Washington National Airport had been closed most of that Wednesday following a heavy snowstorm. When the airport reopened, Flight 90's crew made a series of decisions that compounded into catastrophe. Rather than waiting for a proper deicing, pilots maneuvered their 737 close behind a taxiing DC-9, believing the exhaust heat would melt the accumulated snow and ice from their wings. The strategy backfired -- the exhaust melted the snow, but the resulting slush refroze on the wings' leading edges and the engine inlet nose cones as the aircraft sat waiting for clearance. The anti-icing system that should have prevented this was either not engaged or not functioning properly. When Flight 90 finally rolled down the runway, the ice-laden wings could not generate enough lift. The aircraft reached a maximum altitude that was barely above the bridge height before it began sinking. It was airborne for half a minute before it hit the bridge, tearing away sections of railing and wall.

The 737 broke apart on impact -- nose section, fuselage, tail -- and sank into ice-choked water. Emergency response was crippled by the very storm that had caused the crash. Ice-covered roads and gridlocked rush-hour traffic meant that ambulances dispatched at 4:07 p.m. took twenty minutes to reach the scene. Some were driven onto the sidewalk in front of the White House to get through. Rescuers who arrived found they lacked equipment to reach survivors clinging to wreckage in the freezing river. Makeshift lifelines fashioned from belts failed to reach them. The water temperature was near freezing, the ice too thick for swimming. Because the crash happened in the nation's capital, television crews were already nearby -- and cameras broadcast the desperate scene live across the country.

Roger Olian, a sheet-metal foreman at St. Elizabeths Hospital, was driving home across the 14th Street Bridge when he heard someone shouting that a plane was in the water. He became the first person to plunge into the icy Potomac to try to reach the survivors. Military personnel from the Pentagon -- Steve Raynes, Aldo De La Cruz, and Steve Bell -- ran to the water's edge to help. A U.S. Park Police helicopter, Eagle 1, piloted by Donald Usher with paramedic Melvin Windsor, lowered a lifeline to the survivors multiple times. Each time, one passenger -- later identified as Arland D. Williams Jr. -- passed the line to others instead of taking it himself. When the helicopter returned for Williams, the wreckage had shifted, submerging him. He was the only passenger to die by drowning. Congressional Budget Office employee Lenny Skutnik dove into the river to pull survivor Priscilla Tirado to shore. President Reagan invited Skutnik to the State of the Union address later that month, establishing the tradition of honoring civilian heroes in the gallery.

The disaster's timing magnified its impact. Just thirty minutes after Flight 90 crashed, the Washington Metro suffered its first fatal accident at Federal Triangle station. Washington's nearest airport, one of its main bridges, and a busy subway line were all closed simultaneously, paralyzing the metropolitan area. The NTSB investigation concluded that the crash resulted from pilot failure to use engine anti-ice during ground operation, the decision to take off with snow and ice on the airfoil surfaces, and the captain's failure to reject the takeoff when instrument readings showed anomalies. The disaster fundamentally changed aviation -- it led to sweeping reforms in deicing protocols, crew resource management training, and cockpit communication procedures. Olian, Skutnik, Usher, and Windsor each received the Carnegie Hero Fund Medal. Williams received the Coast Guard's Gold Lifesaving Medal posthumously. The 14th Street Bridge today carries a memorial plaque, and flight attendant Kelly Duncan was recognized in the NTSB report for her 'unselfish act' of giving the only life vest she could find to a passenger.