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My water bottle seems to be under extra pressure when I open it inflight. Are the tires under pressure too, and do they expand much? Your water bottle experiences the result of a depressurization of its exterior as the cabin pressure decreases during climb. The interior air seems to be of a higher pressure. Of course, that is all going on inside the cabin where the cabin pressure is still about 8,000 feet at cruising altitude. However, the tires are never in a pressurized environment. When at 41,000 feet, they are nearer to space than on the ground in terms of pressure. ("Hey, what about the Space Shuttle tires?" Same as airliner tires. In fact, I think they use the same tires we do.) Filled to over 100 pounds per square inch on the ground, if they weren't strong, they'd explode for sure at altitude. The key is how they are made. Car tires have a couple of belts to add strength and durability to the tire. Otherwise, side loads and direct loads would pop the tire or push it off the wheel rim. The rubber used for tread has little strength. Some supporting structure must take the load of the vehicle. This structure is called the "carcass" of the tire. Light truck and SUV tires have 4 plies to add the strength needed to handle the stress they encounter holding up a bigger vehicle. To handle the weight of a jetliner like the 737, the tires have 28 plies! These tires are so strong they can handle the punishment of landing and braking as well as the strain under pressure at cruise altitude. With the Aramid fiber used in tires having more strength than steel (pound for pound), I doubt the tires expand too much at altitude. The tire "carcass" is so strong that it allows the airline to retread the tire several times to get better life out of them and keep the cost much lower than buying new tires all the time. You see the importance of this when you watch an airplane land because the "smoke" you see arising from the tires is vaporized tire tread. It doesn't take long before there is no tread left (and tires are inspected every time a Pilot does a walk around), but again, the steel-like carcass of the tires is what supports them. ... View more

This is the final installment in Captain Ray Stark's springtime trip report.  To view the first day, click here, and for the previous day, click here.  (To enlarge photos, click on the picture.) Day 3: Five Legs To Phoenix (Louisville to St. Louis to Tulsa to Las Vegas to San Diego to Phoenix) By the time we arrive at the airport in Louisville (SDF), it is just getting light. Before leaving my hotel room, I spent time looking at the moving weather display on the Weather Channel. Two days ago I was concerned about today's leg through Tulsa (TUL). The weather depiction indicates the line has broken, and TUL appears to be in the clear! After that, weather is no longer an issue. Our radar summary is below: Louisville to St. Louis:  The flight to St. Louis (STL) is a quick one with light chop. The weather we dealt with yesterday has rotated slowly north and west, as if pushed by a huge hand. STL is still under cloudy skies and it is raining lightly but this presents no problem for our arrival. En route, I notice the winds down low are exactly 90 degrees to the 95 knot jet stream winds aloft. More possibility of tornados. We get into STL early, and I have time to wander over and chat with an old Air Force buddy who is a SWA Captain. I heard his distinctive voice inbound to STL. Funny thing about this airline life: I last saw Bruce walking through the terminal about three years ago, and we chatted for a couple of minutes. We are such a big Company now that you can go for years and not see someone, even in your own base. St. Louis to Tulsa:   The leg to TUL goes about as painlessly as the previous one. We taxi out to the end of the runway, check the radar, and blast off toward TUL. We climb painfully slowly because of crossing traffic, avoidance vectors by Air Traffic Control (ATC) for traffic conflicts a few miles down range, congested airspace, and just plain busy controllers. While Scott is flying, I am running the radios, talking to ATC, checking the weather in TUL, doing performance data for our landing in TUL, and trying to beg a shortcut out of ATC, once clear of traffic. By the time I get my chores done and have a moment to stretch, Scott has us leveled off at 34,000 feet (aka Flight Level 340 or FL340). Throughout the flight we experience light chop and have kept all passengers seated. From our vantage point we can see both chunks of the weather system displayed on the map (above) and feel lucky to have such a wide passage to get through en route to Tulsa. About 80 miles out, ATC advises us of an area of heavy precipitation right in front of us. We see it, but it is well below our altitude. Another example of the limitations of the ground based radar ATC uses. It doesn't see weather very well. Thank God for airborne weather radar. We get some moderate chop as we pass, and put the Flight Attendants down yet again. The jet stream winds passing 20,000 feet are almost 100 knots, which is a lot for this low altitude. Yet another indication tornados are still a possibility in this area, should that weather down south move up this way. The arrival into TUL is far more rapid than the climb out of STL, and we soon find ourselves on final to Runway 18L.  We push five minutes late in TUL. The actual flight planned flight time is less than scheduled so we should arrive in LAS a few minutes early. After another minor bout of chop and wave action over the Front Range of the Rockies, we are back into smooth air and enjoy the ride as we pass the Grand Canyon just north of Flagstaff, AZ.  The picture below shows the view to the north, and you can see the Colorado River cutting its way down into the canyon (upper right) as it passes out of Glen Canyon Dam at the southwestern edge of Lake Powell. The next picture is but a part of the rest of the canyon, looking northwest. You can see Grand Canyon Airport on the lower left and see the Lodge at the south rim lookout at the edge of the canyon. Too much scenery to gather into even two pictures. As we make our arrival into sunny LAS, the approach controllers change our runway to 19L. This means we will fly adjacent to the Strip on approach to the airport. As we cross the western edge of lake Mead about 25 miles west of LAS, we see the lakeside view of Hoover dam. Behind the dam are the towers marking the location of the dam bypass bridge currently under construction. Note the white "tub ring" around the far lake edge. Lake Mead is down some 90 feet from its normal high and currently reportedly holds only 70 percent of capacity. This is a visual measure of the decade-long drought affecting the Southwest. Just out of the picture to the right is one of the main boat ramps into Lake Mead. The lake shore has retreated there nearly three-fourths of a mile since the drought began. A minute or so later, we are crossing yet another boat ramp and marina now high and dry. Now on Approach ATC frequency, and with the Stratosphere Tower in sight, we are cleared for the visual approach to 19L. We can easily see this tower from across town and proceed directly toward it before turning left to land. Then a left turn to the runway... As I turn final to land, off to our right after the Stratosphere is the Strip. Hard to believe this place was a spot in the road back in the '40s. We land and head to our gate about ten minutes early. At this point in the day we are scheduled for an airplane swap with an hour and a half "airport appreciation" time before taking another plane to San Diego (SAN) and then home to Phoenix (PHX). Both Scott and I have dinner plans with our wives, so light snacking is on order for our wait in LAS. LAS-SAN:  Having flown three legs in a -700, we now pile into a -300 and make our nests yet again. Scott is once again driving, and we take off to SAN  and enjoy a nice smooth and relaxing leg to San Diego. Just south of LAS, we pass over a dry lakebed where someone has been busy cutting major high-speed cookies on the lake floor. One rain and they will be all gone. As we arrive into SAN, we are greeted by a beautiful spring Saturday. The bay is full of sailboats, and the view is incredible. A better view in closer as Scott flies a perfect approach. As usual. We land in SAN and pull into the gate knowing we have only one more leg to go. The Operations Agent who meets us informs us we are involved in a no-notice aircraft swap, so we get to fold up our tent and move to yet another plane. However, this new plane is running about 15 minutes late. We drag our bags to another jetbridge and wait with the passengers in the boarding area. When our plane arrives, we are greeted by the same two Pilots who brought us our plane in LAS. The delay has been caused by a failed Standby Artificial Horizon (ADI). The LAS Maintenance personnel have no spare ADI in stock for the 737-700, so the only way to get it fixed expeditiously is to get it to PHX where they have a spare ADI. Otherwise, the plane must be taken out of service awaiting a part to be flown in. This would mean lengthy passenger delays and possibly cancellations. The Federal Aviation Administration-approved Minimum Equipment List (MEL) allows for certain equipment to be inoperative and still maintain the aircraft as airworthy. The MEL says you can fly the plane as long as you don't fly above any cloud layers. (The Standby ADI allows you to fly through weather if the two main ADIs fail.) Today, our Standby ADI will be the big blue sky, as there is not a cloud in sight between SAN and PHX. The same cannot be said for the rest of the country.  As we turn over the Pacific heading south and then east to PHX, we are greeted with a stunning view of the lower San Diego Bay. Another reason why no other job has a better view than this one. We land in PHX about 60 hours after our initial departure. We have flown approximately 5,500 miles through an unfolding weather picture causing havoc across the Midwest. In eleven legs, we have been airborne over 18 hours. We have flown three real approaches in weather and each time, sighted the airport  prior to 1,000 feet above the ground. In all the turbulence and wave action, rain and atmospheric tumult, no Crew Member or passenger has been injured. No metal has been bent, and we actually saved gas and time over what was scheduled. We have flown over 850 of Southwest's Customers to their destinations safely and as smoothly as possible. And in a week, barely a thought of this week will remain in my brain because this week was absolutely routine and typical of what domestic Flight Crews face in their weekly flying schedules. Southwest launches over 3,200 flights a day and most resemble one of these flights Scott and I flew this week. If you were a little bored reading all these details, that is partly the intent of this story. Many people have worked hard since the Wright brother's first flight to make flying through the air a routine and safe operation. If reading this made you a little tired, that is understandable. Many of the trips flown by SWA Crews are four days long. Now you know why we really appreciate having a few days off to recharge before the next trip. Traveling takes its toll on you. We Crew Members get somewhat used to traveling but nothing is like home. Dorothy was so right about that. ... View more

This is the second installment of Captain Ray Stark's springtime trip report.  To read the first installment, click here.  (To enlarge the photos, click on the picture.) Day Two: Three Legs To Louisville On this day we are blessed with a nifty 737-700. The 700 can fly higher and faster than the older 737-300 and 500 models. Today, both of these attributes will be handy to have in our bag of tricks. The line of weather we will face is clear of one of our destinations but skirting the first two. The weather map with which we are greeted  shows weather between us and Houston (HOU). As you can see, the tops of some of these storms already reach into the 48,000 foot range and that is only about an hour after the sun has risen over Texas.  And, you can see by the arrows indicating the direction of movement, these tall storms will be trying to cross our path enroute to HOU. Isolated thunderstorms are pretty easy. They are the tallest variety and show up well on radar. Like trees in your path, you simply go around them. Embedded thunderstorms are a little trickier. Moisture attenuates (weakens) the radar signal going out and coming back to the antenna. That means your ability to discern details in what lays ahead is somewhat harder than when you can paint a crisp image of the thunderstorm on your radar and then back up what you see on the scope by looking out the front window. And, in the Boeing 737-700, the weather radar display overlays on your moving map which shows your route of flight. That makes weather avoidance really easy. Today we are fortunate. The large isolated storms to our south are out of our way. The embedded system to the north of our route is just barely out of our planned route. We end up deviating off the flight planned path for about ten minutes and are then cleared directly to San Antonio to start the arrival into HOU. As we pass the huge weather mass to our left, the Air Traffic Control (ATC) Center frequency we are working on at the time is Ft. Worth Center. We advise them of what we are looking at knowing full well we both know that system is headed their way. The Weather Channel is forecasting one to one and one-half inches of rain later that evening which will most likely cause flooding. We mention to ATC the 90 degree difference between the jet stream at 109 knots and the lower level winds moving northeasterly at 40 knots. Another perfect recipe for tornados. When we switch to Houston Center, we wish the Ft. Worth controller "Good luck tonight." He responds sincerely, "Thanks." Here is what we see bearing down on Dallas. It is 7:30 A.M. and the clouds are already above us at 41,000 feet. Wow. As we approach San Antonio, we see two small-diameter storms right over the city. Our route of flight will take us between them but the fit is a little tight for comfort so we ask and are granted clearance to deviate to the south around the two. Also, I call the Flight Attendants and get them busy picking up the cabin because the reports by ATC are that the ride is very bumpy in the latter stages of the descent. Passing these two storms, we are glad we sat everyone down because the ride gets pretty choppy and remains that way until about 12,000 feet. We land in Houston under overcast clouds and pick up the runway three miles out at 1000 feet. Day 2: Leg 2 Houston to St. Louis We check the weather picture for St. Louis (STL) and the line appears to be west of the airport and moving northeast. The latest airport weather for STL is partly cloudy with no rain. The radar summary below shows STL in the clear-for the moment. The climb out of HOU is smooth, unlike the ride on the west side of town. Nearing our cruising altitude, ATC sees a hole in the traffic and sends us direct to the start of the arrival into STL. Also at this time, Scott pulls up the latest weather for STL and this is what we see: Translation: STL information ZULU indicates winds from 350 degrees at 12 gusting to 16 knots (light winds actually-right down the runway), visibility of one and one-half statute miles, heavy thunderstorms and rain showers (+ TSRA), a few (scattered) clouds at 1,400 feet, overcast above at 4,300 feet above the airport, 17 degrees centigrade (63 degrees F), altimeter 30.21 inches, and we can expect Runway 30R via the ILS (Instrument Landing System) approach. Not the sunny day we had hoped for, but in the two hours it takes us to get there, I am betting it will change. (At least the "+" on the thunderstorm thingie.) In the last hour prior to our arrival into STL, the ATIS (Automated Terminal Information System-the weather screen displayed earlier as ZULU) changes four times due to rapidly changing weather conditions. Normally, it updates at the top of the hour. As we start the arrival over Cape Girardeau, Missouri, we can now paint the rain showers on our radar. The tops of the clouds are fairly low, and that is good because that means less likelihood that there are thunderstorms imbedded in the clouds between us and the runway. Also, though the radar indicates plenty of moisture aloft, the moisture does not appear well defined-the main indication of thunderstorm presence. Thunderstorms appear with well-defined contours starting in green bands, turning to yellow, all surrounding a red core (indicating heavy moisture). As you can see in the picture to the right, the radar picture on approach just beyond the airport is red but very blotchy. The little parallel white lines represent the runways at STL, and you can see the 30L in white lettering as well. Out the windows ahead, we see the picture below. Notice the darkness in the distance. We break out and sight the runway about five miles out in light rain. On Tower frequency, we can hear planes being cleared for takeoff with instructions for an immediate left turn to avoid the weather. Our planned departure will take us to the right, but that can change, if need be. After we land and pull into the gate, the rain starts to build as another finger of this storm passes over the airport. As for what we face on our departure, we can only wait and see once we taxi out to the runway and look at what the radar shows. Day 2: Leg 3 St. Louis to Louisville  (The last leg) Inbound to STL, we extensively painted the weather in the area. Calling "Mom" (Dispatch in Dallas) for their radar feed would yield little information about the rapidly changing conditions on the field in STL.  We load up and head out for the runway. As we are cleared into position on the runway, Tower inquires if we are ready to go. We ask for a minute to look at the radar. Below is what we seeout the window: The radar summary we have (see below) shows the line has moved over STL but not by much. We should be able to blast east and get out of the weather in minutes. (Take a look at what has happened to the system we passed only a few hours earlier in central Texas!!!) Tower asks us if we can fly runway heading into the weather, and based on the radar picture we have, which is nearly identical to the arrival picture, we suggest an immediate right turn would be better, but we can coordinate that with Departure ATC. (In an emergency, we can do what we need to do and coordinate with ATC as time permits.) A previous aircraft has departed that direction and has not complained-yet. Cleared for takeoff, we blast into the rain and are surprised by a very smooth ride and no thunderstorms visible ahead on the radar. In a couple of miles, Departure ATC clears us to turn to the southeast toward Louisville (SDF). Passing 20,000 feet, we are out of the weather and in clear air. The ride is still a little choppy downwind of the weather system. Because of the short nature of the flight (35 minutes), I call the Flight Attendants who are seated because of the potentially bumpy departure and cancel cabin service. The FA's will remain seated. The landing minutes later in SDF is under clear skies and 75 degree temperatures. We give the plane to two Pilots headed toward Tampa, FL. Off we go to the hotel. ... View more

Captain Ray Stark sent us a rather long, but very interesting trip report about flying in springtime weather from one of his recent trips.  (His report refers to a storm system that is different than the one much of the nation experienced on the weekend of April 13. We will be splitting it into three posts--one for each day of the trip, and we will post a new installment next week.  (As always, click on the pictures to enlarge.) On The Road Again.... It is the day before I leave on a three-day trip. I turn on the morning news, and I see pictures of a mobile home that has been picked up by a tornado and stuffed into a treetop nearby. The frame is bent around the trunk of the tree. Scenes of devastation and tales of injury and death detail the march of a huge line of weather stretching from Laredo, Texas up to Minneapolis. A late spring cold system from the Northwest is bulging down into the central US, running into warm moist air. To make matters worse, the slower moving low-level air that is feeding the moisture into Texas from the southwest is overlaid by a jet stream wind of 100 miles per hour from the northwest--a 90 degree difference. Just the recipe for the tornado damage I have seen on TV. Colorado has been hit. Clovis, New Mexico has been hit hard. And the worry is that Dallas and Oklahoma City lie in the path of these storms. Sixty tornadoes have been sighted today along this line of weather. Hmmm? Where am I headed this week? A look at my schedule shows the first leg is out of Phoenix (PHX) to Kansas City (MCI) and back to PHX. Then over to Albuquerque (ABQ) for the night. Day two will take me three legs to Louisville, Kentucky (SDF) via Houston (HOU) and St. Louis (STL). The final day is back to STL, down to Tulsa (TUL), out to Las Vegas (LAS), down to San Diego (SAN), and then home to Phoenix (PHX) on Saturday afternoon. If this line of weather moves as slowly as the Weather Channel forecasts, I will pass through this line not once, but four separate times. Day One: At 2:45 A.M., I awaken early and stare at my alarm clock. Time to get the show on the road. Two hours later, I walk into the darkened crew lounge, the first to arrive this morning. I am not alone though. A couple of Pilots who arrived a few hours earlier on late-night terminators nap while waiting for their early morning deadhead flights home. Not worth getting a hotel for three or four hours.... I turn on the lounge TV only to be greeted by more pictures of devastation as a result of this storm. I turn on another TV which displays the Weather Channel and there I can see the strengthened line of weather. My hopes that the line would have dissipated have not been fulfilled. The moving weather depiction shows the weather just west of MCI and heading toward the airport. Hopefully, we can arrive (and depart) before the worst of it arrives. Tornadoes usually form on the southwest edge of a thunderstorm, so we have some time as the line is moving very slowly. Arriving at the jet, I grab the latest weather packet provided by our Ops Agent and the radar summary echoes what we saw on the Weather Channel. You can see the dark band of moisture in the radar map below. The dark arrows I drew in indicate the direction the moisture is moving. The dashed line is basically our route of flight. The dot on the right side of the weather is the MCI Airport. (RW means rainshower. TRW means thunderstorms and rainshowers.) I call Dispatch (aka "Mom") in Dallas and my Dispatcher confirms what I have already gleaned from TV about the system moving through Kansas City. Based on our passenger load, we have room for extra gas so we opt to load a little more on just in case we need to end up holding while the weather moves through MCI. Our alternate is Tulsa which is also about to get rained on, and Mom advises that St. Louis is a better alternate, well clear of the weather. Armed with all the latest information, we push back for MCI. Our departure this morning will take us to the east off Runway 7L. This means we will stare right into the rising sun on takeoff. Tower has to watch planes landing so they prefer to look away from the sun all day. We only have to do it once. Winds permitting, they will always launch into the sunrise or sunset. That is why we call them "controllers." As soon as we can, we request a turn with Air Traffic Control (ATC) on departure to get the fireball out of our eyes and head directly toward the arrival fix for MCI.  Upon level off, the ride is smooth, so we let the passengers up and point out sights as we cross eastern Arizona. About 30 minutes after takeoff, ATC calls with reports of choppy rides over the front range of the Rocky Mountains. As a precaution, I turn the FASTEN SEAT BELT sign on and advise the folks to grab a seat. In ten minutes we are not only in the reported chop but, as we cross the Front Range, we experience wave action with occasional moderate bumps.  The first airliner to experience this, we call ATC and report our ride experience to all on frequency. Several aircraft inquire about our exact location in relation to theirs. Pilot Reports (PIREPS) are the best way to find out what Mother Nature has in store ahead. After 15 minutes of potholes, we are once again in smooth air. I let the passengers up, knowing the last part of the ride will probably see everyone strapped in quite early in the descent due to the weather west of MCI. I briefed the Flight Attendants of this possibility when I gave them my pre-flight briefing before boarding passengers in PHX. About 45 minutes out from MCI we can see the tops of the weather system forecast to hammer the Midwest later today. Due to the curvature of the earth, the cloud tops were hiding out of sight over the horizon as we left PHX. We can now start to see the mass of moisture in our path. We turn on the radar and try to get a "paint" on any thunderstorm activity, but radar only shows weather with any certainty at about 180 miles. Outside that range, we keep close watch on the radar for any indication of convective activity. About 100 miles out, we begin to see a little moisture in the air but between us and MCI, but no apparent thunderstorms. We get a report of the choppy ride in the descent and have the Flight Attendants pick up the cabin early and take their seats. Passing 16,000 feet, we break out between layers and see rapidly building clouds that will soon be thunderstorms. Ridges form where the lower turbulence "folds" the clouds, indicating instability in the air. Here is what we see in the midst of what should be thunderstorms: This view matches the latest weather advisory from MCI, and as we pass through these clouds, we get some good moderate bumps. Still, they are almost invisible to the radar as they contain little real moisture. MCI airport weather: winds from the south at 15mph, towering cumulus (baby thunderstorms), and a temperature of 60 degrees-much different than I had pictured the night before. But then as they say, I'd rather be lucky than good any day. Now, let's get out of here. MCI-PHX This kind of flight is easy. It is the reverse of the route we just flew, so we know the weather nearly every step of the way. We know things may have built a little taller or gotten a little bumpier, but we know what we are up against with a fairly high degree of certainty. During boarding, an elderly lady professes her fear of turbulence. Scott tells her what we will experience on the way out, and we remind her that the bumps are just "potholes in the sky." She looks at us like we are crazy. I get that look quite often, it seems. I brief the Flight Attendants to stay seated until we call, expecting more of that moderate bumpiness as we climb through the low-level clouds. My First Officer, Scott, is flying us back, and he tells the passengers what the ride will be like and why we are delaying cabin service. Our departure track will be about ten miles further south than our arrival track inbound. The clouds immediately to the west are building rapidly. During climbout, we manage to miss most of the really bumpy stuff and pop out on top about 15 minutes after liftoff. Approaching the Front Range, the bumps are less than what we experienced on the way out. Our arrival into PHX is uneventful. The lady who worried about the turbulence sticks her head into the cockpit as she deplanes and tells Scott she really enjoyed the flight. Now for a short one to ABQ. Every year, a SWA Captain is required to complete both a simulator check and a line check. On the line check, an Federal Aviation Adminitration-designated Southwest Airlines Check Airman rides on our jumpseat and watches our every move. I have looked at my schedule, and I expect this may be one of three possible legs a Check Airman rides with us. Sure enough, as we start boarding, one of our Check Airmen enters the cockpit and announces he will observe on this leg to ABQ. During this flight, I will make about 500 decisions about what, how, and when I do each task to get this plane 350 miles to the gate in ABQ. Even my verbal responses are subject to critique. After exchanging pleasantries, we buckle in and take off. The climb and cruise are in clear skies, but the descent into ABQ will take us through some clouds during descent. Ever cautious with our Flight Attendants, I play it safe and sit them down early in the descent-just in case. The ride during descent is lightly choppy but better to have them seated and wish they were up than have them up and wish they were seated. That I learned long ago. On final about 12 miles out, my HUD (heads up display) shows a 15-knot tailwind. In turbulence on final, the wind indicator is bouncing all over the place indicating convection turbulence in the ABQ area. I get another wind check from ABQ Tower to make sure the ground winds haven't changed significantly. Though landings are not usually graded, I manage to squeak on a good landing for my line check. (If you are gonna do a good one, that is one of the times you want to do so.)  Arriving at the gate, we shutdown the engines and complete our shutdown checklists. I then turn to the Check Airman and ask, "Suggestions? Comments? Critiques?" He responds, "I have nothing for you guys. Great job." As he departs to catch another flight back to PHX, I think, "What a nice guy." You can always find something to critique. It is the measure of an exceptional Check Airman to not nit-pick every last detail. After all, most Pilots will get no tougher critique than from themselves. Off to the hotel we go. ... View more

My dad used to say takeoff was the easiest part of flying: "Go fast. Pull up." After doing several thousand of them, I agree. The plane's configuration doesn't change (except for retracting the landing gear, which are useless during flight) until it's well away from the ground. Newer, more powerful engines, make the acceleration quicker, and that makes the whole process safer. The faster you get to flying speed, the faster you get airborne. Faster acceleration also means that, in the event the Pilot wants to stop (abort) the takeoff, more runway is left on which to stop. Those powerful engines allow us to climb out of the low-level bumps brought on by summer heat, and it lets the plane quickly climb above most of the weather ahead. Power is a good thing. You can't have "too much." The only surprise might be wake turbulence from a jet departing ahead. It can be startling, but it is no threat at all to your plane. Until someone figures out how to see air, wakes will always be out there to surprise us. Takeoff pitch angle startles some, but the Pilots rotate the aircraft to a very precise climb angle. (We have to rotate to about 20 degrees to avoid placing too much stress on the flaps.)  If you look outside and it seems the plane is slowing down, you have been duped. The perceived slowing of the plane is due to the fact that it is getting farther away from the ground--the only reference you have.  In fact, the plane is speeding up throughout the process. Another reason people think the pitch angle is so steep is because the Otolith organs in your inner ear lie to you under hard acceleration and make you feel like you are going uphill. Upon landing with all the braking that goes on, you feel like you are going downhill. Watch the front of the cabin during takeoff and landing and see if you can catch your balance system fibbing to you. More about takeoffs: I don't like the feeling of leaving ground especially when the plane shakes. Some take off's are better than others, why is that? The plane will shake. Some runways are rough. After takeoff ,the plane shudders and shakes if it is in any wake turbulence from the plane ahead (almost a given at today's busy airports). Your first clue of wake turbulence is when one wing drops sharply and seems to hang there a couple of heartbeats. Nothing to worry about--it's just rough air emanating from each wingtip. Since air can't be seen, Pilots can only guess where the rough air is. Even if you are in smooth air, you can feel the landing gear turbulence hit the tail as the gear retracts into the fuselage. This turbulence shakes the back of the plane and then disappears as the gear settles into the well located in the wing and belly. Gear turbulence is worse if the Pilot climbs the aircraft steeply, as one often does trying to avoid the wake from the preceding plane. I don't try to force the rotation of the aircraft, I simply let her fly off by herself. She'll go when she is good and ready. No need to rush her. A slow rotation makes the takeoff very gentle, and other than the forward acceleration, which can be rather brisk, the airplane accelerates away from the ground very gently. Initial climb rates are as high as 6,000 feet per minute. That's over 60mph! If I accelerate the plane and then pitch up steeply, I have accelerated your body to 150 mph across the ground and then started an upward acceleration up of 60 mph. If you aren't gentle, you can make the initial climb after takeoff an unnecessarily rough maneuver, but sometimes, you have no choice, as in trying to avoid wake from the plane that departed right in front of you. However, smoothly rotating lets the plane fly away from the ground genty and with a little extra energy because the speed builds rapidly after liftoff. Power is a good thing as it gets you away from the ground quickly. No Pilot has ever had a problem hitting air. It is the ground that always wins. A landing is just a tie. ... View more

The Titan II missile used in the Gemini Space program weighed 330,000 lbs at liftoff. Riding skyward on 440,000 lbs of thrust it would accelerate to 60 mph in a distance about equal to its own length (105 feet, about the length of a Boeing 737). Astronauts reported that the acceleration on a launch would build to just over five Gs of acceleration before first stage burnout at around 100,000 feet and 60 miles down range. At this point, stage two would ignite and push the capsule into space before shutting down, its fuel tanks exhausted. As the capsule entered orbit, fully three-quarters of the weight of the airframe present at liftoff would have been burned up as fuel to lift the crew capsule into space. From ignition start to stage II shutdown, the whole powered portion of the flight would last about ten minutes. In a former life, I used to sit nuclear alert as a Missile Combat Crew Commander in Tucson. My Titan II had no crew capsule but rather a re-entry vehicle whose sole passenger was a thermonuclear warhead. Several of our Pilots here at Southwest served in this capacity prior to going to Air Force flight training. Fortunately, none of us "missile pilots" logged any flying time, except for test launches out of Vandenberg AFB, in California. As in many jobs, I see parallels in my current job as aircraft Pilot. Today, flying from Providence, R.I., to Phoenix, my aircraft is filled with 33,000 pounds of jet fuel, spread across three tanks (a main and the two wing tanks). At brake release, we will accelerate to about 150 mile per hour in less than 30 seconds and liftoff consuming about 5,000 pounds of fuel an hour, per engine. At cruise altitude, the fuel usage rate for each engine will decrease to about 2,000 lbs per hour. This increase in fuel efficiency is why jetliners fly so high. Like the missile burning fuel, we will consume 1,500 pounds of fuel as we climb just getting to 20,000 feet. By level-off at 36,000 feet, we will have used two tons of jet fuel at about $2 a gallon  ($1,200 total). Nearly two and a half hours downrange, our center main tank will be empty and we will run the rest of the way to our destination on our full wing tanks.  Over the planned 5:05 hours of flight time to Phoenix, we will consume 25,500 pounds, or over eleven tons of fuel ($7,700!). Even at that rate, I have read that the fuel used is still less than if we had loaded 40 or so SUV's with three or four people each and driven everyone of our 137 passengers the same distance. Efficiency and unsurpassed speed. Two great reasons flying SWA has become the logical choice for modern travelers. ... View more

Nothing presents more of a barrier to those who do not like flying than turbulence. The mere mention of the "T" word is enough to trigger sleepless nights leading up to a flight. I know this because I work with people on a fear of flying website who are afraid of flying - and deathly afraid of turbulence. Hence the two title words above which usually elicit a smile, rather than cold sweats.   Whatever you call them, the bumps are just a part of the business. To date, no one has figured out how to see air and most of the turbulence experienced by airline passengers is Clear Air Turbulence (CAT). Often, Pilots only know about turbulence ahead from Pilot reports from planes ahead of them. In the last decade, we have learned a lot about what atmospheric conditions cause most instability in the atmosphere. Southwest uses a great system pioneered by Northwest Airlines that helps predict when and where the bumps might be. Predictions don't make it smoother, they just help the Crews get themselves and their passengers through the sky safer.   The reality is, this 2006-2007 winter is the bumpiest winter I can recall in my near 30 years in aviation. Nearly every Pilot and Flight Attendant I have talked to this year agrees that the rides offered by Mother Nature have been among the worst in recent memory. One of our renown pioneer SWA Pilots, when asked about the ride at altitude in his area, once responded by saying, "It's rougher than a stucco bathtub..." I was reminded of his comments as I rode through a trough line over Memphis this week. For forty five minutes out of our four-hour flight, it was not fun.   The key to this post for everyone is this: Fun or not, as long as everyone heeds the FASTEN SEATBELT sign and stays seated, everyone makes it through the flight just fine. People who ignore this safety rule put not only themselves at risk, but anyone they might fall on or be tossed into during an extreme turbulence encounter. Those who violate the FAA mandate to comply with Crew instructions and commands do so at their own peril.   Flying is the safest means of transportation yet devised. It has become that way because we have learned from our mistakes and used judgment built on years of experience to remove as much risk as possible. Yet some passengers always think they know better.   Your Pilots will go out of their way to give you the best ride possible but when their best efforts are no match for what Mother Nature has thrown in their path, it's best to have "battened down the hatches" well in advance. That is why the seatbelt sign is often on even though the ride is currently smooth: The Pilots expect bumps ahead. Smart passengers will heed this warning and remain seated. The same goes for passengers and Crew moving about the cabin.  An old axiom of aviation reflects the caution that has made aviation safer: "I'd rather be down here wishing I was up there than up there wishing I was down here."         ... View more