On a freezing January afternoon in 1982, Washington D.C. stood still. Snow was everywhere. It was the kind of heavy, wet slush that makes everything in the District feel claustrophobic and grey. National Airport was struggling. Then, at 4:01 p.m., the unthinkable happened. Air Florida Flight 90, a Boeing 737 packed with people just trying to get home or get to Florida, barely made it off the runway. It stalled. It hit the 14th Street Bridge. Then, it plunged into the icy Potomac River.
People always ask about survivors from the DC plane crash because, honestly, looking at the footage, it seems impossible that anyone walked away. The plane broke apart. Most of it sank almost immediately into the black, freezing water. Out of 79 people on board, only five survived the initial impact and the subsequent wait for rescue. Five. It’s a haunting number.
The story isn't just about the mechanics of a crash, though. It’s about what happened in those twenty minutes in the water. It’s about the people on the bridge who jumped in and the bystanders who became legends.
The Five Who Made It Out
When the plane hit the water, it didn't just float. The tail section was basically the only part that stayed above the surface for any length of time. This is where the survivors clung for their lives.
Bert Hamilton was one of them. He was an executive who somehow found himself pushed out of the wreckage. He didn't even know how he got out. Then there was Kelly Duncan, the only flight attendant to survive. She was remarkably composed given the circumstances, helping others stay calm while their limbs went numb from the 33-degree water.
Joe Stiley and Patricia "Nikki" Felch were also there, battling the ice. Stiley was trying to hold onto Felch and his co-worker, Priscilla Tirado. The situation was grim. They were covered in jet fuel. The fumes were choking. Their hands were so cold they couldn't actually grip the life rings when the helicopter finally arrived.
The fifth person? That’s where the story gets heavy.
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The Sixth Passenger: Arland D. Williams Jr.
You can't talk about survivors from the DC plane crash without talking about the man who didn't survive, but ensured the others did. Arland D. Williams Jr. was in the water with the other five. Every time the Park Police helicopter dropped a rescue line to him, he passed it to someone else.
He did this over and over.
By the time the helicopter came back for him, the tail section had shifted or sunk further. He was gone. He is the only victim of the crash who died by drowning rather than blunt force trauma. It’s a level of selflessness that’s hard to wrap your head around when you’re literally freezing to death.
Why the Crash Happened: A Series of Small Mistakes
A lot of people think plane crashes are caused by one massive explosion. Usually, it’s a "swiss cheese" model—a bunch of tiny holes lining up.
The crew was relatively inexperienced with "winter ops." They were sitting on the tarmac for a long time. Snow was piling up. They tried to use the heat from the exhaust of the plane in front of them to melt the ice on their wings. Bad move. This actually turned the snow into slush, which then refroze into a thick layer of ice.
Even worse? The pilots didn't turn on the engine anti-ice system. This caused the engine pressure ratio (EPR) gauges to give false readings. They thought they were at full power during takeoff. In reality, the engines were barely pushing.
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"Look at that thing," the co-pilot said as they struggled to gain altitude. He knew something was wrong. But by then, they were already over the bridge.
The Heroes on the Shore
The rescue wasn't just about the professionals. It was about people like Lenny Skutnik.
Imagine standing on the bank of a river, watching a woman (Priscilla Tirado) lose her grip on a rescue rope. She’s too weak to hold on. The crowd is screaming. The helicopter can't get low enough. Skutnik didn't even take off his boots. He just dived into the ice-clogged Potomac, swam out, and dragged her to shore.
Then there was Roger Olian. He was a sheet metal worker who saw the crash from his car on the bridge. He jumped out with a rope and tried to reach the survivors before the helicopter even arrived. These were just regular guys. They weren't trained for this. They just couldn't watch people die.
Life After the Potomac
Survivors from the DC plane crash didn't just "get over it." The physical recovery was one thing—broken bones and hypothermia—but the psychological weight was immense.
Nikki Felch had to deal with the loss of her brother, who was also on the flight. Joe Stiley had a long road of surgeries. For years, these survivors were linked by a shared trauma that the rest of the world only saw on the evening news.
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The crash changed everything about how we fly in winter. If you've ever sat on a plane for an hour while they spray orange or green fluid on the wings, you can thank the lessons learned from Flight 90. They changed the de-icing protocols. They changed how pilots talk to each other in the cockpit (Crew Resource Management).
Understanding the Legacy of Flight 90
The 14th Street Bridge was eventually renamed the Arland D. Williams Jr. Memorial Bridge. It’s a constant reminder of that day.
When we look back at the survivors from the DC plane crash, we see the fragility of life. But we also see the weird, stubborn strength of the human spirit. Five people survived a crash that should have killed everyone. They survived because of a brave pilot in a helicopter (Gene Windsor), a selfless man in the water, and a guy in a suit who decided to jump into a frozen river.
If you’re ever stuck on the 395 in traffic, look out at the water. It’s calm now. But the history of that spot is deep.
Key Takeaways for Aviation Safety Enthusiasts
If you're researching this because you have a fear of flying or you're a history buff, here is the "real talk" on what this event teaches us:
- Trust the De-Icing: Modern de-icing is a chemical science. It’s not just "melting snow." It’s about creating a barrier that prevents ice from bonding to the wing.
- Pilot Communication: This crash is a primary case study in flight schools. It taught the industry that a co-pilot must be able to challenge a captain if the instruments look wrong.
- The "Golden Hour": In freezing water, you don't have an hour. You have minutes. The speed of the Park Police helicopter was the difference between five survivors and zero.
- Human Factor: No matter how good the tech is, human judgment—or the lack thereof—is the final line of defense.
To truly understand the impact of this event, look into the NTSB's final report (AAR-82-08). It’s a sobering read that details exactly how 22.5 seconds of flight changed aviation history forever. You can also visit the memorial plaques near the bridge if you're in the D.C. area to pay respects to those who didn't make it out of the water.