(14 October 2004, Missouri) When Peter and Jesse wanted to see what their new
ride could do, like many young men, they got more than they bargained for. It
was all fun and games until the vehicle stalled. In most cases this wouldn't
be a serious problem -- but Peter and Jesse stalled at 41,000 feet.
You see, they weren't pushing the old man's car to the limit. They were flying
a 50-passenger jet, a Bombardier CRJ200. Fortunately, there were no passengers
aboard to share the fatal consequences.
"Paging the Darwin Awards, please pick up
the white courtesy phone."
Jesse, 31, was captain of Pinnacle Airlines Flight 3701, and Peter, 23, was the
co-pilot. They were transporting an empty plane from Little Rock, Arkansas to
Minneapolis, where it was needed for a morning flight. They decided to see
what that baby could do. Their fun began while ascending, as they pulled 1.8
G's in a maneuver that activated an automatic stall avoidance system.
Then they decided to "forty-one it," take the jet to 41,000 feet--eight
miles--the maximum altitude the plane was designed to fly. The thrust of the
engines pressed them into their seats with 2.3 times the force of gravity as
they soared ever higher, laughing and cursing in a friendly manner, ignoring
the overheating engines, and the stick shaker that warned they were operating
outside of safe aerodynamic parameters.
At this point, Air Traffic Control contacted the pilots to find out what they
were up to. A female controller's voice crackled over the radio: "3701, are
you an RJ-200?"
"I've never seen you guys up at 41 there."
The boys laughed. "Yeah, we're actually a, there's ah, we don't have any
passengers on board, so we decided to have a little fun and come on up here."
Little did they know that their fun was doomed when they set the auto-pilot for
the impressive climb. They had specified the [I]rate[/I] of climb rather than
the [I]speed[/I] of the climb. The higher the plane soared, the slower it
flew. The plane was in danger of stalling when it reached 41,000 feet, as the
autopilot vainly tried to maintain altitude by pointing the nose up.
"Dude, it's losing it," said one of the pilots.
"Yeah," said the other.
Our two flying aces could have saved themselves at that point. An automatic
override began to pitch the nose down to gain speed and prevent a stall.
Unfortunately, Jesse and Peter chose to overrule the override. Oops. The
"We don't have any engines," said one.
"You gotta be kidding me," said the other.
Jesse and Peter still might have saved themselves. They were within gliding
range of five suitable airports. Unfortunately, they did not reveal the full
extent of their difficulties to the controller. They said that they had lost
only one of the two engines. They glided for 14 full minutes, losing altitude
all the way. As they drifted closer and closer to the ground at high speed,
still unable to get the engines restarted, they finally asked for assistance:
"We need direct to any airport. We have a double engine failure."
Unfortunately, it was too late. "We're going to hit houses, dude," one of
pilots said, as they desperately tried to reach an airport in Jefferson City.
They missed the houses and the runway, crashing two and a half miles from the
airport. Both men died in the crash.
"It's beyond belief that a professional air crew would act in that manner,"
said a former manager of Pinnacle's training program for the Bombardier CRJ200.
MEDIA REFERENCES to the Darwin Awards
A Case Of Fatal Joyriding?
Opinion of Jim Campbell Editor-in-Chief of Aero-News Network
DarwinAwards.com © 1994 - 2017
Submitted by: Gos
Reference: New York Times, Aero-News.net, NTSB