The Good Book says there is a time to be quiet and a time to speak up. I’m not talking about the Bible, although it says something similar. I’m referring to that great rulebook of flying: the federal aviation regulations, specifically FAR 121.542. Otherwise known as the “sterile cockpit rule,” the regulation states that no Part 121 flight crewmember may engage in activities that are nonessential to flight during the phases of taxi, takeoff, and landing, and below 10,000 feet msl. In other words, during these periods of high workload, it is not acceptable to discuss the ballgame, eat a turkey sandwich, or perform any other task that is not absolutely necessary to the safe continuation of the flight.
One evening at Philadelphia International Airport, I was first officer on a Bombardier CRJ200 with an hour-long wait for takeoff. For the first 15 minutes of the taxi, the captain and I made an honest effort to run taxi checklists, check for normal operation of systems, and discuss everything related to the upcoming flight. Good intentions only last for so long, however, and we soon found ourselves discussing our families, our hobbies, and the last great movie we had seen—anything to keep us from being bored to tears as we inched along behind 17 other airplanes creeping toward the hold-short line. We continued chatting until we realized that we were finally second in line for takeoff.
The captain went through his personal takeoff flow while I double-checked our departure frequencies. We never ran the official before-takeoff checklist (which I realized but did not say out loud because it was my second week on the job—maybe, I thought, you don’t really need to run that checklist every time?). We started rolling down the runway and annunciator lights began flashing and alarms sounded. Apparently, we had left the ground spoilers deployed from the taxi check but failed to put them down again (something that would have been accomplished on the before-takeoff checklist).
We had to abort and wait in that terribly long line again. Being the professional pilots that we were, we explained the mistake to our patient passengers, who happily endured the additional delay—at least that’s what should have happened.
Here’s how it really went down: When the alarms started on the takeoff roll, my captain immediately realized our mistake and called for me to retract the ground spoilers while he continued the takeoff. Proper procedure dictates that we should have aborted, but I, being a silent and nearly worthless first officer, elected to keep my mouth shut once again in favor of keeping the captain and the frustrated passengers happy.
We arrived at our destination without additional delay or any further problems, with an airplane full of passengers who never dreamed that two knuckleheads were at the controls. I don’t even want to think about what might have happened if we had been wrong about those flashing lights and continued the takeoff anyway.
There were several opportunities to avoid this mistake. I was talking when I should have been quiet, and quiet when I should have been talking. During the taxi portion of the flight, instead of discussing nonessential things, we should have been reviewing our departure plan and completing all the necessary checklists. The personal conversations could have waited until the cruise portion of the flight, when we were no longer under the sterile cockpit rule.
I’m tempted to defend myself and the captain by mentioning that staying awake and alert is essential to the safe continuation of flight. And, by discussing things (such as family and hobbies) that are more engaging than reviewing our departure briefing for the tenth time, we may actually have been keeping our brains sharper and more ready for the business of flying when that time came. However, FAR 121.542 clearly states that nonessential conversation not pertaining directly to the flight is to be avoided during taxi, takeoff, and landing—and, given our mistake, the reason seems clear.
Another thing I find frustrating about my performance on the flight is that I didn’t speak up when I realized we had missed the checklist or should have aborted the takeoff. Why was I more concerned about keeping peace in the cockpit than safely flying the airplane? I’m not sure how to answer that question other than to say that the experience has helped mold me into a more professional pilot, one who is more than willing to voice her concerns about the flight. My new motto comes straight from the Good Book and it has served me well: Speak up when it’s necessary and be quiet when it’s not.
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