In case of emergency...

At about 12:18, the pilot of Alaskan Airlines Flight 236 (originating from Portland and going via San Francisco to the lovely destination of Los Cabos, Mexico) came over the loud speaker and told us that we were indeed making good time, and that we would be landing 20-30 minutes early. This was good news indeed. Nicole and I were looking forward to getting to Los Cabos in time to not only check out the hotel, but at least some of the exotic local scenery. There was a formal dinner waiting for us at 7 p.m. that night, and it would be good to look around, drink in the stunning views and then still have time to leisurely get ready.

About 10 minutes later, the pilot came back on and said the following sentence:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, there is a problem with the electrical system on the planes. It’s not an emergency, but we do have to land to get it fixed. So we’re going to be landing in about 15-20 minutes in Laredo, Mexico. Once we get on the ground, we’ll tell you your options.”

There was some slight groaning from passengers. The flight attendant told us that there was a plane about 2 hours behind us that was going to pick us up and take us the rest of the way to Los Cabos. People groaned again.

We got off the plane and walked across the tarmac to the smallest terminal I have ever seen. The entire terminal consisted of two room, and the entire place was about half the size of a high school gym. The line to go through customs snaked outside. The only other planes around were two-seater prop planes. They looked comically dwarfed by our massive 737, like a scuba diver swimming next to a whale or Joe Lieberman standing next to Chewbacca.

There wasn’t enough seating in the lounge area so most people spilled outside, and sat under a pagoda in the shade. Nicole and I sat in the lounge. A lady came on over the PA and told us that we would be receiving vouchers from Alaskan airlines for drinks. The only place to get drinks was a miniscule little stand in the lounge area. The man had a small cooler that held about 10 soft drinks, and had another cooler that had about 10 beers in it. Behind him was a shelf that held several different varieties of Doritos and Ruffles. That was about it.

As 100 people with vouchers swarmed to his stand, you could almost see a light go on in his head. I do not know if the man running the tiny stand ever took a course in microeconomics, but he certainly understood the idea of a “closed system.” High demand, limited inventory. Soon, beers were going for six bucks a pop. Bags of chips inflated almost instantly from 50 cents to 3 dollars. It was fascinating to watch. I was able to get – with our 12 dollars worth of vouchers – a bag of Cheetos and a bottle of water for my pregnant wife. Not exactly the kind of nutrition I was hoping for.

The plane wasn’t 2 hours behind us. It was six hours behind us – Alaskan airlines had to fly an empty plane all the way from Seattle. And so we waited until about 7 p.m before our plane finally arrived. We got on it, and less than an hour later, we were in Los Cabos. Our

But there were some nagging questions in my head. The captain had told us that it wasn’t an emergency. But...

• If this wasn’t an emergency, why would Alaskan Airlines strand 100 people in a miniscule airport for six hours – paying 600 dollars for vouchers and probably thousands more in compensation if this really weren’t an emergency.


• If this wasn’t an emergency, why would pilots land a plane in a miniscule airport in Laredo, when our final destination was a mere 25 more minutes south?


• If this wasn’t an emergency, why would a pilot land a plane in an airport like Laredo where there was clearly not the infrastructure, parts or mechanics to fix much of anything?


• If this wasn’t an emergency, when we got off the plane, why did the pilots look so frazzled. One was nervously putting his tie back on and the white collar of the other pilot was wet from sweat.

It just didn’t make sense to me. The journalist in me wanted to know more facts. So after several hours of not having anything to do except dig for facts, we finally found out what actually happened.

About 10 minutes after the pilot made the announcement that we’d be landing early, a light went on in the pilot’s cabin. It was a light indicating that the APU had failed. Now, normally when I see “APU” I think about a small Indian man running a Quicki-Mart, but it also stands for “Auxiliary Power Unit.” It is the system that provides power to all the plane’s electrical components. I didn’t know this, but one of the guys on the plane (Doug) was in the Air Force and told me that on a 737-400, when that light comes on, you have exactly one hour to get on the ground. I’m not sure what happens if you don’t, but I imagine that losing all power to all electrical components is not a good thing.

So the plane had to do an emergency landing.

Of course, the pilot didn’t tell us this. He told us that it wasn’t an emergency. And I suppose, it really wasn’t. The plane’s systems were still functional. And as long as we got on the ground in 60 minutes, we’d be fine.

But still. When you have a systems failure that causes you to pick the closest airport and get on the ground NOW, that’s about as close to an actual emergency that I would like to be.

To make matters a little worse, the only airport before Cabo was a small airport in the miniscule town of Laredo, Mexico. It was a short runway, however, and made for small planes – not mammoth airliners.

To land on a short runway – again, thanks to Doug, the former Air Force guy for this info – you have to come in faster than you do if you have a long runway. Then you slam on the brakes, turn on the reverse thrusters (basically, reversing the engines) and you stop. So you have to approach faster and stop faster.

One problem – the problem with the APU meant that the plane didn’t have any reverse thrusters. So the pilots had to land this plane perfectly, slam on the brakes, and make sure to stop before the runway ended. They did, but as we got off the plane, Doug looked at the brakes. They were white-hot and still smoking from the friction.

This was not a routine flight. I’m just glad we didn’t end up like this: