Resilience is the ability of a system to maintain operations in the face of unexpected disruptions. On my way to the Resilience Engineering Symposium, I encountered a system that did not adapt well in the face of disruption.
It had seemed a simple plan, an afternoon flight from Orlando to the DC area, RON, then a quick visit at the Air & Space museum before my flights to Paris and Lisbon. But I had not been mindful of the season; as the day progressed, fluffy white clouds gave way to a grey mass that covered half the western sky. By the time I arrived at the gate it was raining. Then… crack! A bright flash lit the darkened sky. Within a minute everyone on the ramp had scurried inside, and our flight was delayed. Parents sighed and children returned to running around the gate area. After a short interval we were able to board the aircraft, and after another delay for more lightning, we finally pushed back and were on our way.
It was Sunday afternoon, and the flight was filled with families returning from Disney World. I lucked out and got a seat on an exit row between two software developers. We had a nice conversation during taxi, then turned to our tablets after departure. It was a pleasant flight; parents coordinated the return to everyday schedules while children and grandparents napped. I had begun to nod off when I felt a change: the engines powered back and we made a wide turn to the west.
After a short interval, the pilot came over the intercom. The Company had directed we divert to Charlotte, she was awaiting further information, and would provide updates as it became available. Three turns in holding and a long approach we were on the ground, where a gate agent came on board to provide the promised update.
I felt for the woman as she relayed what she knew. She and her colleagues had been called from home to ‘catch’ our plane. Their station served twelve flights a week with a limited crew even on the best of days. She had been the first to arrive, and the rest of the team was still on their way. Ideally she would have then provided the reason for our delay, the estimated length, and when we could expect further instructions. But when she clicked off without passing this on, I got the sense she didn’t know any more than we did. Left to our own devices, we soon discovered severe storms were approaching the DC area and theorized this was the reason for our delay. After a bit the gate agent returned to advise the delay would be at least an hour, so we could leave the plane so long as we stayed close.
Charlotte use to be the hub for an airline aspiring for the majors. It is well outfitted, with long corridors for walking and healthy choices in the food court. My seat mates had elected to remain in the cabin, so after a nice stretch of my legs, I picked up dinner (barbecue for them, salad and fruit for me) and headed back. Our neck of the terminal was filled with families, children merrily racing around or using chairs and an improvised jungle gym while their parents updated their arrival arrangements. It turned out the gate was locked; our poor ground crew had been called away to catch another flight, their normally scheduled evening arrival. Once they could spare an agent our gate was re-opened and I delivered the dinners I had retrieved.
The crew, it turned out, were as restless as the passengers. To pass the time they began giving cockpit tours to the children, then anyone who was interested in taking a look. The plane was an older ‘analog’ 737, so when my turn came around, conversation drifted to dual ratings (did they also fly airplanes with digital cockpits), negative habit transfer (did they find themselves applying procedures from one cockpit to another), corporate culture and our ongoing saga. It turned out the instruction to divert had been relayed by air traffic control, and the pilot had been so surprised she had verified the instruction with three different offices (dispatch, pilots office, union) before she accepted the instruction. The pilot also relayed that the storm front had stalled, the FAA had instituted a ground stop, our sister aircraft was in the same situation we were, and, by the way, our Captain would ‘time out’ (run out of duty day) at seven pm. After a quick primer on programming the flight management system, I left for another walk through the terminal.
Our one hour delay became two, then three. I watched the sun set, did some yoga, went back to the plane and wrote some e-mails. Word came back that our pilot had been given a duty time extension, and would be available until midnight. Suddenly, just before nine pm there was a flurry of activity and we were asked to return to our seats; we had received a 2130 ‘push back time’ for a 2200 departure. Tired but with lifted spirits, we filed back on to the aircraft and we settled in to our seats. We watched as the pilots updated the FMS and began pre-flight checks, ground crew arrived with the updated manifest, heard the APU spool up, and, oh blessed night, the door was closed and latched. Everything was looking good…
And then…
“You’re not going to believe this folks. The fuel farm at our destination was just hit by lightning. The FAA has issued a ground stop. Our company is sorting out our options, but we are here for the night. The gate agents will have more information at the counter.”
My seat was in the middle of the plane, so I found myself well back in the rebooking line. The exhausted gate agents were clearly as upset as we were, but they remained professional as they slowly processed the hoard of tired and frustrated passengers. Some of us tried to rebook on line or over the phone, but the web site stalled and we were placed on extended hold. After catching my wits (what little was left of them) I called another airline, and was able to get a seat on their morning flight. I booked a local hotel, got my luggage and called it a night. On my way out I passed families huddled in corners, one parent eyes open while the rest slept.
But my day’s adventure was not yet over. I tend to stay at the same chain when on personal travel, one that accepts pets, and this was where the courtesy van dropped me. Upon arrival, I vaguely recalled the location from a stay years ago while on a road trip with Chewie. But the scene was much different during these late hours as the front desk had graciously opened the lobby to local ‘second-economy’ workers sanctuary between clients. After coordinating my stay and declining several offers of (professional) companionship, I found my room, double-locked my door, leaned both bags against it, and took a long, hot shower.
Five hours later I was back at the airport, ready for the next leg of my journey. More soon!
Note: RON = Remain Over Night
