After having spent yet another late evening doing material takeoffs and lists of things to do in my construction efforts, this morning I happened upon this story about "a smoking backpack" found at the Phoenix airport.
PHOENIX - A backpack caught fire Tuesday in the cargo area at Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport, leading to an evacuation, but authorities said the flames were likely caused by heat from a conveyor belt. The bag contained no explosives or other banned items, just leaking toiletries.
Phoenix police Lt. Rick Gehlbach said the backpack likely began to smoke after it got jammed between two larger pieces of luggage on a conveyor belt.
The impact probably caused toiletries containing alcohol to leak, and a combination of heat from the conveyor belt and its track rubbing against the backpack caused it to catch fire, Gehlbach said.
The fire was extinguished quickly, Gehlbach said.
About 10 a.m., a baggage handler loading bags on the US Airways plane noticed that the backpack was hot and set it aside. The fire department was called when the bag began to smoke, and they in turn called in a hazardous materials team as a precaution.
"When the bomb squad arrived, everything was melted in the bag," said Victor Rangel, a spokesman for the Phoenix Fire Department.
Rangel said the backpack contained hairspray and other toiletries.
Yadda yadda yadda...Whoop te doo... give me a break here and find something to really worry about.
I've actually had to jump up on the conveyor belt myself at Atlanta's Hartsfield "Interjacksonville" Airport more than once to save my suitcase from the ravages of the giant conveyors and the crap other idiots shipping baby strollers and coolers full of rotting fish home from the Philippines offer as "checked luggage."
Any way...
The story reminded me of an event that happened back about 40 years ago when my father was still flying airplanes and helicopters on a weekly basis.
As a test pilot and engineer, my dad was rated at least to ride in the co-pilot seat in virtually every airframe the US Army had in their inventory back then, and perhaps one of the most dangerous airplanes they had going was the Grumman OV-1 "Mohawk".
Here's a picture of the fastest, coolest looking fixed wing aircraft the Army ever had:
It's creation was a study in government stupidity and politics, but once the Air Force and Navy pulled out of the program it ended up being the only airplane the Army ever operated which included ejection seats for each of the cockpit crew.
Here's a look from the Pilot's seat:
Talk about bells and whistles...
In it's thirty year career with active duty and reserve forces, the plane also earned the nickname of "The Widowmaker."
It was unstable as hell, and was prone to going into an unrecoverable flat spin that killed several friends and acquaintances of my father, not to mention ending the life of one of my best friend's father from my grade school days in Vietnam in the late 1960's.
My father's flying career was essentially ended from a spinal injury he received in the ejection seat qualification training that the Army put the pilots through in order to qualify to fly it.
Now back to the smoking luggage story...
Dad was doing some test work with a Mohawk airframe out at his home airfield at Ft. Rucker, Alabama, and he and another pilot were required to shuttle the craft out to Texas for some additional work.
As I recall, the trip was long enough to be an overnight run with a return flight in another airplane, so dad loaded a small hardside briefcase with clean socks, underwear, and minimal toiletries (stick deodorant, toothpaste, etc.).
Not being a commercial airliner, the "luggage" was loaded into an empty equipment bay in the fuselage, and the mechanics were instructed to turn off the turbine engine operated heating system since the ferry flight would be a low altitude and the bays were empty.
That's where the problem came into the story.
Instead of turning the heat OFF, they apparently turned it WIDE OPEN.
I never will forget, as a little kid, seeing the warped body of that Samsonite hardside briefcase, the crispy socks (you could stick your finger through them), and the exploded tube of toothpaste and melted stick deodorant that came home after that little overnight sortie.
I'm quite proud to report that my Dad never bent or broke an airplane, even though things like this happened every now and then and he spent a couple of thousand hours in the air in his almost 20 year flying career.
YOU should be so capable or lucky next time you climb on a Delta airliner..
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