As I watch the police boats and rescue helicopters combing the Potomac River in the recovery efforts for the Thursday night American Airline’s collision with the U.S. Army helicopter over the Potomac River, I think of the one person I know personally who survived a commercial airline crash. I also think of my experience of being on the 14th Street Bridge a few minutes before the Air Florida plane crashed into the bridge and the Potomac River in 1982.

In December of 1972, an Eastern Airlines plane crashed into the Florida Everglades days after Christmas. When I worked in Washington D.C., I got to know an older gentleman, James, retired from the World Bank, who was a passenger on that plane. James told us he didn’t remember the impact, but he woke up, lying in shallow water in the Florida Everglades, to flight attendants singing Christmas carols. They were yelling at passengers to join them and to stay awake. They were ordering passengers to sing with them.

Eventually, James was rescued. He contracted gangrene and lost a foot. He also lost his hearing completely in one ear and partially in the other. Apparently, the impact blew out his eardrum. He credited his survival with the flight attendants’ orders and excellent training.

Eastern Airlines later offered him a settlement and free flights for life. He wasn’t afraid to fly. In fact, he flew as often as he could as he had daughters in different locations throughout the country. To overcome the fear, he mentally used the “falling off the bicycle” analogy. He did admit that he got physically ill every time he heard of any subsequent crash, but he “made himself get back on a plane.”

My second indirect airline crash disaster was the Air Florida crash in January 1982. I was in a car and had just crossed over the Potomac on the 14th Street Bridge into Virginia 10 minutes before the crash.

Washington was experiencing a serious snowstorm. In the D.C. area, when snow hits, get ready to go nowhere fast. The roads are clogged, traffic is heavy and snowplows can’t get through.

I was working at the Chamber of Commerce of the U.S., across the street from the White House and Lafayette Park. I had taken the bus on that day as I lived 22 miles south in Woodbridge, Virginia. The only way a person could maintain their sanity to work in D.C. was to take public transportation. In my Political and Legislative Affairs Office, we started hearing that the snowstorm was going to be bad. Most of us commuted so that was bad news. One guy had driven that day. He went around the office asking who wanted to carpool home. Most people stayed in the office, hoping the buses and Metro (subway) would run. Six of us took our chances and quickly got to his car to head “south.” We had no goal as to where we were going other than to get out of the city and hope our respective spouses could pick us up somewhere. We decided our goal was Springfield Mall, about 10 miles north of our house.

Snow was falling at a rapid rate and city traffic was terrible. Traffic on the 14th Street Bridge was at a standstill and I-95 was almost completely stopped. As we were sitting in the car with snow increasing at an even more rapid rate, we saw numerous ambulances racing out of the National Orthopedic Hospital going north. Then we saw more ambulances coming straight at us in the southbound lanes going north. We all thought “there must have been a heck of an accident somewhere.”

Then we heard the news on the car radio – an Air Florida plane crashed into the 14th Street Bridge and into the Potomac. We had been stuck on that bridge, going south, about 10 minutes before that. We had few details. Then we heard there was a subway crash on the Metro subway.

Four hours and eight miles later, we were at Springfield Mall. Eventually, our spouses were able to take backroads to pick us all up. I couldn’t wait to get home to my 18-month-old daughter. It wasn’t until I got home and watched TV, about 8 p.m., that I learned more about the Air Florida crash. There was one survivor and one hero. A man from Lorton, Virginia, jumped into the Potomac to rescue a woman. The picture of him rescuing her appeared in newspapers and on TV stations worldwide. The reason for the crash was a problem with the air speed indicator following de-icing. The plane didn’t have enough air speed to clear the bridge.

Washington National Airport, now named Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport, is not a favorite of pilots. The runways are short, the noise restrictions are strong, and the air space is restricted. I’ve flown into Reagan many times. I was on a flight once that came feet within landing, then took off again at the end of the runway. That was unnerving.

Whatever the reason for the crash this week, the circumstances are very different. This was at night, the weather was clear, de-icing wasn’t an issue and this was a collision.

Even now, 53 years after the Eastern crash, when I hear of a plane crash, I think of James.

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