The fact that all three of my passengers were throwing up simultaneously left me three options: Tough it out and press on to our destination; join them in their nauseous state; or declare an emergency and get the hell on the ground.
My right seat passenger was a Horizon Air first officer. She thought she was used to bumpy rides. I was flying her to her domicile. She was supposed to report for work there within four hours of our scheduled arrival time.
To top it off, it was only the 11th month of her 12-month probation period. Missing her show time could be reason enough to fire her. I wanted to press on…believe me. I wanted to impress her with my weather flying skills in hard IMC. I wanted to be her hero. But mostly I wanted her to walk my resumé in to her chief pilot the next time a hiring window opened.
Everything in me said, “continue.” Even my front seatmate pleaded for me to gut it out, so I hesitated.
But here’s the thing: It’s a strange reality to be at 8,000 feet and your soundtrack becomes the steady thrum of twin Comanche motors and propellers counterpointing the unsteady gasping and retching of your passengers. When my own stomach began to roil, I knew I had to throw all thoughts of heroism out. I reluctantly chose to declare an emergency and divert to the nearest airport.
“Center, twin Comanche three hundred romeo echo is declaring a medical emergency. I have multiple vomiters onboard and I need clearance down to 2,200 immediately and vectors to KCEC for the ILS 11 approach.”
Without waiting, I initiated an emergency descent and made the turn myself. I’d already pressed the “nearest” button on the Garmin 430, so I knew which direction to head in. ATC didn’t like that move. I could hear the audible distress signal of a near miss in the background when they exhorted me to stop my turn and descent.
After minutes that passed like seconds, we taxied up to the FBO. A crowd surged onto the rainy ramp. ATC, of course, had passed on the nature of our emergency. People had gathered, as intrigued by what might emerge from the plane as they were afraid. My passengers deplaned as best they could, each looking like a pile of clothes just out of the spin cycle.
The Horizon Air FO called in sick and missed her show time, but she wasn’t fired. She and the other passengers did get their first ambulance rides. It was determined that their lunch, not the ride, had sickened all aboard. As for me, I stumbled onto the tarmac and finally succumbed as well.
One thing the pilot may have forgotten to do – tell his passengers not to vomit out of the windows – it will come right back in on the perpetrator, and everyone else. I always thought that air (and sea) sickness is brought on and exacerbated by the absence of a visible horizon. As an experienced IFR pilot, wouldn’t the instruments have compensated for the invisible horizon, at least for him? In any event, we should all be thankful that the flight didn’t end up as a sad statistic.
Better to be judged by twelve then carried by six.
3 vomiting passengers is not an emergency. A call to atc asking for immediate vectors to the nearest airport due to sick passengers would have accomplished a landing within a minute or two of the emergency landing. There are many reasons to declare an emergency, but using the emergency process when lives are not in danger is a misuse of the serious implications of declaring an emergency.. All traffic is halted at nearby airports, all airplanes in the vicinity of the emergency aircraft are vectored out of the way, fire crews are alerted, etc..
I don’t agree with Wendt. Most of the objectors don’t seem to me to be thinking of three retching passengers and a pilot at the controls honking his lunch all over the dials – IFR…
He did the right thing. An aviator sensing a valid reduction in safety standards IS person in command ofnhis senses – not the other way around. what a waste of complaints.
Very good advice…i remember saying ” i am in an area of reduced visibility” instead of t is darker than the inside of a boot in here. Long ago…
I’m not sure that crusty old CFI has it right. As I understand it, the words “declaring an emergency” are considered equivalent to a mayday call, but “declaring an emergency” is not standard phraseology while “mayday-mayday-mayday” is. See the FAR/AIM section 3 and ICAO Standard Phraseology.
Also, keep in mind the “less urgent emergency” which is “pan-pan pan-pan pan-pan” — probably closer to what this article considers to be “declaring an emergency”.
And another thing:
I belive the newspaper has it wrong (headliner);
The landing was not an emergency landing – it was a precautionary landing. The precaution was to avoid the emergency. My airline bosws once said to me:”When I see something which might get worse, I decide what I’ll do. If it does get worse, I’m doing it.”
It is interesting that as a society, we have been conditioned to call 911 for everything that is what we consider “out of the norm”. A dog chasing and barking at a kid riding a bicycle, call 911. A jogger trips and falls and skins his knee on the sidewalk, call 911. A tree branch has fallen in the road and is partially blocking traffic, call 911. Could any of these examples be solved without calling 911? You betcha, but we hear it over and over…… call 911.. In summary, kick the dog and pedal faster, give the jogger a paper towel and piece of duct tape and take 30 seconds to drag the branch to the curb. All of these scenarios could most likely be “fixed” on a very local basis.
However, when there is a 7 car pile up with smoke and fire, bent metal and an uncertain outcome for those involved, we call that same 911. It is clear that if no help is offered nor requested, the situation could get much worse and those involved may not survive.
Pilots are much different than this. We are the masters of our machines and are trained to keep it airborne, no matter the cost. We dont need no stink’in 911. When it comes to a skinned knee, we are headed for the phone and can find the digits with our eyes closed. But, If there is risk of turning into a smoking hole, with loss of life and limb, the second guessing starts and you begin to question yourself. What will the guy on the other end of the frequency say or think about my “mastery of aviation”?
Stop it!! The need for help while flying is nothing more than a dialogue or dance with the guy on the other end of the radio.. The guys/gals on the other end will help you get out of a jam and are trained to do exactly that. They are experts at managing airspace issues just as you are at flying your machine. Who cares if you are given a phone number to call or a few papers to fill out. You had an emergency and felt you needed help. You may have felt the dog chasing the kid on the bike had rabies and justified a call to 911. This is explainable and justified.
At 16 years old and flying from the grass strip in Jerseyville, Illinois, my retired Ozark Airline CFI instilled in my young thick head that if you need them tell them now because if you hesitate it may be too late to get a positive outcome. 35 years later I still remember those words and have no problem with starting the dialogue or “doing the dance” with the guy on the other end of the scope.
You are the only one who decides when to call 911……just never wait too long.
Excellent article! The how, when and why of declaring emergencies should be thoroughly taught in the late stages of obtaining ANY rating. Had I receive that training I definitely would have declared an emergency when I was on an instrument flight plan inside a heavy rainstorm climbing through complex metropolitan airspace toward mountains and given an amended altitude to reach that was beyond the practical limits of my Cherokee 140.
“Are you declaring an emergency? I was asked. My reply was something similar to “No, I’m turning around and returning to the airport” Why did I not say yes. Because I was afraid I would have to go make a report and not be able to continue my trip. And I did turn around. It was mid-morning but it looked like late evening inside that storm. I was wrong and I realized that later and have remembered it many times over the years.
I also got an apology from the tower as I taxied back to my tiedown, for receiving an enroute change to my original course assignment, which had required only 9,000 feet altitude instead of the amended route requiring 11,000 feet. And I got an offer to get me out again on the originally-requested route.
However, I made up for my dumb decision not to declare an emergency by tying down the plane, putting my luggage in the car and driving to my destination. The storm proved to be much worse than forecast.
Fantastic story, Dick! Harrowing, too. I just learned something from it.
Thanks for sharing that with me and the readers.