CAPTAIN JEREMY BURFOOT is a retired Qantas pilot with 23,000 hours of flying between over 100 countries under his belt. He worked for Qantas for 36 years, Japan Airlines for 3 years and was a navigator in the Royal New Zealand Air Force for 3 years.
Today he delivers workshops in overcoming the fear of flying, and is an author and an adventurer. He lives in Auckland, New Zealand.
Read an extract from his memoir, The Secret Life of Flying.
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Onboard Security
On 12 September 2001, I woke up early in my hotel room in Cairns. I turned on CNN as I always did, and there was one
of the Twin Towers collapsing in New York. At first, I thought it was a disaster movie, but as I watched, I realised what was happening. My initial thought was, ‘This is interesting.’ Watching throughout that day and the following days, I was filled with horror at the carnage and waste of lives. But even so, right then, I had no idea how that day would profoundly affect aviation going forward.
It was a new concept to use a commercial aircraft loaded with fuel as a weapon. What made it more dangerous was the willing- ness of the terrorists to die and become martyrs as well. This would change the whole concept of aviation security.
The immediate response of governments and security ‘experts’ around the world was to overreact. Governments need to be seen to be doing something, and security people need to start build- ing bigger empires. Given the unprecedented events, this was completely understandable.
It did, however, take all the fun out of aviation. Cockpit visits were banned, airport security became a pain in the arse, and all of the romance of aviation died. My tolerance for troublemakers on my aircraft reduced to zero as well. Anyone who turned up drunk would be booted off, and anyone who threatened the crew or passengers would be handcuffed and handed over to authorities at the next destination.
Within a short time, we had super strong, bulletproof cockpit doors installed. Those cockpit doors became not only barriers to baddies trying to enter, but also barriers to interaction between the passengers and us. The tendency was to stay behind the locked door. This was partly because the old hijack rules of letting hijackers control proceedings were replaced with practices that emphasised protecting the cockpit at all costs. Terrorists could be executing people outside the door, but you would still not let them in. And if you were in the cabin when this happened, the other pilots wouldn’t let you back in either. It sounds cold, but consider- ing the destructive power of a martyr-flown aircraft, where the passengers would all die anyway, it was the only practical policy response.
Since 9/11, on each flight, the pilots decide on a password for the day, and they tell the cabin crew. Then when the cabin crew want to come to the flight deck, they need to give the password. This allows for some creativity and fun when coming up with the password. One of my favourites was ‘Youdaman’. This meant the cabin crew would call up and say, ‘We’re coming up with your coffee and Youdaman.’ To which I’d reply, ‘Yes I am, and come on up.’ Then they’d come and stand in front of the door. Once iden- tified on our camera, we’d let them in. Of course, a password like that only worked if the cabin crew were fun as well.
So, security became the new deal and smart operators cashed in. The others who benefited were the previously unemployable, who got jobs at security checkpoints. These airport security officers are known for their severe attitude and lack of a sense of humour. On the face of it, they seem to lack any common- sense. ‘Ah,’ I hear you saying. ‘You are being unfair here, Burfoot, because they are probably following rules and have no ability or permission to be flexible.’ And I say, fair point, and thank you for bringing that to my attention, but no. The reason they don’t have permission to be flexible is that their IQs are too low.
I’ve seen security people confiscate plastic water pistols and 10-mm spanners. What could you do with a 10-mm spanner? Remove the pilot’s nuts? Unbolt the wings? Yet people are still allowed to carry duty-free grog onboard. Have you seen what a smashed glass bottle looks like when used as a weapon? An attack with a broken wine bottle was mentioned a couple of chapters back. Did you know that rubbing a plastic credit card on a hard surface will make the edge sharp enough to cut someone? Are you aware that fire extinguishers, freely available in the cabin, can be used as weapons? Do you get my point?
After 9/11, we started getting air marshals on board for certain ‘random’ flights. There would generally be two of them. I would get a call from security telling me where they would be seated. No one else on the crew would know. There was always one on the upper deck watching the cockpit door. The cabin crew knew we carried them randomly and got good at picking who they were. They’d come up and say, ‘There’s a “built” mid-thirties dude in smart formal gear who’s not drinking in seat 18B. Is he a marshal?’ I’d just smile. In my last few years flying, the air marshals seemed to have gone the way of the dinosaurs, though.
Disruptive passengers were still common post-9/11, even though it was well known that airlines and authorities were becoming way less tolerant of them. On one trip from London to Bangkok, the cabin crew advised that they had a guy downstairs who was being a dick. He was saying he was London Mafia, and he knew where we stayed in Bangkok. I went down to speak with him. He was short and fat and full of bluster, much like Boss Hogg from The Dukes of Hazzard. Bear in mind I’m over 6ft and very fit. I advised him that he had choices: leave the crew alone or be cuffed and met in Bangkok by the local police. He said to me, ‘I know where you guys stay in Bangkok. I’ll come and get you!’ I pulled out a business card and said, ‘Come to my room first. I’ll be waiting for you.’ Then I leaned into his ear and said, ‘Now shut the fuck up.’ And he did. These days, the captain wouldn’t be able to go down. He’d have to send a more junior pilot. As I’ve said before, all the fun has gone out of aviation.
Of course, it’s easy enough to take care of one nuisance, unless they are on drugs, but when a whole sports team starts playing up on their end-of-year party, you have a real issue on your hands. Not only do they encourage and embolden each other, but they are fit and strong as well. In the past this was not uncommon, and the only real option was to divert to the nearest airport and call the local constabulary.
Some of you will be disappointed to know that handcuffs were removed from aircraft many years ago as a result of them continuously going ‘missing’. Nowadays if you misbehave you can expect to be cuffed with special double-sided cable ties. I don’t recommend it. They look seriously uncomfortable.
A discussion about onboard security would not be complete without at least mentioning MH370. Everyone wants a pilot’s opinion on what happened to MH370. I have no idea. If I did, I’d be writing about that instead. But it’s worth watching the 2023 Netflix series, MH370: The Plane That Disappeared. This series gives a reasonable overview of all the different theories and ends up leaving you informed but even more confused than before. The series covers all the common theories and adds in some conspir- acy theories. The problem is that none of them are compelling, because they either lack motive or commonsense says it would be impossible to keep them secret.
The most popular theory is a pilot suicide or a hijack that went wrong, with the end result that the aircraft ends up in the Indian Ocean west of Perth. The next theory is of a clever hijack that takes the aircraft northwest to land in one of the Stanley countries, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan or Kyrgyzstan. According to the theory, this was carried out by the Russians along with the MH17 shootdown to punish Malaysia for something. There is no mention of what happens to the aircraft or the passengers under this scenario. Perhaps it was turned into a restaurant and the passengers are now working in a uranium mine.
Another theory is that the US air force shot down MH370 because it was carrying things to China that were not allowed to go there, such as sensitive technology. Supposedly under this scenario, the aircraft was shot down but remained completely intact and was spotted by a satellite on the ocean floor, impersonating a submarine, off the coast of southern Vietnam.
The theory that makes the most sense is: a pilot locks the other pilot out of the flight deck when he goes to use the bathroom. The remaining pilot then depressurises the aircraft, causing everyone to pass out from lack of oxygen. He has plans to do something bad with the aircraft to make a political point. But, somehow, his personal oxygen fails or runs out, and he passes out as well. The aircraft continues on course for seven hours, controlled only by the autopilot. Hypoxia is insidious. You don’t notice it coming. I’ve been in an altitude chamber in the air force and experienced this. One minute you are fine, then the next thing you know, someone is putting a mask on you and asking if you are okay.
There is another slightly far-fetched possibility, which removes all evil intent from the event. It’s a bit of a stretch but here goes: there is a fire in the vicinity of the flight deck and smoke is filling the cockpit. The pilots turn the aircraft around, using the auto-pilot heading selector to fly the heading they want while they try to deal with the problem. Fire starts to invade the flight deck, so the pilots leave and attempt to fight the fire through the cockpit door using portable fire extinguishers rushed from all over the aircraft. Eventually the fire is extinguished but the controls and switches that are used to direct the aircraft are melted. The aircraft continues for seven hours with the autopilot engaged until it runs out of fuel.
No one will really know what happened unless the aircraft is found, but suffice to say, inflight security is just as important as that which occurs before you get on the aircraft. Crew must remain vigilant at all times.
ABOUT OF AUTHOR
Captain Jeremy Burfoot is a retired Qantas pilot with 23,000 hours of flying between over 100 countries under his belt. He worked for Qantas for 36 years, Japan Airlines for 3 years and was a navigator in the Royal New Zealand Air Force for 3 years.
He has three World Records on JetSki (including 24-hour longest distance travelled), having raised $500,000 for melanoma and prostate cancer. He has represented New Zealand at masters World Championship cycling multiple times.
Today he delivers workshops in overcoming the fear of flying, and is an author and an adventurer. He lives in Auckland, New Zealand.
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