Close to Home
This week's airline tragedy is a somber reminder that life can change in an instant
This story starts with two similar, unremarkable photographs, both taken this morning as a cold and steady rain moved through the town where we live.
I had driven toward the water wondering what — if anything — I would see. Across a seven-mile stretch from the Woodrow Wilson Bridge to the north, emergency vehicles continued to block all entrances to the river, many of them along a path I have ridden or walked hundreds of times.
The first photo, blurred by the raindrops, was taken from inside my car on a dead-end road, the only place I could access on this dreary, bone chilling day. At the bottom you can see the final dirty remnants of a snowstorm that dumped 10 inches on Alexandria on January 6. Twenty-five mostly frigid days later, it is finally melting away.
I was putting the card into my camera and adjusting my settings when a small rescue boat went past, missing an opportunity to capture that in the image.
The second was taken a couple of minutes later, when the rain briefly slowed. I hopped out, focused the image more tightly, clicked the shutter, and jumped back in the car as another vehicle drove up behind me.
I heard the not unfamiliar but still startling sound of an airplane starting its descent as I backed out and thought of waiting for another, but the U.S. Coast Guard ship was moving slowly, and probably would have been out of the frame.
From a photography standpoint, it was an unproductive trip. From a processing standpoint, it was good to get out and see what little I could, pay my respects with a silent prayer, and return home.
Hearing the Noise
Thirty-six hours before, I was walking our dog on King Street near my wife’s former office when I heard a loud sound from a distance. At the time, I didn’t think much of it, because between the air traffic, emergency vehicles, seemingly never-ending construction, and the humming from an interstate only a few blocks from our house, you hear all types of outdoor noise around here.
Much to Penny’s chagrin, we made the turn toward home as a truck and ambulance from the Cameron Street fire station zoomed toward a call — a common occurrence that adds to the ongoing sounds we hear daily. Again, I didn’t think much of it, although I wonder what is happening every time the trucks zip by.
The first two times I came to the D.C. area — with a high school Close-Up trip and for the interview that led to us moving to Northern Virginia — were on flights that landed at Reagan National Airport. In the almost 24 years we’ve lived here, we’ve flown in and out of the airport dozens of times, including earlier this month.
That trip, a four-day sojourn to Mexico City to celebrate my 60th birthday, was followed the next weekend by a 500-mile roundtrip drive to North Carolina and then another hour-plus drive to Maryland for a church retreat. By the middle of this week, with several more things on the horizon, I was exhausted.
I went to bed without turning on the television, not knowing what had taken place or the souls that had been lost just a few miles away.
Traveling to and from DCA
Reagan National Airport, or DCA, has two major runways. The main one, which takes off and lands from the north, is the busiest in the country. The secondary one, used primarily for regional jets, is one of the shortest among major airports in the U.S. because it comes in from the south and is constricted by the Potomac River.
Add the congestion of military helicopters that constantly fly into and out of the nation’s capital, and it’s easy to see the complexities this presents.
Wednesday night’s midair collision between a military helicopter and an American Airlines passenger jet took place as the latter entered its final descent on the south side of the airport. With 67 fatalities, it is the worst in the U.S. since 9/11 and the first major commercial airline crash in the nation since 50 people were killed in Buffalo in 2009.
But safety lapses in aviation have been on the rise in recent years, a fact complicated by an ongoing shortage of air traffic controllers nationwide.
Most of our trips into and out of DCA have been smooth, but the airport also has given us its share of memorable moments. Heading to Louisville, Ky., in 2012 to see our son debut in “Billy Elliot: The Musical,” Jill and I sat on the runway on a regional jet while a derecho hit the area. On another flight, the pilot took off and managed to land on the north runway because the luggage compartment was not closed.
Both of those were exceptional circumstances, and I can remember only one other time that I white-knuckled a landing on that runway. The pilots and crews associated with DCA generally do a remarkable job and don’t get enough credit.
The investigation and the ramifications of the tragic crash this week will be felt for years to come. The cleanup will take weeks, if not months.
On Thursday, the City of Alexandria emailed residents, noting that recovery efforts will result in a “significant increase in traffic along the waterfront and potential debris in the area.” Visitors were asked to call 9-1-1 if they see anything that may be related to the crash.
In the midst of what has been a cold winter with a number of dark undertones, the announcement was a chilling reminder of the fragility of life and how it all can change in an instant.
So close to the runway. So many "if only" thoughts. The anguish of the families, and the nightmares of the guys in the tower. Mercy.