BOSTON, MA – 12:35 P.M. / 1735Z

Already twenty minutes late for his younger brother Mark’s 30th birthday party, Craig Owens half ran into the restaurant trying not to get too wet from the cold, pouring rain. Once inside, Craig immediately spotted Mark and the others seated at a long table.
“Hi everybody. Sorry I’m late.”
Craig greeted everybody and wished his brother a “Happy Birthday” while giving him a hug. Several minutes later, after Mark had introduced Craig to the people that he did not recognize, the party group sat down and enjoyed the food and cake that was served. After presents were opened and things had quieted down, Craig pulled his chair over and sat down next to Bill and Liz Washington, talking for over half an hour as they caught up on families, old times, and changes that had taken place over the long period of time since they had last seen each other. As they talked, another couple from Craig’s old neighborhood, Frank and Mona Harris, joined the conversation. Within minutes, the conversation turned to questions about Craig’s profession.
“So, how long have you been an air traffic controller?…How do you handle the stress?…How do you keep track of all of those airplanes?…How come there are so many delays?”
Craig tried to answer the questions in a way that was informative, but not too technical. Noticing the puzzled look on their faces, he tried harder to explain.
“Wait a minute,” Frank Harris interrupted. “How is it you work in New Hampshire when the tower is here in Boston? How are you able to see the airplanes?”
Craig tried to tell them how the airspace across the United States is broken up, sectored and stratified, and how radar covers each area. He took several napkins and drew rough pictures as he talked. No matter how hard he tried, he could not make Frank Harris understand how the system worked. Looking at his watch, Craig could see that he would be cutting it close in getting to work on time, knowing that it could take an hour to make the drive to Nashua in the rain. Trying to be polite, sensing that he was not getting anywhere with his explanations, Craig tried to wrap up his conversation.
“It sounds complicated, but there is a certain order to the system,” Craig said. “The main problem is that, just like rush hour on the highways, everybody, all of the flights, are trying to get in and out at the same time. When twenty airplanes are scheduled to land at the same time that twenty airplanes want to take off, there are going to be delays. Compounded by all of the major airports on the east coast, there is just no way around from having delays. We, as human beings, can only handle so many airplanes safely. If there is stress, it is trying to work all of those aircraft during those times. Besides, I think stress is relative to the individual. Some simply handle it better than others.”
Frank Harris and the others nodded their heads as Craig talked. When Craig was finished, Frank leaned back in his chair. With a smile, he looked Craig in the eye.
“Well, I understand one thing…the stress thing. I can understand that you say that stress is relative. I mean, for you, up in New Hampshire, there can’t be much stress. After all, you must not do much since all of the airplanes are down here at the airport in Boston.”
Craig silently leaned back in his chair and smiled.
He wanted to say something, but realized that he was not going to get anywhere in this conversation. Craig politely excused himself and made his way to his brother. After saying good-bye to Mark and the others, Craig headed out of the restaurant.
Several minutes later, while driving his car on US highway 3 heading north to Nashua, Craig suddenly burst out laughing, loudly repeating the comment made by Frank Harris.
“You must not do much in Nashua, all the airplanes are in Boston.”


BOSTON LOGAN INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT – 3:00 P.M. / 2000Z

Tim Morgan was standing at the printer terminal, waiting for the latest visible satellite picture to download. Tim had shown the latest weather reports to the chief pilot on duty, on an outside chance that the chief pilot would suggest canceling the flight, but he told Tim to wait and see how the situation developed. The chief pilot stated that it was important that the flight make it as far as Bangor because of the passenger load. Once there, he told Tim to re-check the Presque Isle weather report. If the weather had deteriorated to below landing minimums, wait for as long as possible before canceling. If the weather remained above published landing minimums, head to Presque Isle. The Concord Airlines meteorologists forecasted that the storm would quickly move further out into the north Atlantic and the weather situation in northern Maine would gradually improve by early evening. As the picture continued to print, Tim could see that the storm had not moved like the meteorologists had predicted. In fact, the system had not moved much at all in the last hour.
A queasy feeling ran through Tim.
“Hi Tim. Great day for flying, huh?”
Tim looked over as his co-pilot for today’s flight, Jolene Patricia (JP) Thompson, greeted him with a smile as she walked in with Flight Attendant Paula Jackson.
“Looks like the weather gets worse as we head north,” JP said. “If it continues to snow this hard at Presque Isle, they’ll close the airport long before we get there.”
“Hi, JP...hi Paula,” Tim responded. “Yeah, this one is going to be interesting.”
“Looks like we’ve got a pretty descent load for the first two legs.” Paula said while reading the passenger manifest.
“Yeah, twenty eight on the first two legs. It will probably be a bumpy ride. You may have your hands full till Bangor,” Tim said to Paula. “You may want to keep cabin service to a minimum.”
“We’ll see how it goes,” Paula responded. “You know how they are going to want their peanuts and soda. It’s the ones that want hot coffee that worry me. By the way, I’ll make sure that there are plenty of barf bags at all the seats,” she added with a laugh.
“Well…I’ll head out and pre-flight the aircraft,” JP said. “See you in a few.”
Turning quickly, JP headed out of the flight planning room and headed for the Concord Airlines SF-340 turboprop.
Tim grabbed the satellite picture and muttered something to himself. Glancing at Paula, then toward the chief pilot, Tim picked up his flight bag.
“Well, time to go flying.”

PRESQUE ISLE LOW – 5:48 P.M. / 2248Z

Laughing to himself as he watched, Craig felt a slight twinge in his stomach, glad not to be at one of the busy sectors. Even thought he had been a controller at Boston Center for over thirteen years and enjoyed working busy traffic, Craig felt contented just to sit back and relax at the Presque Isle Low altitude sector. Over the years, Craig had worked his share of rushes, thunderstorms, and emergency situations, but he felt that there were times when it was better not to get involved in a busy, complex situation. Tonight was one of those nights. Craig glanced at his radarscope, checking to see that the three aircraft on frequency were all progressing well, also noticing that Concord 3826 was now thirty miles south of Presque Isle. Staring at the data block, Craig’s mind wandered back to a particular busy night, several weeks ago.
Snow had been affecting operations at Logan airport for most of the night. New York Center needed extra in-trail spacing for aircraft landing in the metro-plex area, and staffing in the Northeast Area was low due to a couple of controllers calling in sick. Craig was not feeling that well himself, but he decided to stay at work. Plugged in and working the radar position at the Portland High altitude sector, Craig was busy with several aircraft on radar vectors, trying to get the needed spacing for New York Center. Suddenly, Craig spotted one aircraft making an unexpected turn around weather, while there was another aircraft in the area. Both aircraft were at the same altitude!
The “Conflict Alert” activated.
Quickly radioing instructions and issuing one of the aircraft an immediate turn, Craig recalled sitting anxiously waiting for the turn to take effect. Fortunately, a conflict was averted, but the time spent clearing up the situation snowballed, causing other aircraft to remain on radar vectors longer than Craig had wanted. Tensions were high as Craig radioed the already overworked pilots with reroutes, turns, and altitude changes. For several long minutes, with his heart pounding in his chest, Craig worked fast, getting the aircraft back to where he needed them to be.
Thinking of that night, Craig leaned back in his chair and watched as the other controllers in the Northeast Area were hard at work.

CONCORD 3826 – 6:26 P.M. / 2326Z

“Cleared for the approach, we’ll cancel on the ground. Thanks for your help, Boston,” JP radioed. Switching the radio over to the airport advisory frequency, JP made a quick call, knowing full well that they were the only aircraft in the vicinity.
Tim was staring intently at the flight instruments. Trying his best not to show it, the pressure of the situation was wearing on him. He knew that they had to make a successful approach. He knew that they had to get on the ground.
“Excal!” JP suddenly called out as the aircraft passed over the "outer marker." “Gear coming down!”
While the aircraft rocked in the turbulence, Tim gingerly flew the SF-340 turboprop down the glide slope. Using all of his concentration, Tim kept the indicator needles centered, airspeed right on the mark. He was vaguely aware that JP had said something, but it went unheard.
“Middle marker!…Approach lights!…I’ve got the approach lights!” JP suddenly said very loudly. “Runway…runway in sight!”
Tim looked up and could see the lead-in lights and the runway lights brilliantly illuminated a half-mile ahead of them. Tim made several control inputs to keep the aircraft lined up in the buffeting wind. JP made several altitude call outs as the aircraft flew over the runway threshold. Both pilots could see that the runway still had a considerable amount of snow and drifts on it, but it looked OK to land on.
Tim flared the turboprop for landing. Soon, the main wheels firmly touched the runway, followed quickly by the nose wheel. Tim pulled the throttles to full idle and reached for the propeller controls to put them in reverse thrust. As he did, Tim felt a wave of relief as the aircraft rolled out on the runway.
JP too, felt slightly better as she looked out the windshield.
Squinting her eyes, JP loudly caught her breath.
‘WHAT THE!…LOOK OUT!…LOOK OUT!”