If I Have a Son I am Naming Him Arland

I hate flying. I do it, but I hate it. When I saw the "Miracle of Flight 1549" last week, needless to say it did little to ease my fears. I don't really know why flying makes me feel like Dustin Hoffman during the airport scene in Rainman because statistically its safety is unmatched. Research shows that you have a 1 in roughly 10 million chance of dying on any given flight. Just to put that in perspective: odds of getting killed by lighting is 1 in 700,000; odds of getting killed in a tsunami is 1 in 500,000; and odds of getting killed by a domestic dog is 1 in 147,000.

I am sure that the people on flight 1549 had no idea of these odds and if they did they would have mattered little to them once they were told to "brace for impact". Most of the people who have ever heard similar words are dead. Like the people that were on Air Florida Flight 90, Washington D.C. to Tampa on January 13, 1982. That was the last commercial airliner to attempt a water landing in the United States.

It was a very cold day in the capital, flights had been delayed for nearly 1.5 hours when some bad weather passed and planes were given the green light. Flight 90 loaded it passengers and got in line behind numerous other planes taxing to the runway. While waiting for 45 minutes to get cleared for take off the pilot disregarded an anti-icing mechanism required in this type of weather. This decision decided the fate for this flight.

The Boeing 737-222 barreled down the icy runway and slowly lifted off. As it began its initial climb the pilot and co-pilot knew things were not right. It turns out they took off too early due to a frozen sensor functioning incorrectly. They did not have enough power to get high enough fast enough. They hit a bridge crushing cars and decapitating four people. The aircraft plunged into the frozen Potomac River. Six people survived the impact and all but one clung to the only portion of the plane sticking out of the water, the tail. Within 5 minutes one rescue helicopter was on the scene pulling survivors out of the water. They dropped a life vest hanging from a rope and one by one the first three people held on and were pulled to safety. When they dropped the rope a fourth time it was dropped in front of "a man in his 50's, balding" as he was described by rescuers. He grabbed the rope and in an act of selflessness immediately handed it to one of the other survivors and they were taken away. Three minutes later the helicopter came back and again the rope fell directly to this man and again he decided to give it away. Some where between the time the helicopter left and the time it came back the people looking on from the battered bridge watched as the plane and this man sunk into the water never to resurface. He had been in the water 29 minutes.

Months later authorities finally figured out that this man was Arland D. Williams Jr., a 46 year old bank auditor from Atlanta. His identity was confirmed only due to the fact that he was the only passenger pulled from the Potomac who died of drowning. In his honor, the bridge hit in the crash which connects Washington D.C. to Virginia has since been renamed Arland D. Williams Jr. bridge.

I read this story over the weekend and it has stuck with me for days. I can't get over the selflessness and the absence of fear this man showed. I am sure we all agree that Arland should not be grouped in with the 1 in roughly 10 million who die in plane crashes. Guys like him are much rarer.