I thought we were going to go down and drown.
On a Sunday in July, a seaplane carrying eight souls descended hard into New York's East River, its wing strut snapping on impact — a moment that compressed the ordinary thrill of flight into something far more precarious. All passengers were recovered, two with minor injuries, and the aircraft was towed back to the dock still upright. Yet this was not the first such event on this stretch of water in recent weeks, and the accumulation of incidents invites a deeper question about what we accept as routine in the spaces between sky and city.
- A Kodiak 100 seaplane struck the East River near East 23rd Street with enough force to snap a wing strut — the structural spine connecting wing to fuselage — sending the pilot into a mayday call.
- Sixteen-year-old Khloe Todd described the sequence with unnerving clarity: a tilted approach, a violent bounce, and the certainty, for a moment, that the plane would sink.
- FDNY units pulled all eight passengers from the water; two were evaluated for minor injuries, though the plane itself remained intact enough to be towed upright back to the dock.
- This marks the second seaplane incident in the East River within three weeks, with a local runner noting that rough, bouncing landings on this stretch of water are not uncommon on Sunday afternoons.
- The FAA has opened an investigation and is expected to release a preliminary accident report within the week, as questions mount about safety protocols governing seaplane operations in urban waterways.
On a Sunday afternoon in July, a Kodiak 100 seaplane departed East Hampton and approached Manhattan's East River near East 23rd Street and the FDR Drive. Around noon, something went wrong on descent. Video from inside the cabin captured the Empire State Building framed in the windows before a series of violent jolts prompted the pilot to call a mayday. The hard landing snapped a wing strut — the structural pole bearing much of the wing's weight against the fuselage.
All eight passengers were recovered by FDNY units. Two were evaluated for minor injuries; at least one declined medical attention. The aircraft, remarkably, remained upright and was towed back to the dock as rescue crews worked around it.
Among the passengers was Khloe Todd, sixteen, who recounted the experience with the measured precision of someone still absorbing what had happened. The plane was already tilted on approach, she said. She feared they would sink. What stayed with her was the sequence — the glide, the sudden rise, the turn, and then the enormous final impact. Her grandmother, seventy-five, had flown the same model twice before without incident.
What gives the event additional weight is its context. Three weeks earlier, on June 13, another seaplane went down in the East River near Whitestone, Queens, with the pilot and one passenger rescued unharmed. A runner who regularly watches seaplanes land along the river on Sundays said the pattern of bouncing, repeated contact, and imprecise approaches had long struck him as haphazard. The video from inside the cabin confirmed exactly what he described.
Two incidents on the same stretch of water within three weeks — and an FAA investigation now underway — leave open a question that extends well beyond this particular Sunday afternoon.
On a Sunday afternoon in July, a seaplane carrying eight people came down hard in the East River near Manhattan, its wing strut snapping on impact. The Kodiak 100 had taken off from East Hampton that morning and was approaching the water near East 23rd Street and the FDR Drive when something went wrong. Around noon, the FDNY received the call. Video from inside the cabin shows the Empire State Building visible through the windows as the plane descends, then a series of violent jolts that sent the pilot into a mayday call.
All eight passengers were pulled from the water by FDNY units. Two were evaluated for minor injuries, though at least one person declined medical treatment. The plane itself remained intact enough to be towed back to the dock, sitting upright in the water as rescue crews worked around it.
Khloe Todd, sixteen years old, was one of those passengers. She described the landing to CBS News with the clarity of someone still processing shock. The plane was already tilted as it came down, she said. She thought they were going to sink. What she remembered most was the sequence of it—the gliding, the sudden rise back up, the turn across the water, and then the enormous bump that came at the end. Her grandmother, seventy-five, had flown on this same model seaplane twice before without incident.
The FAA identified the aircraft as a Kodiak 100 and said the hard landing caused a wing strut to snap. A wing strut is the structural pole that connects the wing to the fuselage and bears much of the wing's weight. The agency said it would investigate and expected to release a preliminary report within the week.
But this was not an isolated event. Three weeks earlier, on June 13, another seaplane had gone down in the East River near Whitestone, Queens. The FDNY rescued the pilot and one passenger from that incident with no injuries reported. Jack Gonzalez, a runner who frequents the East River area, said he watches seaplanes land there several times each Sunday. He wasn't shocked by what happened. "It just seems a little more haphazard," he said, describing how the planes sometimes hit the water, bounce back up, and come down again. The pattern he was describing—the repeated contact, the lack of smooth approach—is exactly what the video from inside the cabin showed.
Two seaplane incidents in three weeks on the same stretch of water raises a question that goes beyond this particular Sunday: what is happening with these landings, and what safeguards exist to prevent them from becoming worse.
Notable Quotes
The plane was already tilted. It was just insane. I thought we were going to go down and drown.— Khloe Todd, 16-year-old passenger
It just seems a little more haphazard. Sometimes they'll hit the water, then come back up, then come back down.— Jack Gonzalez, observer of East River seaplane traffic
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does a seaplane landing in a river in Manhattan feel different from a plane landing at an airport?
Because there's no runway. The pilot is trying to set down on water, which is unpredictable—it moves, it has currents, it doesn't forgive the way asphalt does. And if something goes wrong, you're surrounded by it.
The video shows the Empire State Building, then chaos. What does that detail tell us?
It tells us this wasn't some remote incident. It happened in the middle of the city, in daylight, with people watching. The contrast between the postcard view and the mayday call is the whole story.
Two incidents in three weeks. Is that a pattern or coincidence?
A runner who watches the river regularly said the landings look "haphazard." That word matters. It suggests these aren't smooth, controlled descents. If you're seeing rough water contact repeatedly, something systemic might be at play.
What did the sixteen-year-old passenger understand that we might miss?
She understood the sequence. Tilt, glide, rise, turn, bump. She was tracking what the plane was doing wrong in real time. That's not panic—that's witnessing.
Why does a wing strut matter?
It's what holds the wing up. When it snaps, you've lost structural integrity. The plane can still float, people can still get out, but you've crossed a line from "rough landing" to "damage."