Vices and Virtues that Impact Foresight, #14

On a frozen January afternoon in 1982, Air Florida Flight 90 sat on the runway at Washington National Airport. Snow drifted across the tarmac, visibility was low, and ice clung to the wings and engine inlets. Inside the cockpit, Captain Larry Wheaton studied the power readings with a growing sense of unease. “That doesn’t look right, does it?” he said softly—less a warning than a quiet appeal.

His first officer sensed the danger too. The instruments looked wrong. The engines felt slow. Nearby aircraft reported dangerous levels of ice. Yet both men excused their concerns, hoping the other would carry the burden of truth. Their unease grew, but neither spoke with the clarity reality demanded. Weak signals accumulated around them like snow flakes.

Moments later, Flight 90 lifted off with too little thrust. The engines stalled almost instantly, strangled by ice. The aircraft plunged into ...