I usually wouldn’t post plane crash news, but before I heard about this particular crash, I read something disturbing about American Airlines…. I don’t know if it’s true. But I just had to post it because I think you should know….
A bit about the crash itself (via):
KINGSTON, Jamaica — An American Airlines flight from Miami with more than 150 aboard overshot a runway and skidded to the edge of the Caribbean Sea, injuring more than 40 people, officials said.
Flight 331 lurched down the runway of Norman Manley International Airport in the Jamaican capital Tuesday night. Crews evacuated the passengers, who had to walk along a beach in the rain to board buses to reach the terminal.
The plane’s fuselage was cracked, both engines broke off from the impact, and the left main landing gear collapsed, airline spokesman Tim Smith said. Most of the injuries were cuts and bruises, and none were life threatening, he said.
U.S. federal investigators will analyze whether the plane should have been landing in such bad weather, Smith said, adding that other planes landed safely amid heavy rain.
Here’s the disturbing secret info (via):
Someone close to me ( I won’t name anyone ‘cause god knows who reads my babbling) is a lawyer and he specializes in the airline industry. Something like that. It’s early I don’t know the precise job description.
Anywho, what baffled me was that I overheard a conference call where he was debating with someone about how American Airlines has some discontinued Boeing planes in its fleet. How they put the crappiest planes on certain destinations. Like for example the Caribbean and certain Latin American countries. They even look at the demographic of the passengers, or so the other person on the line suggested. I was shocked.
I wonder how that goes, if they have a chart of their planes and a map with their destinations and decide that those places where old folk and non-interesting people go might as well get the crappy minimally serviced planes.
I might believe it true based on own experience as far too often the AA flight from Miami to Aruba has been delayed due to technical issues. During my last one we had a 2 hour delay and they took off with a plane that had issues as in the AC system kaput and the PA system not functioning. Of course I had to take a Xanax on that one.
How different from my trip from Amsterdam to London during the summer. Also technical difficulties but they would not take off until it was resolved and when they saw the delay passed an hour and a half they simply transferred us to a new plane.
The one pictured is from yesterday in Jamaica.
One Sentence is an experiment in brevity. Most of the best stories that we tell from our lives have one really, really good part that make the rest of the boring story worth it.
This is about that one line.
This is about telling the most interesting or poignant story possible in the least amount of words.
This is about small bite-sized pieces of extraordinary lives and ordinary lives alike… the happy, the sad, the funny, the depressing.
My 8-year-old sister proudly declared that she knows that “WTF” means “Wow, That’s Funny” and has been using it all over the internet.
I couldn’t help but smile as my third grader threw the ball through the hoop and yelled, ”Touchdown!”
Only after stepping on a lego in the middle of the night and ignoring the pain in order not to wake up the little princess I was carrying to bed did I realize that I was really a dad and not just a father.
A man was abusing his dog so I stole the dog, got arrested and fought a legal battle, and now every night when the dog jumps in bed with me I know it was worth it.
When I was 5 or so my mom would tell me to lie down before she tied my tie and I just now realized at the age of 19 that she did this because she’s a funeral director.
I knew God had a sense of humor when I hesitantly answered the ringing K-Mart payphone, only to hear my best friend, who had misdialed my home phone number, on the other end.
Today you shaved your hair into a mohawk to make my mom laugh over losing hers to chemo and today I realized that you are my hero.
When asked to name the one person absent from her life that she missed the most, she responded, “The person I hoped I’d be by this point in my life.”
I conduct job interviews for a living and nothing gives me a better sense of wielding karma than giving the job to the nervous kid instead of the better qualified arrogant prick.
As I woke up from my nap to find written on my feet “This is my momma and you can’t have her,” I realized that my child is very, very strange.
I know 18 digits of pi and can recite the quadratic equation, but I still need to make an L with my hand to find out where left is.
Supporting gay rights does not make me a lesbian any more than supporting the civil rights movement made my mother black, you idiot.
A discarded term!? I guess Bill Kemp has never visited this blog. I’m grateful for this little piece of our history.
By Bill Kemp Archivist/librarian McLean County Museum of History | Posted: Saturday, December 12, 2009
For much of the 20th century, Bloomington-Normal residents thought it necessary to maintain segregated group homes for underprivileged children. One would be hard-pressed to find a better illustration of the embarrassing state of race relations over the decades than the fact that impoverished, neglected and unwanted children were separated by race until the 1960s.
From World War I until JFK and Camelot, African-American children lived at the McLean County Home for Colored Children, later renamed for Booker T. Washington, on Bloomington’s far west side.
This institution dates to 1918 when Alexander Barker and his wife Cedonia, with assistance from Margaret Wyche, took it upon themselves to care for six orphaned black children. Not long after, the Missionary Union, a group of four local churches stepped in to lend much-needed assistance. Though chartered by the state of Illinois in December 1920, the home was a rather primitive operation, with 25 children and 2 adults living in a six-room house with no plumbing or running water.
Improvements in the home, both in its physical plant and operation, soon followed. Located on the 1200 block of West Moulton Street, now MacArthur Avenue, the home’s mission was to “foster self respect, independence and good character.”
Overseen by a 15-member board of progressive-minded women, the home expanded to an adjacent residence. Also acquired in the early years were five nearby lots that were converted to truck gardens so the home could grow much of its own food. The boys generally worked the garden plots and the girls handled the laundry and canning, along with other duties.
The 1920 U.S. Census identified 15 of the 18 children at the home as mulatto, a since-discarded term for someone of mixed-race heritage. Back then, children with one black parent and one white were often outcasts, and into the 1940s, if not later, the home served as a safe haven for mixed-race children abandoned by their parents and local communities.
Money was always tight and the needs of the new arrivals great. “A special effort has been made to give each child his full quota of milk and butter fat, as many of the children were underweight,” read one report from 1921.
“There is absolutely no place of good repute open to such children in Illinois, except this one,” noted The Pantagraph two years later. “The question arises, shall a child be permitted to subsist on the contents of garbage cans … simply because of their race? Paraphrasing the Biblical interrogatory, ‘Who is thy brother’s keeper?’”