Cockpit Window Shatters Mid Flight, Then The Pilot Is Sucked Out Of The Plane

Cockpit window shatters mid-flight. Then the pilot is sucked out of the plane. When you're nestled snugly among the clouds at 20,000 feet, it can feel like you're floating. It's calm and quiet when you're thousands of feet above the Earth's surface. But as the crew of British Airways Flight 5390 would tell you, that can change in an instant. One peaceful morning in 1990, the flight crew suddenly found themselves surrounded by screaming wind, twisting metal, and only a slim chance at getting everyone back to the ground alive. On the day of the flight, June 10th, 1990, the weather was fair and the passengers were eager to get to sunny Malaga Airport in Spain. They trusted pilot-captain Tim Lancaster and his co-pilot, Alistair Acheson, to get them there. Acheson handled the take-off. It wasn't unusual for the co-pilot to do this essential maneuver, especially one like Acheson, who had logged over a thousand flight hours on the BAC-111 airplane. He gripped the controls, the plane climbing higher and higher into the air. The flight attendants bustled up and down the aisles, providing pillows and taking food orders for the passengers. Meanwhile, Acheson passed the controls over to Lancaster and both pilots loosened their shoulder harnesses. Then, all hell broke loose. Two vital things happened after the pilots loosened their shoulder harnesses. The first was that the plane reached an altitude of 17,300 feet. The second was that Lancaster, confident with the routine success of the take-off, loosened his lap belt. A second later, a deafening bang sounded from the cockpit. To the 81 passengers on the plane, it sounded like something had exploded. That's because inside the cockpit, where the two pilots controlled the plane, something had exploded. A window. The next thing Lancaster knew, he was straining to open his eyes against the freezing wind. The air sliced past his body and it took him one horrifying moment to realize that he was no longer safe and sound in his seat. At that exact moment, flight attendant Nigel Ogden just happened to enter the cockpit. He watched in shock as Lancaster's body was shoved out the window. Ogden lunged forward and grabbed Lancaster's ankles, blinking against the heavy condensation that had suddenly filled the cabin. Lancaster's knees were lodged between the flight controls and Ogden gripped Lancaster's torso with all the strength he could muster. The flight deck door had been forced inward by the air pressure, and to Atchison's horror, the heavy metal door was laying on top of the control console. With Lancaster helpless on the outside of the plane, Ogden holding onto his legs for dear life and the metal door covering most of the control panel, Atchison knew it was up to him to get everyone back to the ground, hopefully in one piece. If only he could hear himself think, the sound of whipping wind filled the cockpit, drowning out air traffic control's instructions as to what exactly Atchison needed to do. The seasoned pilot had always known that disaster was a possibility, but he never expected anything quite like this. The chaos worsened by the second. The autopilot had disengaged with the initial blast, and the plane was rapidly diving towards the earth. The metal door was leaning on the throttle, which made the plane gain speed as it quickly descended. The remaining flight attendants scrambled to gather up the debris that had blown into the cockpit from the passenger's cabin, as the only one left on board with piloting experience, Atchison did the only thing he could think of. Using the few controls he still had access to, he tried to regain control of the plane. Behind him, the flight attendants reassured the passengers that everything would be okay, while instructing them to brace for impact. The seconds turned into minutes as Atchison clutched Atchison knew that maintaining their altitude wasn't an option. Not only was the air pressure sucking things, namely Lancaster, out of the plane, but the plane wasn't equipped with enough oxygen for every passenger on board. All Atchison could do was slowly maneuver the plane to a lower altitude, but it was impossible to ignore what was happening next to him. Ogden's arms, which were tightly wrapped around Lancaster's legs, were starting to get numb. He felt Lancaster slide inch by inch out of his grasp. Frostbite threatened to loosen his grip. The garbled sound of voices, shouting emergency instructions, came from the radio, but Atchison still couldn't hear them. Lancaster started to slip further and further out of Ogden's arms, and the sickening sound of his head repeatedly banging against the fuselage filled the cockpit. Ogden knew he couldn't hold on any longer. Luckily, two other flight attendants, John Huard and Simon Rogers, were able to take over, but no one was able to pull Lancaster back into the plane. Once again, holding tightly to the pilot, the crew was faced with a grim possibility. For some of the crew, it wasn't a possibility at all, but a fact. Lancaster was dead. The thin air, the freezing temperature, the crushing air pressure, no one could survive that, not even someone who was used to flying. And yet, Atchison's instructions to the crew were clear. Do not let go of Lancaster. He feared that doing so would end with his captain's body damaging the plane further, not to mention deprive his family of a body to bury. No, they'd hold on, but for how much longer? Atchison strained his ears and was finally able to make out the instructions from air traffic control. Make an emergency landing at Southampton Airport. At 8 55 a.m, 22 minutes after the disaster began, the landing strip came into view. Atchison single-handedly landed the plane, all 81 passengers, including Lancaster, back on the ground. Of course, two questions remained. What was Lancaster's future? And why did the whole disaster happen in the first place? What happened on the plane that day was identified as an explosive decompression. Basically, a drastic change in air pressure led to Lancaster being propelled out the window. The real culprit, however, was rooted in human error and not the crew's. A thorough investigation into the accident revealed that it wasn't actually the windscreen side window itself that was faulty, but the bolts that had been used to install it just 27 hours before. The bolts were too small and couldn't withstand the change in air pressure. The investigators were able to narrow the blame down to the shift maintenance manager who had installed the bolts and to Birmingham Airport management for not following proper British Airways protocol. But what about Lancaster and the rest of the crew? When they landed at Southampton Airport, rescue teams were stunned to find Lancaster blue, bruised, bloodied, but very much alive. Miraculously, Lancaster survived the incident with frostbite, a couple of broken bones, and shock. The flight crew, meanwhile, had a different fate. Atchison, Ogden, and other crew members all recovered from the incident and were even recognized for their bravery and quick thinking. Some of them were awarded with the Queen's Commendation for valuable service in the air, and Atchison got the 1992 Polaris Award for his heroic leadership.