Air Florida Flight 90

A winter storm, rushed decisions, and weak training collided as Air Florida Flight 90 lifted into bad data and iced wings, then fell into the Potomac. We trace the chain of errors, the rescue that followed, and the reforms that reshaped winter flying.

• deregulation pressures and rapid growth at Air Florida 
• crew backgrounds and cockpit culture under stress 
• storm delays, flawed de‑icing, and holdover time exceeded 
• anti‑ice not used and iced probes faking healthy thrust 
• late rotation, stall, bridge impact, and river crash 
• improvised helicopter and civilian rescues in 33°F water 
• NTSB methods using audio to estimate engine power 
• industry reforms to de‑icing, instruments, and training 
• memorials honoring Arland Williams and civilian heroes

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Special thank you to Lunarfall Audio for producing and doing all the heavy lifting on audio editing since April 13, 2025, the Murder of Christopher Meyer episode https://lunarfallaudio.com/

Chapters

• 0:00 Cold Open And Setup
• 1:15 Sponsor Bit And Tone Setting
• 1:25 Deregulation And Air Florida’s Rise
• 2:09 Captain And First Officer Backgrounds
• 4:54 Storm Day Conditions In D.C.
• 6:10 De‑Icing Errors And Delays
• 8:36 Taxi, Anti‑Ice Oversights, And Takeoff
• 10:51 Impact With Bridge And River Crash
• 12:41 Rescue Attempts And Acts Of Heroism
• 15:53 NTSB Investigation And Findings
• 18:24 Industry Reforms And Training Changes
• 20:20 Memorials And Honors
• 22:24 Closing Reflections And Calls To Action

Transcript

SPEAKER_00: 0:01

Snow sucks. It's cold, it's wet, it's freezing, messing up the roads and airports, delaying travel, and generally messing up your life. And sometimes, combined with the shittiest decisions of others, it can take lives. Like on January 13th, 1982, when Air Florida Flight 90 crashed a mile after takeoff, killing nearly everyone on board. So, what happened? I'm Andrew, and this is History as a Disaster. Tonight we're diving into the Air Florida Flight 90 crash of 1982. It's nearly winter time with snow falling in the northern parts of the country, so thought it would be good to remind everyone to watch out for that nasty snow. Stay home, but don't go out in that shit. Or be smart, move someplace warmer. Tonight's episode is brought to you by the Dancing Squirrel Heater Company. Just because it's cold outside, doesn't mean you have to freeze when traveling. And with Dancing Squirrel, their highly trained squirrels will brave the cold for you to heat up the engines and make sure your car is nice and warm before you have to spend 5 seconds in the freezing air running to your car. In 1978, the US government deregulated the airline industry, which led to an increase in flights, and smaller airlines to grow bigger than before and much more rapidly. With the increase in growth, they needed more planes and more pilots, and they needed them cheaply. Those cheap tickets gotta come from somewhere. So, you get secondhand planes and third-rate pilots. You know, all the shit the major airlines don't want. And that's where Air Florida comes in, the late 70s version of Spirit Airlines. Growing out of Florida, they expanded quickly into the growing market, extending into markets their warm weather pilots and ground crews had little experience in. And speaking of secondhand planes and third-rate pilots, Flight 90 was a 13-year-old Boeing 737 bought from United Airlines in 1980 and was being flown by Captain Larry Wheaton, a 34-year-old pilot with a fair amount of aviation experience, and First Officer Roger Petit, 31 years old and relatively new to commercial aviation. Captain Wheaton had accumulated just over 8,300 flight hours, with less than 2,000 of them flying commercial and all of them with Air Florida. On May 8, 1980, this shithead was suspended after failing a Boeing 737 company line check and was found to be unsatisfactory in some pretty important areas, like adherence to regulations, checklist usage, flight procedures such as departures and autopilot usage, and approaches and landings. You know, the basics of piloting. He would go back to flying after passing a retest on August 27, 1980. Then again on April 24th, 1981, so not even a year later, he found again on a company proficiency check when he showed deficiencies in memory items, knowledge of aircraft systems, and aircraft limitations. Three days later, he satisfactorily passed a proficiency recheck. And how they let this guy fly, I will never know. Just remember this is what those cheat tickets get you. Now, first officer Roger Petit was hired by Air Florida on October 30th, 1980, as a first officer on the Boeing 737. At the time of the accident, he had just over 3,300 flight hours, a thousand of them with Air Florida, all on the 737. Before this, from October 1977 to October 1980, he had been a fighter pilot in the Air Force, gaining nearly 700 hours as a flight examiner and stricter pilot and ground instructor in an F-15 fighter jet. And by all accounts, he would have gone on to be a fine commercial pilot had he not been saddled with an incompetent shithead for a captain. Now typically, the captain and first officer would switch off who flew the flight. On the day of the accident, First Officer Petit was flying with Captain Wheaton still being in nominal command, and they would be flying with a small three-person flight crew, which consisted of senior flight attendant Donna Adams, Marilyn Nichols, and Kelly Duncan, who had all been with Air Florida from 3 to 4 years. On the day of the flight, January 13, 1982, Washington, DC was getting hammered with a ton of snow. A severe winter storm had fallen upon the region, bringing heavy snowfall that began in the early morning hours and just got worse throughout the day. By afternoon, the storm had paralyzed the city with snow accumulations that overwhelmed city services and created shitty conditions across the metropolitan area. The snowfall, along with temps near freezing, created particularly troublesome conditions for aircraft operations. Washington National Airport, which is now the Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport, that's a long fucking name to say, situated along the Potomac River, served as a critical hub for business and government travel, struggled to maintain operations under the severity of the storm. The airport's ground crews worked continuously to clear runways and taxiways, but the never-ending snowfall made their efforts futile. Each pass of the snowplows cleared paths through the snow just for fresh snow to blow in behind them and wipe out everything they'd just done. It was getting so bad it forced officials to close down throughout the day, which caused significant delays and frustrations for airlines attempting to maintain their schedules. Like Flight 90, who was scheduled to depart at 2.15, heading to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, with a quick stop in Tampa. The flight's passenger list was full of 74 relatively smart people. Now, mind you, my opinion, anyone trying to get away from the shit weather to someplace warm is pretty smart. You had business people seeking to escape the winter weather, snowbirds returning to their homes in the sunshine state, and families heading out on vacations filling the cabin. Among them you had notable passengers like Arlen Williams Jr., a 46-year-old banker from Atlanta who was traveling on business. He's notable because he would play an important part later on. This flight was having problems from the start. The Boeing 737, registered as N62AF, had arrived at Washington National Airport earlier in the day and was scheduled for a relatively quick turnaround. However, the shitty conditions created numerous delays that kept the plane on the ground for far longer than they planned. The heavy snowstorm dumped over six inches of snow on the ground. The airport temporarily suspended operations to allow ground crews to clear the runways of accumulated snow. This closure, combined with the backlog of delayed flights, meant that Flight 90 would face significant delays before it could even begin the boarding process. Not long after noon, the airport would finally reopen and resume operations, albeit at a much slower rate. Flights were being delayed by nearly two hours. Eventually, as the plane was prepped for departure, it underwent de-icing procedures while parked at the gate, which is a pretty normal procedure in cold weather. Ice on the plane is bad and can cause serious issues. However, the de-icing process itself was fucked up. During de-icing, a mix of heated water and chemicals that I'm not gonna attempt to pronounce are sprayed on the plane to melt ice and to help prevent ice from reforming on the plane. But the ground crew didn't follow proper procedures and cover up vents, ports, and pilot tubes, which could lead to ice forming in sensitive areas and fucking up sensors. Plus, there was an issue with the mixture used during the de-icing. Depending on weather conditions, different mixtures are used. Colder weather, when there's more of a risk of ice reforming, needs a stronger mix than warmer weather. They were supposed to use a 30% mix, but they used a shitty nozzle that wasn't calibrated and meant for this type of work, so the mix sprayed was closer to 18%. After de-icing, Flight 90 finally pushed back from the gate more than an hour behind schedule, and they barely made it away from the gate when the tug pulling them failed to gain traction on the ice. Once they did manage to get away from the gate, thanks to a tug with snow chains, the aircraft then joined a long line of flights waiting to take off from the snow covered airport. As the plane sat in the line with engines running, snow continued to accumulate on the wings and fuselage, which caused some concern in the cockpit. They considered getting out of line to go through de-icing again, but then they'd have to get all the way in the back of the line, which they didn't want to do, they were in a fucking hurry. So Captain Wheaton came up with a plan. They maneuvered the plane around so the hot exhaust from the DC-10 in front of them would wash over the wings and melt the ice and snow. And to his credit, this plan did work. However, it did absolutely nothing about the water that was flowing over the wings and dripping into places it should not be. Like the leading edge of the wing and over the engine pressure ratio thrust indicators. Two of the last places you want water to be. Because as soon as the wings were no longer being hit with the hot exhaust, the water refroze. So all this accomplished absolutely nothing except for making things worse. And to end all that, as they did their pre-flight checklist, they did not turn on the engine's anti-ice system. This system uses heat from the engine to prevent sensors and the cowling around the engine from icing over and fucking up the readings from the sensors. At 3 59 p.m., Flight 90 received clearance for takeoff from runway 36, the main north-south runway at Washington National. However, something just wasn't right. The engine pressure ratio gauges, which measure the thrust being produced by the engines, displayed readings that appeared normal or even slightly high. Unfortunately, Ice had partially blocked the engine inlet pressure probes, causing the gauges to provide false readings. The engines were actually pushing out significantly less thrust than the instruments indicated. First Officer Petit voiced concerns during their takeoff role, making comments about the nature of the acceleration and the instrument ratings. He knew something was wrong. He knew it on an instinctual level. Like I said before, he would have been a great pilot. Captain Wheaton, however, shrugged off his concerns and said the gauges showed everything is fine, so no need to worry. He completely blew off his concerns and relied only on what the gauges said. So he refused to abort takeoff and they continued on down the runway. And it would take them a half mile longer than normal for the plane to reach rotation speed and lift off the runway, climbing to nearly 300 feet above ground level. For a brief moment, it might have seemed that the flight would succeed despite all the challenging conditions. However, the combination of ice on the wings fucking up the airflow, the reduced power to the engines, and shitty weather conditions, it would create a situation from which they would never recover. The aircraft's angle of attack increased as it struggled to maintain altitude and the wings approached a critical angle where they would lose lift entirely. Nearly 30 seconds after liftoff, the aerodynamic forces that had been keeping Flight 90 aloft could no longer overcome everything working against the plane. The Boeing 737 began to descend. Its nose pitched up in a futile attempt to maintain altitude, while its Ashville flight path took it closer and closer toward the Potomac River below. Less than a mile from the end of the runway, the 737 struck the heavily congested 14th Street Bridge, which carried Interstate 395 across the river. The impact with the bridge occurred at 4.01 p.m. during the height of the afternoon rush hour. The plane's tail section hit six cars in a boom truck traveling across the bridge, crushing them and their passengers instantly. The collision killed four motorists on the bridge and damaged the aircraft further. But the Boeing 737 continued onward, now completely out of control and with its structural integrity compromised. It took out 97 feet of guardrail and 41 feet of the bridge's wall before it plunged into the ice-covered Potomac River, breaking through the ice barrier and sinking into the frigid water. The impact killed most of the passengers instantly. Others not so lucky became trapped in the wreckage as it sank to the bottom of the river, unable to escape. Everything but the tail section of the 737 disappeared beneath the ice. They had crashed 200 feet offshore, making any rescue attempt even more difficult in the weather conditions. The six survivors of the crash managed to cling to what was left of the tail section, fighting against the bitter cold and the swift current. Their cries for help could be heard from both shores, but the crash site's location in the middle of the river channel, plus the severe weather conditions and rush hour traffic, delayed the arrival of first responders. The survivors were now faced with a desperate race against hypothermia with water temperatures around 33 degrees Fahrenheit. Initial rescue attempts were slowed down by the difficulty in reaching the crash site. The weather had shut down many of the offices and businesses in the area, which put more cars on the road, causing further delays on the icy roads and blocking ambulances from reaching the area quickly. So they had to get creative to reach the area, driving on sidewalks and doing whatever they could to bypass the gridlock. Even so, it took over 20 minutes for ambulances to arrive. And even when they did get there, they couldn't do much. They just weren't equipped to help out. They had a serious lack of proper cold weather equipment. The freezing waters of the Potomac made reaching them by shore nearly impossible. They did try though. They tried multiple times to fashion some kind of lifeline to reach the survivors strapped in the middle of the river, but this ultimately failed. Some crazy but courageous civilians attempted to swim but were quickly driven back to shore by the freezing waters. Nearly 20 minutes after they had dropped into the river, a United States Park Police helicopter, Eagle 1, flown by pilot Donald Usher and paramedic Melvin Jean Windsor arrived. The poor visibility and gusty winds made flying difficult. The helicopter lacked specialized rescue equipment for water operations, which forced them to improvise. They had to dip real low to the water, with the skids often skimming the top, to lower a life ring attached to a line so they could attempt to drag the survivors to shore. First to be rescued was Bert Hamilton, who had been treading water about 10 feet from the plane's floating tail and closest to the chopper. Usher pulled him across the ice to shore, having to avoid the sides of the bridge the entire time. On shore, first responders and civilians worked together to pull Hamilton out of the water into the waiting ambulances. They returned to the tail section, and this time Arlen D. Williams Jr. caught the line. Williams, however, was still strapped in and trapped in the wreckage, unable to free himself. He passed the line to flight attendant Kelly Duncan, who was dragged ashore. On its third trip, the helicopter managed the second lifeline, fearing that the remaining survivors had only a few minutes before they would succumb to hypothermia. Williams again passed up on rescue, hinting one line to Joe Stilley, who was holding on to Priscilla Torado. Stilley's co-worker, Nikki Feltz, took the second line. As the helicopter pulled the three through the water and blocks of ice towards shore, both Torado and Feltch lost their grip and fell back into the water. Stiley broke multiple ribs from being slammed into the ice on his trip to shore. Priscilla was seriously injured and blinded by jet fuel and was too weak to grab the line when the helicopter returned. Congressional Budget Office Assistant Lenny Skutnik, good old Lenny, who was nearby watching, stripped off his coat and boots, and in short sleeves, dove into the icy water and swam out to successfully pull her to shore. The helicopter then proceeded to where Felch had fallen, and Gene Windsor stepped onto the helicopter skid and grabbed Felch's clothing to lift her up. Without being able to strap in, Windsor had to balance himself on the skid as he held onto her for the trip to shore. When they made the final trip out for Williams, the wreckage he was strapped into had rolled over, forcing him under the water. According to the coroner later on, he was the only passenger to die by drowning. His body and those of the other occupants were recovered days later. The NTSB immediately launched an investigation into the crash, which was aided by the recovery of the aircraft's cockpit voice recorder and flight data recorder, both of which had survived the crash and provided crucial evidence about the flight's final minutes. The cockpit voice recorder showed that First Officer Petit had expressed concerns about the ice accumulation and odd readings, and that Captain Wheaton had just, you know, blown him off because he's a shithead. They figured out that the engines had been producing less than normal takeoff thrust, despite the gauges showing everything was fine, and it was pretty interesting on how they figured that all out. Because due to the limitations of early 80s technology, the flight data recorders in fact did not supply a whole lot of data. They had to get an audio engineer involved to isolate the sounds of the engines in the background from the voice recorder and compare them to the sounds of an engine running at full thrust. They then used a piece of tape to block the pressure gauge to simulate an ice blockage, and from there figured out ice had most likely been responsible for throwing up the false readings. Examination of weather data and the timeline of events revealed that 49 minutes had passed between the completion of de-icing procedures and the plane's takeoff. During this time, snow had continued to accumulate on the plane's critical surfaces, and the process of melting and refreezing had created an ice contamination that compromised the wing's ability to generate lift. The investigators determined that a layer of ice estimated only a quarter to a half inch thick on the wing's leading edge had been enough to disrupt the airflow to prevent the aircraft from maintaining altitude. The investigation also uncovered failures in Air Florida's training programs and procedures regarding winter weather operations. Many other pilots, having been trained and operated primarily in warm weather environments, lacked adequate experience and training for severe winter conditions. In fact, at the time, Captain Wheaton had only eight takeoffs and landings in winter conditions, and First Officer Petit had only two. The company's procedures for de-icing and anti-icing were found to be inadequate, and the time limits for the effectiveness of de-icing fluids were not properly emphasized to crews. The NTSB would issue multiple recommendations based on these findings. Recommendations like the development and implementation of improved de-icing and anti-icing procedures? The industry developed holdover timetables that specified precisely how long various types of de-icing fluids remained effective under different weather conditions. Airlines were now being required to adhere to these time limits, and procedures were established to require returning to de-icing facilities if these times were exceeded. They would also develop new types of de-icing fluids that would provide longer protection against ice, and techniques for applying these fluids were standardized across the industry. The FAA would also mandate the installation of improved engine instruments that would be less susceptible to ice contamination. Engine inlet pressure probes were redesigned and relocated to reduce the risk of ice blockage. Pilots also received better training to recognize the subtle signs of reduced engine performance that might not be immediately apparent from instrument readings. Greater emphasis was also placed on using multiple indicators of engine performance rather than relying on just, you know, a single instrument. The crash would also lead to improved emergency response procedures for water accidents near airports. The difficulties they encountered during the rescue operation prompted reviews of emergency response capabilities and led to improvements in coordination between airport authorities, local emergency services, and federal agencies. Airports near bodies of water enhanced their emergency response plans and equipment to better handle water rescues. In the aftermath of the crash, the repaired span of the 14th Street Bridge over the Potomac River at the crash site, then named the Rochamboo Bridge, was renamed the Arlen D. Williams Jr. Memorial Bridge in honor of the passenger who repeatedly passed the life ring before dying. The Citadel in South Carolina, where he graduated in 1957, has several memorials to him also. In 2003, the new Arlen D. Williams Jr. Elementary School was dedicated to him in his hometown of Mattoon, Illinois. Roger Olean and Lenny Skutnik received the Coast Guard's Gold Lifesaving Medal, along with Williams Jr., who got it posthumously. Skutnik was introduced to the joint session of the U.S. Congress during President Ronald Reagan's State of the Union speech later that month. The Coast Guard awarded a silver lifesaving medal to the two crewmen of Eagle One. As the U.S. Park Police are part of the United States Department of the Interior, pilot Donald Usher and paramedic Melvin Windsor also received the Interior Department's Balor Award, presented in a special ceremony by Secretary of the Interior James G. Watt. Usher later became a superintendent of the National Park Service Law Enforcement Training Center, located in Brunswick, Georgia, before he retired in December of 2012. Roger Olean, Lenny Skutnik, Donald Usher, and Melvin Windsor would all receive the Carnegie Hero Fund Medal. Kelly Duncan, the only surviving flight attendant, was recognized in the NTSB accident report for her unselfish act of giving the only life best she could find to a passenger. And that was the crash of Air Florida Flight 90. Thanks for listening, and if you liked the show, please consider leaving a rating or review on your ethical choice. And you can reach out to the show at histories of disaster at gmail.com with questions, comments, or suggestions. As well as following the show on social media like Facebook or Instagram, TikTok, YouTube, whatever. And share the episode. Your friends will love it. Also, take care of yourself out there. Chase that dream live for today. Because tomorrow is never guaranteed. Thanks and goodbye.