As we proceeded down the glide slope, accumulating ice at a prodigious rate, the airspeed continued to drop steadily as Jeanne raised the nose to try to remain on the glide slope until she could get the airport runway in sight. By the time we reached the middle marker (about two miles from the outer marker), we were falling off because we couldn’t generate enough lift even with full power to maintain the electronic glide slope.
There was a flurry of activity all over the airplane—into which strode Mr. Federal Aviation Inspector Extraordinaire. He proceeded to come into the cockpit and inform me, in no uncertain terms, that this was going to be a “line check” to East Midlands. I asked if he was qualified on the 737, to which he huffily replied, “I certainly am. I am type-rated on the 737.”
Since we were coming in from the southeast, slightly off her right, I took over the communications again and told her to change to a heading that should have taken her to the airport. I was guessing at the wind correction angle to apply, but I was only a few degrees off her inbound course, so I had a fair idea of the course she should fly. Karen turned to the new heading and was settling down somewhat, getting over her earlier panic.
At about 175’ AGL, we entered the clouds. As we reached the 50’ AGL point, I announced “Landing”. I retarded the throttles when the flying cues in the HGS called for me to “flare” (ease the power off and pull the nose up for touchdown) and the mains settled-on the runway right where they were supposed to.
Every damn person in the nation wants to be somewhere else over the holidays—just when the weather is the worst and the most junior employees are working across the system. The FAA air traffic controllers all want to be home for the holidays, the airline employees want to be home for the holidays, and both systems work strictly on seniority. So, the most junior folks with the least experience at their respective jobs are all working when the going gets the toughest.