We’re missing part of the aircraft!

The plane was coming apart at 33,000 feet… and her voice on the radio sounded like she was ordering lunch. April 17, 2018. Flight Southwest 1380 takes off from New York to Dallas. 149 people on board. Drinks are served. The Boeing 737 climbs smoothly toward cruising altitude. Everything feels normal. Then the left engine explodes. The blast is so violent that Captain Tammie Jo Shults briefly thinks they’ve collided with another aircraft. Metal fragments tear through the fuselage like bullets. Window 14A shatters instantly. The cabin depressurizes with terrifying force — air rushing out at brutal speed. A passenger seated by that window is partially sucked outside. Several people throw themselves forward, gripping her legs and torso, fighting the pull of the vacuum to bring her back in. Oxygen masks drop. Alarms scream. The aircraft rolls hard to the left and begins to descend. Smoke pours into the cockpit. In the cabin, some passengers send what they believe will be their final messages: “I love you.” “Tell the kids I’m sorry.” Crew members shout instructions through chaos. Many are convinced the plane is breaking apart in midair. And in the middle of that nightmare… Tammie Jo Shults grabs the radio. Her voice is perfectly calm. “Southwest 1380, we’re operating on one engine,” she says, as if reporting a minor issue. “We’re missing part of the aircraft, so we’ll need to slow down a bit.” Air traffic control asks if there’s fire. “No, no fire,” she replies steadily. “But we are missing a part. I’ve been told there’s a hole, and someone went out.” No panic. No drama. Just information — delivered with surgical precision. That level of composure wasn’t luck. It was built over decades.