Unrestrained

The 125 thousand pound aluminum tube we are in speeds toward the ground, its flaps unfurled, wheels extended.

Against Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) recommendations, but in full compliance with regulations, we have a lap child – and she is not on our lap.

Instead, Olympia lies on her back in seat 8A, her legs touch over Catherine, she is asleep. I want to throw my body over her in some sort of quasi-brace position, but instead I whisper to my wife, “Please be careful. Put your arms on her.”

I cringe waiting for impact, but barely feel a jolt during the Boeing 737-800’s soft touchdown. I exhale. It was a perfect landing.

But on July 2,1994, it did not go so well. US Airways flight 1016 crashed near the Charlotte/Douglas International airport while trying to land in a thunderstorm. No one on board that evening had any warning; the only preparation being the standard protocol to fasten seat belts, raise tray tables, seatbacks in the upright position, and stow all items that could be possible projectiles – except infants under the age of two.

As per FAA and all airlines’ policy, children under the age of two may fly for free, held on your lap. No seat, no restraints needed. Just plop that kid on your lap and hold on tight. Please. Thank you.

On Flight 1016, there were two lap children. One was a 18 month-old who sustained serious injury, asleep, sprawled over seats 18E and 18F; and the other, a nine month-old in seat 21C, held in her mother’s arms. The mother was uninjured. Her daughter did not survive.

The National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) reported that the baby might not have sustained fatal injuries if she had been properly restrained in a child-restraint system. This crash stirred up, once again, the controversy over FAA policy regarding lap children.

I glance at the row across from us. A family from Fort Collins consumes all three seats: dad with a six month-old on his lap, mom in the middle, and their 18 month-old daughter at the window, watching Sesame Street on a portable DVD player.

She is not strapped in a child restraint system (CRS): they purchased her a seat for survival reasons of a whole other kind. “We didn’t want to take our chances,” dad says to me, clearly referring to their sanity, not their daughter’s safety.

“We lucked out,” I respond. “We have no one sitting in that seat.” I point to where Olympia is now standing, trying to haul herself up and over the backside. She is petite, hugging the third percentile for weight, and the few strands of curly hair that refuse to grow into anything but a mullet give the appearance she is half her age.

“Wow!” he says. Wow is right. Today it is rare to find an empty seat on commercial airlines; the cash-strapped industry makes certain of that. It may be the reason the FAA refuses to ban lap children, although they claim it’s because the cost of another seat could force families to drive instead, and all the studies show that driving is a highly more dangerous method of travel. The airlines want to keep families on board, too, because the policy is good for business.

The crash that started the crusade against lap children happened in 1989, near Sioux City, Iowa – United Airlines flight 232. There were four lap children on board that fateful day, and three parents were unable to hold on to their children.

Chief flight attendant, Jan Lohr, lived through that crash; one of only 164 survivors (111 were killed). She had to look the mother of a deceased child in the eye, and say that her 22 month-old, Evan, did not survive.

The month before this disaster, Lohr witnessed two lap children sustain injuries when they flew over a dozen rows and landed near a bulkhead after sudden and severe turbulence.

It’s no wonder Jan Lohr went on a rampage against lap children. The NTSB also urged the FAA to prohibit lap kids in its accident report on the crash. Today, over 23 years later, nothing has changed. During our flight, two occasions of mild turbulence cause the captain to illuminate the seat belt sign. I look at Catherine, and I know we were thinking the same thing: will they mandate Olympia back to our lap?

She passes inspection twice – the second time, the flight attendant does not even look our way as he passes by. This surprises me. Was this a case of “didn’t see, won’t tell” or ‘everybody loves a sleeping baby?’

According to the FAA, approximately 58 people in the United States are injured by turbulence every year, while not wearing their seat belts. Since two-thirds of them are flight attendants, that works out to around 20 passengers out of the 800 million or so who fly in this country each year, writes Patrick Smith, host of the website AskThePilot.com.

I Google hard, but I cannot find any mention of injured lap children in this statistic, which leads me to question: were there any?

Just over thirty minutes before touchdown, there is an explosion amongst the Fort Collins family. It is, of course, the 18 month-old. I shoot over a sympathetic glance to dad. Mom holds her daughter, desperately trying to quiet the screams, while dad gives mom an understanding shoulder squeeze. After ten minutes – a long ten minutes for everyone – mom succeeds.

I try to imagine this situation if lap kids were banned. As airplanes make their final approach, I picture screaming infants and toddlers: babies with ear pain from the changing air pressure, overtired toddlers throwing tantrums, and frantic parents not able to do a damn thing about it.

Olympia’s 16th flight is now over. We land in Denver, and not one flight attendant told us to restrain her.

We have one more flight planned for her as a lap child, in March. I know the probability of anything happening is ridiculously low, but I am no longer a clueless parent. I have read about terrifying crashes, and numerous blogs, news articles, websites, and book excerpts from passionate advocates against lap children. The ‘what if’’ nags at me…but only a little.

I imagine the experts and advocates are screaming that I am a terrible parent, but it still does not sway me. Olympia will ride in my lap one more time.

Perhaps, they are right. Maybe I am reckless. In the end, however, I know the most dangerous part of our trip will be the drive to and from the airport. And for that, my daughter will be strapped tightly in the CRS in the backseat of our Subaru – like she always is.

Anne Samplonius is a recently retired professional cyclist who now spends her days taking care of her daughter, Olympia, and writing. Read more of Anne’s work on her blog, Miscellany of Writing.