So far as I know, there are only three things in life about which one must be very careful: surgery, flying and how you treat other people. The rest will take care of itself. So there are elaborate rules that govern these three critical domains. This explains the preflight inspection, the need for a careful diagnosis prior to treatment and the usefulness of the thank you note. Rules exist in many other areas, but often they seem beside the point, or, in some instances, risible. But for these three basic accomplishments of mankind, rules are there for a reason.
Southwest Flight 2903 is buttoned up and the jetway is clear. The "classic" 737-300 is over two hours late on the Manchester (NH) to Tampa trip due to thunderstorms throughout the Northeast. A frequent passenger on this flight, I've learned to track the airplane that makes up 2903 as it leaves Midway and goes to Baltimore, then to MHT. Though the airplane made it to BWI on time, it got hung up there; so much for my careful calculations. There will be more surprises, it turns out.
Five minutes pass and yet no push back. One of the pilots announces that the "performance computer" needs to be rebooted, expect a short delay. I can imagine the crew madly punching keys in the dark as they try to keep things moving; they've got Tampa to Fort Lauderdale ahead of them once we get to Florida and it is already 8:30 at night. Lightning flashes in the distance. Does it affect the OPC, I wonder?
Finally we move. A flight attendant makes a joke, "We're moving, but it is backwards."
No one laughs. I watch and listen as the engines are started, flaps are set, speed brakes exercised and stowed. I am heartened by the application of power. We'll get home by midnight after all, if nothing else happens.
Sure enough we taxi out, but then suddenly swerve off the taxiway to the left and stop. We are obviously in some sort of ground hold position. Has the Northeast gotten so clogged this late in the evening that we will be held on the ground before getting permission to go home? I sigh.
A few minutes pass. The captain comes on. "Our computer says that with 137 passengers and bags we must depart Runway 35, even though the wind is calm. This is against the flow of the other airplanes, so there will be a delay before we can get cleared to take off on 35. We're very sorry for the additional delay." I'm thinking that this can't be. Runway 17-35 is over 9,000 feet long. I know 737s depart MDW with its 6,000-foot runways without a problem. It isn't that hot tonight. I know there is an ILS to 35, implying that there can't be any serious obstructions on the 17 departure, otherwise how could you shoot to minimums coming the other way? What kind of rule is this?
We wait. A few airplanes land. Finally power. We taxi out to 35 and depart without incident. The seatbelt sign is on most of the flight. Lightning is in the distance; first to the right, then to the left for the entire evening. There's plenty of time to ruminate about rules.
My memory goes back to an extraordinary two-week experience at Higher Power Aviation in Dallas a few summers ago when I got a type rating in the Boeing 737. I had trouble with engine failures at V1. Though almost unheard of, catastrophic power loss at this critical point is practiced and tested over and over. That's an FAA rule. I finally learned to use lots of rudder, keep the airplane on the runway for an extra second to gain a knot or two, and to use the friction of the tires to keep straight, then rotate. Even then, the 300 simulator had a pretty anemic climb rate until the airplane could be configured with gear up. The rule is to remove your hand from the throttles after the V1 call-no matter what happened next, you were going flying. A good rule for good reason.
It also explains why runway length is only part of the equation. Once airborne, the length of remaining runway (unless it is miles) means little to the pilots struggling to nurse climb rate out of an injured airplane.
I start thinking about rules. Our pilots tonight are following them very religiously. I make a note to find out more about their decisions tomorrow. I think to rules in surgery: "Diagnosis precedes plans for treatment. You can't make a patient without symptoms feel any better. All bleeding stops (ultimately). Don't hurt yourself. Never mess with the pancreas." These are good rules to live by in my line of work.
We've got our less helpful rules, too. I think to an awkward, embarrassing moment a few weeks ago at the hospital where I work. I had brought a friend, a friend of 40 years, a neurosurgeon, to our operating rooms to watch a case. We've done this many times before. It is fun and you always learn something when you watch another operative team at work. After getting permission from the patient and his wife for my friend to observe, we changed into scrub suits. Just as we were getting started, an administrative nurse, whom I didn't recognize, accosted us. Didn't we know the rules? Indignantly quoting a series of committee rules and regulations, she basically threw my buddy out. I arranged for him to change clothes, borrow the car and go home. I was deeply embarrassed. What kind of new rule was this?
