly added this video of the Innsbruck circling approach on a nice day in the comment section. The final part of the circling manoeuvre is shown around the 7minute 30second mark but you can't see the proximity of terrain on the left.
Jersey is also very safe to fly to, I fly there every few weeks and it is usually fun and a non-event. 95% of the time we will be landing with a headwind and will stop with room to spare. Landing with a tailwind is not ideal on a short runway but it was our only choice this one time at max weight. 1 more knot of tailwind and we wouldn't have landed, if our wheels didn't touchdown inside the markers we would have aborted the landing - no risks are taken. The cliff at the end of the runway in Jersey makes no difference to the safety of the runway. There are lots of runways that end over cliffs (Dubrovnik) or sloping terrain, or towards the sea. If there is grass or buildings at the end of the runway instead it is just as dangerous, in fact, having buildings or obstacles in the approach/take off path is more limiting.
The situation in Pristina is the only one where we lost situational awareness for a short period due to a system failure. We reacted accordingly but even if the situation had deteriorated we have terrain warning systems as a backup that would have kicked in.
This is Innsbruck, surrounded by mountains just like this.
This is a nice day. Imagine this with snowstorms, clouds, gale force winds and not being able to see the mountains. The valley is too tight to do normal turns so we have special procedures to perform tighter turns in an emergency or go around
Another time I was flying into Pristina in Kosovo (don't ask). The airfield there has very basic navigation facilities. We got a massive shortcut from ATC which meant we were very very h**h - higher than we were supposed to be. To resolve this we pretty much dive the aircraft at h**h speed with a h**h rate of descent, a pretty normal manoeuvre but man we really needed to get down. Pristina also has some very h**h mountains, right beside the final approach. As we were hurtling towards final approach, in thick cloud, at low altitude (lower than the mountains) trying to catch up with the situation our navigation screens failed and went blank. For about 20 seconds we had no idea where we were (except very close to a f*****g huge mountain at h**h speed) and the air traffic controller pipes up: "are your navigation systems ok, you are 2 miles away from where you should be?" - This was another s**t yourself moment. We ended up going around (aborting the approach), getting to a safe altitude and landing on the other runway. Again, passengers none the wiser.
Last one - landing in Jersey (UK). Jersey is a very short runway, the shortest runway we land on by far, with one end of the runway leading over a cliff and into the sea. 737's can just about land on it but we are quite limited to certain weights and winds. It is always interesting. We usually use max brakes and max thrust reverse. With headwind it is no big deal really but it's never 100% comfortable. On one particular day we had the maximum tailwind we were allowed to accept (means a longer landing distance due to increased groundspeed) at the maximum weight - right on the limits. The captain floated the landing for only half a second but still managed to touchdown just inside the landing markers. I have never been so sure that we would not stop in time, I thought we would end up in the sea. We just made it. The passengers in Jersey are used to braking hard so they were none the wiser. It might sound dodgy but our performance calculations are very precise and it worked out ok.
This is Jersey - bit short for a 737
EDIT - Just to clarify folks, Innsbruck is a tough airport but we are trained to very h**h standards and brief very thoroughly before going. Despite there being a lot of hazards and a lot of information to process throughout the arrival we always know exactly what to if something goes wrong, where we will fly, what manoeuvres we will make etc, even if an engine should fail or if we get spurious or real terrain warnings from our systems (which happens here fairly regularly here). The circling approach sure did get my juices flowing but there is never any point where the aircraft is unsafe. Three pilots on the flight deck really helps with this and we constantly update each other throughout the arrival so we all share the same mental model of where we are, what is coming next, what tracks, altitudes and configuration we need to be in at each stage. Yaoslap kindly added this video of the Innsbruck circling approach on a nice day in the comment section. The final part of the circling manoeuvre is shown around the 7minute 30second mark but you can't see the proximity of terrain on the left.
Jersey is also very safe to fly to, I fly there every few weeks and it is usually fun and a non-event. 95% of the time we will be landing with a headwind and will stop with room to spare. Landing with a tailwind is not ideal on a short runway but it was our only choice this one time at max weight. 1 more knot of tailwind and we wouldn't have landed, if our wheels didn't touchdown inside the markers we would have aborted the landing - no risks are taken. The cliff at the end of the runway in Jersey makes no difference to the safety of the runway. There are lots of runways that end over cliffs (Dubrovnik) or sloping terrain, or towards the sea. If there is grass or buildings at the end of the runway instead it is just as dangerous, in fact, having buildings or obstacles in the approach/take off path is more limiting.
The situation in Pristina is the only one where we lost situational awareness for a short period due to a system failure. We reacted accordingly but even if the situation had deteriorated we have terrain warning systems as a backup that would have kicked in.
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9points
#7
The most terrifying pilot experience I know of:
> Flight 5390 was a British Airways flight between Birmingham Airport in England and Málaga, Spain. On 10 June 1990 an improperly installed panel of the windscreen failed, **blowing the plane's captain, Tim Lancaster, halfway out of the aircraft**, with his body firmly pressed against the window frame. The first officer managed to perform an emergency landing in Southampton with no loss of life.
> Flight 5390 was a British Airways flight between Birmingham Airport in England and Málaga, Spain. On 10 June 1990 an improperly installed panel of the windscreen failed, **blowing the plane's captain, Tim Lancaster, halfway out of the aircraft**, with his body firmly pressed against the window frame. The first officer managed to perform an emergency landing in Southampton with no loss of life.
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9points
#8
A friend of mine is a pilot/instructor, and was telling me that he was landing his Cessna when a deer ran out onto the runway in front of the airplane. They hit the deer. Luckily, the plane was safely on the ground and coming to a stop. The Prop grabbed onto the deer and slung it around a couple times, before the prop broke off. Destroyed the front of the airplane, blood spattered for almost 100 feet, and they found large chunks of the deer all over the field. He said that the sound he made when he saw it was some sort of mixture of laughing and screaming.
He showed me pictures once. I'll see if I can get him to send them to me and I'll post them.
He showed me pictures once. I'll see if I can get him to send them to me and I'll post them.
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8points
#9
While it was not a passenger plane, I was taking my flying test for a dual engine plane. My test proctor had a reputation for being quiet the entire time, and being the hardest one to please, hurray! Test starts, and im in the air, I start following the test guidelines that were set out, and not 5 minutes into the test, I run into a huge wave of sea fog. No visibility, all vertigo. I pull out my check list and set it down in front of me and keep checking the gauges and equipment over and over again. I make it out of the fog and, thankfully, I am not upside down, though emerging from the fog gave me another problem. Left engine failure. Again, check list comes out. I make a call to traffic control, and let them know whats up and that I need an emergency landing. While getting in position to land, this single engine Cessna gets in front of me. I make calls to him saying I need priority landing, I have left engine failure, and this is not a drill, I NEED to land. No response. I make the same call over and over again, stopping short of saying "HEY! A*S HOLE! GET THE F**K OUT OF MY WAY! OR I WILL RUN YOU OVER!". Again, no response. So, I do what I have to do. I pull as close to the Cessna as I possibly can, landing right behind him, knowing full well one mistake and the a*s hole in front of me, the proctor and I could very well die in a fiery plane explosion. Fun. Also, note that the proctor is just sitting there, not moving, and completely calm, while I am freaking the f**k out. The planes land safely, and the proctor, without saying a word, gets out of the plane and heads for the terminal. I get out a little after him, shaking and nearly on the verge of breaking down, sick to my stomach from the adrenaline and stress. My teacher emerges and basically says "what the h**l happened"? I tell him the story as best as I could at the time, and he just walks away. "F**k, I failed this test so hard..." Those words, just running over and over in my mind. I make it back to the terminal, and see the guy who was piloting the Cessna that was in front of me walks in. I take a seat, and waiting for the proctor to tell me I failed. I feel a tap on my shoulder, and my teacher points and says "look at this...". I look up and see the test proctor walk up to the Cessna pilot, hear him basically scream to see his license to pilot, take it from him, rip it in half, and walk away, and heading towards me. He walks up, and says "I would like to speak to your student, if I may". My teacher nods and says ok. Proctor looks me dead in the eyes and says "You are the best god d**n pilot I have ever had the pleasure of testing. And I will fly with you ANY day." and walks away.
I passed.
I passed.
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8points
#10
Aeronautical engineer here.
The scary thing about flying?
The thing most likely to cause an crash on an aircraft is the pilot, or another human error incident.
Most crash cases are when, for some reason, the pilot doesn't "believe" his instruments and decides he knows better, then proceeds to s***w everything up.
EDIT: I feel people are getting the impression I don't like pilots. I do I work with test pilots and some are good friends, the work they do is incredible. My point is that a human can get confused easier than a quad redundant pitot static system.
The scary thing about flying?
The thing most likely to cause an crash on an aircraft is the pilot, or another human error incident.
Most crash cases are when, for some reason, the pilot doesn't "believe" his instruments and decides he knows better, then proceeds to s***w everything up.
EDIT: I feel people are getting the impression I don't like pilots. I do I work with test pilots and some are good friends, the work they do is incredible. My point is that a human can get confused easier than a quad redundant pitot static system.
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8points
#11
That, as a brand new pilot on the line flying jets, you have no f*****g clue what is going on for the first few months. Training is good but can't prepare you for the speed at which things happen. You make so many mistakes and miss so many cues that you're more of a liability than a help. There are lots of new pilots on the line, especially in low cost carriers who take on 'cadets' straight from training (rather than experienced turbo-prop guys for example).
TLDR; I fly, I was a cadet. I f****d up lots.
TLDR; I fly, I was a cadet. I f****d up lots.
7points
#12
"I'm about to get on a trans-atlantic flight. Scare me good."
Well, I'm not a pilot, but since some folks have said that there will be pilots who are reluctant to talk ... allow me to give you my civilian passenger's story of what happened on a return flight from Tokyo's Narita airport to the United States.
If you put your hand in front of you while I walk you through this, and pretend it is a massive intercontinental jet, it will "Scare you good."
We were aboard a 747-400. This is a massive plane normally lands slightly nose-up - rear-gear first, then the nose tips down and the nose gear strikes.
We were on approach for landing in the U.S., when the plane begins to go slightly nose-up (which is normal, because the rear wheels are supposed to hit first when you land ... and this is about to become very important). Just when this normal part of the landing process is happening, all the passengers felt the plane 'twist' a couple of times, as if some giant had grabbed the tail in flight, and pushed the tail toward the "left" (port) side of the plane.
The wings stayed level, but the tail was pushed hard to one side, resulting in a very unhappy position for the plane. This was probably what is referred to as 'windshear'.
Now imagine: We are really coming up on the runway fast now. The part where you feel like the plane will strike the pavement with its wheels at any second. I'm watching the grass and runway lights whizzing by out my passenger window just a few rows behind the wing. I can still see plenty of sky, of course, too, just like you would looking out your car's window. I have a window seat on the left (port) side.
Suddenly, because the tail has shoved to the left (this so something called "yaw", when the plane does this)... now the plane is no longer pointed down the runway, and we're about to strike pavement. I am looking out my window on the **side** of the plane, and I can see way too much of the runway ahead. I should not be able to see anything like that. This plane is not pointed the right way at all anymore, and we're low --- very low, and dropping quickly as pavement starts coming up under us.
We are so very low, and the pilot tries to correct our position, to get the plane pointed down runway again. Basically, he needs to "turn left" in a big f*****g hurry, and the landing gear are just a few feet above the ground. Everyone in the passenger compartment gets wide-eyed, and we all look around at one another, because this all feels so very wrong.
There aren't many ways to squirm out of this sort of situation from what I can tell. I just keep thinking "Oh, God ... Oh, God ... Oh, I hope this pilot has been in the simulator a **lot**!"
The pilot seemed to opt to increase thrust (as I could hear the engines suddenly come up to a roar), and bank hard to the left (port) to try to get the nose pointed back in the right direction. He is using roll to correct the problem that sudden yaw had created. The ground is coming up so fast, I just can't believe the landing gear hasn't struck yet.
Suddenly, from this abrupt banking, I am looking out my window, and all I can see is the grass and pavement - no more sky at all. I look to the other side of the plane, and see all those windows over there are filled completely with sky. The left wingtip is skimming just a couple of feet above the ground ... and right as that is just beginning to come back to the correct position it happens.
The rear landing gear - specifically the left rear landing gear - strikes hard, but the right gear is clearly way up in the air. Everyone is grabbing their armrests, or bracing against the seats in front of them. Now comes the part where you expect the right gear to hit, but that is the craziest part of it all. The nose drops, and the front gear hit. Now we are left gear down, front gear down, right wing and gear still several feet off the ground.
After what seemed like 10 minutes, but probably only lasted several seconds, the right gear finally strikes with quite a lot of force, and the plane is now heading down the runway on all 3 sets of landing gear.
The usual post-touchown stuff starts happening (braking and reverse thrust, and so forth, and eventually we make our way to the gate to get off the plane. As we get off, everyone is quiet. The usual "Captian on the intercom" stuff where the pilot welcomes you to the airport, and hopes you had a nice flight ... did not occur.
------------
tl;dr: 747 experienced sharp windshear during the final seconds of landing. Pilot rolled the plane abruptly left to correct the plane's direction, resulting in the landing gear striking: 1st left rear, then nose gear, then right rear. Pilot wouldn't talk on the passengers via intercom afterwards.
Well, I'm not a pilot, but since some folks have said that there will be pilots who are reluctant to talk ... allow me to give you my civilian passenger's story of what happened on a return flight from Tokyo's Narita airport to the United States.
If you put your hand in front of you while I walk you through this, and pretend it is a massive intercontinental jet, it will "Scare you good."
We were aboard a 747-400. This is a massive plane normally lands slightly nose-up - rear-gear first, then the nose tips down and the nose gear strikes.
We were on approach for landing in the U.S., when the plane begins to go slightly nose-up (which is normal, because the rear wheels are supposed to hit first when you land ... and this is about to become very important). Just when this normal part of the landing process is happening, all the passengers felt the plane 'twist' a couple of times, as if some giant had grabbed the tail in flight, and pushed the tail toward the "left" (port) side of the plane.
The wings stayed level, but the tail was pushed hard to one side, resulting in a very unhappy position for the plane. This was probably what is referred to as 'windshear'.
Now imagine: We are really coming up on the runway fast now. The part where you feel like the plane will strike the pavement with its wheels at any second. I'm watching the grass and runway lights whizzing by out my passenger window just a few rows behind the wing. I can still see plenty of sky, of course, too, just like you would looking out your car's window. I have a window seat on the left (port) side.
Suddenly, because the tail has shoved to the left (this so something called "yaw", when the plane does this)... now the plane is no longer pointed down the runway, and we're about to strike pavement. I am looking out my window on the **side** of the plane, and I can see way too much of the runway ahead. I should not be able to see anything like that. This plane is not pointed the right way at all anymore, and we're low --- very low, and dropping quickly as pavement starts coming up under us.
We are so very low, and the pilot tries to correct our position, to get the plane pointed down runway again. Basically, he needs to "turn left" in a big f*****g hurry, and the landing gear are just a few feet above the ground. Everyone in the passenger compartment gets wide-eyed, and we all look around at one another, because this all feels so very wrong.
There aren't many ways to squirm out of this sort of situation from what I can tell. I just keep thinking "Oh, God ... Oh, God ... Oh, I hope this pilot has been in the simulator a **lot**!"
The pilot seemed to opt to increase thrust (as I could hear the engines suddenly come up to a roar), and bank hard to the left (port) to try to get the nose pointed back in the right direction. He is using roll to correct the problem that sudden yaw had created. The ground is coming up so fast, I just can't believe the landing gear hasn't struck yet.
Suddenly, from this abrupt banking, I am looking out my window, and all I can see is the grass and pavement - no more sky at all. I look to the other side of the plane, and see all those windows over there are filled completely with sky. The left wingtip is skimming just a couple of feet above the ground ... and right as that is just beginning to come back to the correct position it happens.
The rear landing gear - specifically the left rear landing gear - strikes hard, but the right gear is clearly way up in the air. Everyone is grabbing their armrests, or bracing against the seats in front of them. Now comes the part where you expect the right gear to hit, but that is the craziest part of it all. The nose drops, and the front gear hit. Now we are left gear down, front gear down, right wing and gear still several feet off the ground.
After what seemed like 10 minutes, but probably only lasted several seconds, the right gear finally strikes with quite a lot of force, and the plane is now heading down the runway on all 3 sets of landing gear.
The usual post-touchown stuff starts happening (braking and reverse thrust, and so forth, and eventually we make our way to the gate to get off the plane. As we get off, everyone is quiet. The usual "Captian on the intercom" stuff where the pilot welcomes you to the airport, and hopes you had a nice flight ... did not occur.
------------
tl;dr: 747 experienced sharp windshear during the final seconds of landing. Pilot rolled the plane abruptly left to correct the plane's direction, resulting in the landing gear striking: 1st left rear, then nose gear, then right rear. Pilot wouldn't talk on the passengers via intercom afterwards.
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7points
#13
I'll tell two stories I heard second-hand. I fly gliders recreationally, and regularly talk to commercial pilots in an informal setting. These stories are both through people who work in the airlines in question.
First story: A flight with airline Norwegian from Trondheim to Oslo (or maybe the other way, don't remember) a couple of years ago. The Boeing 737 had a problem with its ailerons, which are the rudders that bank the airplane. One of the most critical parts of the plane; they are critical for all maneuvering. I think the ailerons literally did not work, or had severely reduced functionality. But the 737 is wired such that if you give very large control inputs to the ailerons, the spoilers come out to aid with banking faster. (Spoilers are the airbrakes that come up of the wings after landing; they dramatically reduce the lift of the wing so the airplane won't jump back up once it is on the ground). You could selectively use the spoiler on the left or the right wing to bank, but you risk crashing if you have to do large corrections at low speeds (takeoff and landing), because the spoiler could reduce the left of the wing so much that it can't carry the weight of the plane any longer.
So in order to meet the schedule, the pilot decided to fly the leg with no ailerons, flying only using the spoilers. He was promptly fired after the plane landed.
Second story: On a low-cost European airline which shall remain nameless (I heard this from an inside guy and don't want to give this information), regulations allow for the pilots to take a nap, individually, during a flight. However, on this flight, _both_ pilots happened to take a nap at the same time. The autopilot was already engaged, so the plane just kept flying in a straight line with no one piloting it. The pilots woke up to a loud roar, and immediately turned up the volume on the headset, where the German Air Force were transmitting on the emergency frequency. The flight had been intercepted by two fighter jets, since ATC couldn't get in touch and hence assumed that the plane had been hijacked. The pilots were reprimanded, and a post on the company intranet reminded pilots to be careful about when they decided to take a nap.
**Tl;dr:** Airlines not always as tight on the security procedures as statistics and marketing would indicate.
First story: A flight with airline Norwegian from Trondheim to Oslo (or maybe the other way, don't remember) a couple of years ago. The Boeing 737 had a problem with its ailerons, which are the rudders that bank the airplane. One of the most critical parts of the plane; they are critical for all maneuvering. I think the ailerons literally did not work, or had severely reduced functionality. But the 737 is wired such that if you give very large control inputs to the ailerons, the spoilers come out to aid with banking faster. (Spoilers are the airbrakes that come up of the wings after landing; they dramatically reduce the lift of the wing so the airplane won't jump back up once it is on the ground). You could selectively use the spoiler on the left or the right wing to bank, but you risk crashing if you have to do large corrections at low speeds (takeoff and landing), because the spoiler could reduce the left of the wing so much that it can't carry the weight of the plane any longer.
So in order to meet the schedule, the pilot decided to fly the leg with no ailerons, flying only using the spoilers. He was promptly fired after the plane landed.
Second story: On a low-cost European airline which shall remain nameless (I heard this from an inside guy and don't want to give this information), regulations allow for the pilots to take a nap, individually, during a flight. However, on this flight, _both_ pilots happened to take a nap at the same time. The autopilot was already engaged, so the plane just kept flying in a straight line with no one piloting it. The pilots woke up to a loud roar, and immediately turned up the volume on the headset, where the German Air Force were transmitting on the emergency frequency. The flight had been intercepted by two fighter jets, since ATC couldn't get in touch and hence assumed that the plane had been hijacked. The pilots were reprimanded, and a post on the company intranet reminded pilots to be careful about when they decided to take a nap.
**Tl;dr:** Airlines not always as tight on the security procedures as statistics and marketing would indicate.
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6points
#14
My dad is a pilot, and owns a Piper Saratoga 7-seater. We have exactly 7 people in our family, and as the kids (me included) grew up and weighed more, taking off for family trips became more and more precarious. In the later years, we'd have to edge up and squeeze together in weird places so our weight would distribute in the right way, and even then we'd chew up every foot of runway in order to get off the ground. But none of this phased me - a child's blind trust that Daddy was a perfect god-like pilot.
One time, we were flying south and went through some weird weather, and ice began to build up. My mom and dad were in the cockpit, and me and my 4 sisters were in the back. I woke up right as we landed, and I was told we were in Kentucky. We got a hotel room that night and I remember my dad getting a 12-pack of Coors light and looking shaken. When I got older, the story came out: the ice built up on the wings and eventually covered the window and made it so my dad couldn't see. It also was weighing the plane down so that we were losing altitude, and for some reason, it wasn't melting even as we sank. We had to do an emergency landing, and there was an airport nearby, except now my dad couldn't SEE the runway to land the plane. He had to circle around the pattern several times, missing the runway once, then twice, losing altitude each time. His third and final try, he managed to look through his little side window thingy that opens up, and somehow landed. If he hadn't made it that third time, we would have died. My mom told me that she didn't wake us because she wanted us to die in our sleep, not in fear.
TL;DR: my pilot dad almost k***ed me and my entire family when ice built up on our plane.
One time, we were flying south and went through some weird weather, and ice began to build up. My mom and dad were in the cockpit, and me and my 4 sisters were in the back. I woke up right as we landed, and I was told we were in Kentucky. We got a hotel room that night and I remember my dad getting a 12-pack of Coors light and looking shaken. When I got older, the story came out: the ice built up on the wings and eventually covered the window and made it so my dad couldn't see. It also was weighing the plane down so that we were losing altitude, and for some reason, it wasn't melting even as we sank. We had to do an emergency landing, and there was an airport nearby, except now my dad couldn't SEE the runway to land the plane. He had to circle around the pattern several times, missing the runway once, then twice, losing altitude each time. His third and final try, he managed to look through his little side window thingy that opens up, and somehow landed. If he hadn't made it that third time, we would have died. My mom told me that she didn't wake us because she wanted us to die in our sleep, not in fear.
TL;DR: my pilot dad almost k***ed me and my entire family when ice built up on our plane.
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6points
#15
Flying from Russia to Vietnam. about half way through the flight while everyone is sleeping the plane suddenly makes a very sharp right turn at a super steep angle, I look out the window and we barely miss an oncoming jet. the pilot then leveled out the plane and everyone that was sleeping had no idea.
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6points
#16
While practicing my night landings at Kitchener, an airplane overtook me.
**An airplane overtook me. Freeway-style.**
I'm on my final approach minding my own g*****n business when this other Cessna, barely a few feet away, slowly flies past me on my left side. I get a huge deer-in-headlights moment and forget where I am. I don't even think of reacting.
Then the tower calls up...
*"Delta-Echo-Romeo-Papa, do you see anything special around you?"*
*"Ummm.... negative tower, Echo-Romeo-Papa."*
*"FHGFHAGJFHAGFHJGARGEU-- PULL UP PULL UP GO AROUND."*
Dude never noticed I was even there. O_O Had he been ten feet further to the right, he'd have blindingly given me the assfuck of the century.
**An airplane overtook me. Freeway-style.**
I'm on my final approach minding my own g*****n business when this other Cessna, barely a few feet away, slowly flies past me on my left side. I get a huge deer-in-headlights moment and forget where I am. I don't even think of reacting.
Then the tower calls up...
*"Delta-Echo-Romeo-Papa, do you see anything special around you?"*
*"Ummm.... negative tower, Echo-Romeo-Papa."*
*"FHGFHAGJFHAGFHJGARGEU-- PULL UP PULL UP GO AROUND."*
Dude never noticed I was even there. O_O Had he been ten feet further to the right, he'd have blindingly given me the assfuck of the century.
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6points
#17
Nice try, FAA. (I've always wanted to use that one)
For those of you who have watched Flying Wild Alaska (The show with Ariel Tweeto), I've got some news for you.
This is word of mouth, but apparently the videos have caught all sorts of illegal conditions of the airplane. Everything from operation to engine cowling brackets being undone. The word was that the FAA sent out about 200 Letters of Investigation, which basically mean that a pilot who gets one is going to be severely punished if he doesn't prove that he was legal and safe. There's a catchall regulation that says we shall not fly in a careless and reckless manner, and that's really up for interpretation based on the mood of the FAA inspector when he reviews your case.
For those of you who have watched Flying Wild Alaska (The show with Ariel Tweeto), I've got some news for you.
This is word of mouth, but apparently the videos have caught all sorts of illegal conditions of the airplane. Everything from operation to engine cowling brackets being undone. The word was that the FAA sent out about 200 Letters of Investigation, which basically mean that a pilot who gets one is going to be severely punished if he doesn't prove that he was legal and safe. There's a catchall regulation that says we shall not fly in a careless and reckless manner, and that's really up for interpretation based on the mood of the FAA inspector when he reviews your case.
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6points
#18
Helicopter pilot, I almost traded paint with a UAV once. It was literally dead on, heading right for my face. I turned with about three spare seconds. From head on they are extremely hard to see. We informed tower, last thing I heard before changing frequencies was "he lied about his position." FFS.
6points
#19
Not quite the requested scenario, but close enough I hope: last Fourth of July, I was at a BBQ when I got a call from my dad -- mid-50s lawyer who's truly a plane nerd at heart. He's also fortunate (and hard-working) enough to own an old 5-seater Commanche.
Now, every summer, my Dad and I usually fly cross-country, East Coast to Montana. The women in our family are straight terrified of the little plane, so I was sorta on tap to not break his heart entirely. Last year was the first year I had been unable to accompany him.
So I get the call, and he opens with: "I'm calling you because I gotta tell somebody about this, but you gotta swear not to tell your mother, because otherwise it might be the end of her."
Dude goes on to tell me how he found himself boxed in on all sides by a thunderstorm over middle-of-nowhere-mountainous-terrain, Wyoming. ALL OF A SUDDEN his engine just CUTS OUT. Dies. Totally. 14,000 feet up. Instrument conditions. Unfamiliar, dangerous, remote terrain beneath.
So he's in contact (barely) with ONE flight controller hundreds of miles away. He starts gliding down, through the IFR fog. Controller is not much help, as he was outside of her radar range.
FINALLY breaks cloud cover a couple thousand feet over the ground. He said he saw the airport, immediately realized he wasn't gonna make it. Started looking for a field. Found one and made a beeline.
Comes in for a BEAUTIFUL landing in a giant radish (I think) field -- the point being they were root plants, so despite the Commanche being a low-wing design, there was not a single scratch, dent, nor scuff on the d**n plane (good thing too, he loves that paint job). Just three tire trails through the fields.
KICKER(s):
1) AS SOON as he landed, the storm just vanished. Totally. People who live in Wyoming/Montana know how that goes.
2) Turns out he landed on the ranch of a family mid-celebration. They saw this plane land in their field, and one (adult) son drove out to check it out. Gets up to the Pilot side, raps on the glass and goes "Hey, you alright?" My dad says yes. Then the guy goes -- I s**t you not -- "Look, you're never gonna believe this, but I actually work for the FAA."
3) My dad made the front page of their (6 page) daily newspaper. He has many framed copies. My dad is a huge nerd. But bigger badass.
And I'm really, really glad that story goes the way it does, and not the other way.
Picture to prove EVERYTHING
Now, every summer, my Dad and I usually fly cross-country, East Coast to Montana. The women in our family are straight terrified of the little plane, so I was sorta on tap to not break his heart entirely. Last year was the first year I had been unable to accompany him.
So I get the call, and he opens with: "I'm calling you because I gotta tell somebody about this, but you gotta swear not to tell your mother, because otherwise it might be the end of her."
Dude goes on to tell me how he found himself boxed in on all sides by a thunderstorm over middle-of-nowhere-mountainous-terrain, Wyoming. ALL OF A SUDDEN his engine just CUTS OUT. Dies. Totally. 14,000 feet up. Instrument conditions. Unfamiliar, dangerous, remote terrain beneath.
So he's in contact (barely) with ONE flight controller hundreds of miles away. He starts gliding down, through the IFR fog. Controller is not much help, as he was outside of her radar range.
FINALLY breaks cloud cover a couple thousand feet over the ground. He said he saw the airport, immediately realized he wasn't gonna make it. Started looking for a field. Found one and made a beeline.
Comes in for a BEAUTIFUL landing in a giant radish (I think) field -- the point being they were root plants, so despite the Commanche being a low-wing design, there was not a single scratch, dent, nor scuff on the d**n plane (good thing too, he loves that paint job). Just three tire trails through the fields.
KICKER(s):
1) AS SOON as he landed, the storm just vanished. Totally. People who live in Wyoming/Montana know how that goes.
2) Turns out he landed on the ranch of a family mid-celebration. They saw this plane land in their field, and one (adult) son drove out to check it out. Gets up to the Pilot side, raps on the glass and goes "Hey, you alright?" My dad says yes. Then the guy goes -- I s**t you not -- "Look, you're never gonna believe this, but I actually work for the FAA."
3) My dad made the front page of their (6 page) daily newspaper. He has many framed copies. My dad is a huge nerd. But bigger badass.
And I'm really, really glad that story goes the way it does, and not the other way.
Picture to prove EVERYTHING
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6points
#20
I'm not a pilot, I'm a USMC CrewChief on the MV-22 Osprey. I'm the guy u see in the door if u click on the link and the one who shoots the guns out the back. Idk if this totally fits the criteria as everyone was well aware of this situation. We were coming into land, final landing of the sortie before we went back to our line. It was a typical hover landing and we began descending from 20ft...10...5 then the student pilot pulled power and we dropped from about 5 feet and hit the deck. The rotors were a couple degrees to the back so after hitting the deck we began bouncing backwards down the runway. The copilot got scared and pushed power back in and we zoomed up to about 30ft where he again got scared and pulled power put causing us to drop rapidly toward the ground. Not but a few feet from hitting, the instructor pilot pushed full power in cushioning the contact with the pavement and we shot right back up to 30ft, and the instructor landed us from there. I was on the ramp in the back just listening over the ICS to all of this and bouncing around s******g myself the whole time. Somehow no damage was done to the gear so we just didn't really talk to anyone about it because it could have been potentially fatal had the pilot not reacted quick enough.
Also once we went negative g's and I flew up in the air and landed on my stomach on the edge of the ramp dangling from the waste down over the edge at about 5000ft. Luckily my gunner's belt (belt around chest that attaches to the floorboard via a lanyard) was holding me in. That was by far the most terrifying moment of my life. The pilots never knew about it but the other CrewChief came and pulled me back in then proceeded to point and laugh at me as I laid there trembling and checking my pants for p**s and s**t.
Also once we went negative g's and I flew up in the air and landed on my stomach on the edge of the ramp dangling from the waste down over the edge at about 5000ft. Luckily my gunner's belt (belt around chest that attaches to the floorboard via a lanyard) was holding me in. That was by far the most terrifying moment of my life. The pilots never knew about it but the other CrewChief came and pulled me back in then proceeded to point and laugh at me as I laid there trembling and checking my pants for p**s and s**t.
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6points