A Near Miss with Policy: United Flight’s Drone Strike on Approach to San Diego Exposes Gaps in U.S. Drone Enforcement
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A United A320 struck a drone at 4,000 feet on final approach to San Diego—inside tightly controlled Class B airspace—then landed as if nothing had happened. That quiet outcome masks a louder truth: U.S. drone rules exist on paper, but enforcement lags so badly that a consumer drone can reach a crowded jet with 182 people onboard. This article shows how a single thump on a wing exposes systemic blind spots that regulators, airlines, and cities can no longer afford to ignore.
The Airbus shuddered at 4,000 feet, a dull thump reverberating through the fuselage just minutes from landing. In the cockpit of United Airlines Flight 1722, the crew scanned their instruments, unsure whether they had clipped a bird or something far more troubling. Only after the aircraft reached the gate at San Diego International Airport did the truth emerge: a small drone had struck the plane on final approach, leaving damage to the leading edge of the wing and raising a question the aviation system has been dodging for years—how close are we to catastrophe?
A routine approach that wasn’t
The incident occurred on January 22, 2024, shortly after 6 p.m., as the Airbus A320 descended toward Runway 27 at San Diego International. According to the Federal Aviation Administration, the aircraft had departed Denver with 176 passengers and six crew onboard. No one was injured. The plane landed safely. Operations continued.
That’s the official version. The unofficial reality is more unsettling. San Diego’s airport sits in the heart of the city, hemmed in by neighborhoods, highways, and—crucially—airspace that has become increasingly crowded with consumer drones. The aircraft was flying through Class B airspace, where drones are either prohibited or tightly restricted. Yet one was there, at exactly the wrong place and time.
This was not a hypothetical risk modeled in a safety study. It was metal on composite, lithium battery on jetliner, at nearly 150 knots. Aviation safety margins absorbed the impact this time. Next time is not guaranteed.
The numbers tell a troubling story
Drone encounters with manned aircraft have surged over the past decade, and the data paints a picture regulators have struggled to confront.
- The FAA logged over 2,000 reported drone sightings by pilots in 2023, a fourfold increase from 2016.
- In the San Diego region alone, pilots reported nearly 150 drone sightings within 10 miles of the airport last year, according to FAA’s UAS Sightings Report.
- Globally, the U.K.’s Civil Aviation Authority has recorded at least 12 confirmed drone-aircraft collisions since 2018, including strikes on helicopters and small passenger planes.
What makes the United incident stand out is not just proximity, but confirmation. Most reports involve near misses—white specks flashing past cockpits, hard to verify. This one left physical evidence. Maintenance crews found impact marks consistent with a small unmanned aircraft, likely weighing under five pounds. At approach speed, that mass carries the kinetic energy of a cinder block dropped from a ten-story building.
Bird strikes happen daily. Drones are different. They contain dense batteries, metal motors, and rigid frames. A 2017 study by the Alliance for System Safety of UAS through Research Excellence found that a drone strike can cause up to four times more damage to a jet engine than a bird of equivalent mass. Certification standards for bird ingestion do not account for lithium-ion batteries exploding inside a turbofan.
How did a drone get there?
On paper, the rules are strict. Recreational drones must stay below 400 feet. Flying within five miles of an airport requires authorization. Entering Class B airspace without clearance violates federal law and can carry civil penalties up to $32,666 per violation, with potential criminal charges for reckless endangerment.
In practice, enforcement remains thin.
The FAA relies heavily on education and voluntary compliance. Remote ID—a digital license plate for drones—became mandatory for most operators in March 2024. But compliance remains spotty. The agency admits it lacks the manpower and technical infrastructure to actively monitor and intercept unauthorized drones in real time, especially around busy urban airports.
Local law enforcement faces its own constraints. Federal law restricts the use of counter-drone technologies like jamming or kinetic interception. Even when police identify a rogue drone, tracing it back to an operator can take hours or days—long after the aircraft has landed or crashed.
San Diego presents a perfect storm: dense population, favorable weather, a strong drone hobbyist culture, and an airport wedged into the city’s core. The approach path to Runway 27 passes over residential areas where backyard drone flights are common and enforcement is rare.
A near miss with policy, not just metal
The United strike exposes a policy gap that aviation insiders have warned about quietly for years. The system assumes most drone operators will follow the rules. Many do. Some don’t. And it only takes one.
Commercial aviation operates on layers of redundancy. Engines fail; backups kick in. Pilots err; checklists catch them. Air traffic controllers make mistakes; systems flag conflicts. Drone enforcement has no such depth. When prevention fails, there is no reliable last line of defense.
Consider this: Airports deploy bird radar, wildlife management teams, and engine certification standards honed over decades. Drone detection, by contrast, remains patchwork. A 2022 Government Accountability Office report found that fewer than 30 U.S. airports had any form of dedicated drone detection system, and most of those were pilot programs with limited coverage.
San Diego International does not publicly disclose whether it operates such a system. If it does, the drone still made it into the approach corridor.
The human factor in the cockpit
Pilots train extensively for bird strikes. Drone strikes? Not so much.
Several commercial pilots told me privately that drone encounters induce a different kind of stress. Birds are unpredictable but expected. Drones imply human intent or negligence, and they raise immediate concerns about engine damage, pressurization, or flight control impairment.
In this case, the crew continued the approach, unaware of the object struck. That decision aligned with standard operating procedures given stable flight parameters. Had the drone impacted an engine inlet or windshield, the outcome could have changed rapidly.
Aviation safety depends on predictability. Drones inject uncertainty at the most critical phase of flight—approach and landing—when aircraft are low, slow, and configured with minimal margins.
Why current fixes fall short
Remote ID was supposed to change the game. In theory, authorities can now identify and locate drones in real time. In reality, Remote ID relies on broadcast signals that require compatible receivers and active monitoring. Many police departments lack both.
Geofencing, another touted solution, also has limits. Consumer drones from major manufacturers like DJI include built-in no-fly zones around airports. But:
- Operators can unlock zones with minimal verification.
- Older or modified drones bypass restrictions entirely.
- Homemade and FPV drones often lack geofencing altogether.
Bad actors aside, complacency remains a risk. Hobbyists flying from balconies or backyards may not realize how close they are to an approach path. Visual perception from the ground can be deceptive. A jet that looks distant may be seconds away.
What actually works—and what doesn’t yet
Some airports and critical infrastructure operators are experimenting with layered counter-UAS systems that combine:
- RF detection sensors to identify control links
- Radar optimized for small targets
- Electro-optical cameras for visual confirmation
- Acoustic sensors to detect buzzing rotors
Companies like Dedrone by Axon and DroneShield RfPatrol offer airport-specific detection platforms already deployed at select U.S. facilities. These systems don’t neutralize drones, but they provide early warning—time for controllers to adjust approaches or pause operations.
Airlines, too, can play a role. Enhanced pilot reporting tools integrated into electronic flight bags could standardize and speed up drone encounter data. Real-time sharing between crews and ATC would build situational awareness instead of isolated anecdotes.
What travelers should pay attention to
Passengers rarely hear about drone incidents unless something goes wrong. That may change. Drone-related delays already occur at airports like Gatwick and Newark, costing airlines millions and stranding travelers for hours.
If you fly frequently, especially into dense urban airports, watch for:
- Sudden ground stops with vague explanations—often a sign of airspace incursions
- Diversions during clear weather, which can indicate security concerns rather than mechanical issues
- Increased use of secondary airports, a risk mitigation strategy some airlines quietly consider
Travel insurance policies vary widely in how they handle drone-related disruptions. Products like Allianz Global Assistance OneTrip Prime and World Nomads Explorer Plan explicitly cover delays due to airspace closures, a detail buried in fine print but increasingly relevant.
A warning that arrived intact—this time
The United jet taxied to the gate under its own power. Passengers disembarked, unaware how narrowly routine had triumphed over randomness. Maintenance crews documented the damage. Investigators added another data point to a growing file.
The system held. That’s the relief. It’s also the danger.
Aviation safety advances after disasters or near disasters force change. Drone enforcement has coasted on optimism and incrementalism, betting that education will outrun risk. The San Diego strike suggests that bet is aging poorly.
Urban airspace will only get busier. Delivery drones, air taxis, and recreational flyers all want a slice of the same sky commercial jets depend on. Without credible enforcement and real-time detection, policy becomes suggestion, and suggestion is not a safety strategy.
The warning has been delivered—on a United wing, at 4,000 feet, with 182 lives onboard. The question now is whether anyone with the power to act is listening before the next impact writes a harsher headline.