Aviation has always fascinated me. It started as a child with trips to Raleigh-Durham International Airport to pick up or drop off family members. This was a time when anyone could enter the terminal area and go to whichever gate they wanted.
American Airlines Flight 191 should have been a standard flight from Chicago to Los Angeles. Instead, the name conjures horrifying visions of an aircraft in distress, a flight crew unable to recover, and the last moments of 273 lives.
Monday, September 25, 1978, was a typical day in San Diego: warm and sunny, with clear skies giving around 10 miles of visibility. It was a perfect morning to fly. By day's end, the city and the aviation industry would be forever altered.