Let me tell you something, you steely-eyed missile man: When you land a motherfucking plane in the Hudson motherfucking River and get all 155 people home for dinner, you deserve more than 15 minutes of fame. And that’s why you make the Hall of Happy Birthday list, Captain Sully!
The geese conspired to take out your engines, and you said, "Get those motherfucking geese off my motherfucking plane!" Air-traffic control tried to get you to fly to Teterboro, and you said: "I’m not making it to no Teterboro. We’re going in the river!" That’s decision-making. That’s experience. That’s leadership.
And the Hudson is no joke. It has crazy-rough currents, and it’s chock full of boats and debris. There are some boat captains who can barely navigate the Hudson, and you put a plane down in that soup as gentle as a hug from the Snuggle bear. Then you walked the aisle to make sure that everybody was safely out of the plane.
And don’t tell me that any captain would have done the same, because we just saw Francesco Schettino run a luxury liner aground and kill more than 20 people while he bolted for the nearest Olive Garden bar stool. Let’s put it another way: He started in the water, in a glass-calm ocean, with no geese flying into his engines, and still managed to kill people. You started in the air and landed in a valley of skyscrapers into a relatively thin, very turbulent river without as much as wrinkling anybody’s suit jacket. Hell, half those people still made their connecting flights.
I think the F.A.A. should mandate that all pilots wear Sully masks as they greet passengers. I think they should make a Captain Sully Snuggie. I think there should be a Captain Sully app (I don't know what it would do; maybe make you a cup of hot cocoa and read you a book). I think Macy’s should have children visit you at Christmas.
Hold me, Captain Sully, and tell me everything’s gonna be all right.
The geese conspired to take out your engines, and you said, "Get those motherfucking geese off my motherfucking plane!" Air-traffic control tried to get you to fly to Teterboro, and you said: "I’m not making it to no Teterboro. We’re going in the river!" That’s decision-making. That’s experience. That’s leadership.
And the Hudson is no joke. It has crazy-rough currents, and it’s chock full of boats and debris. There are some boat captains who can barely navigate the Hudson, and you put a plane down in that soup as gentle as a hug from the Snuggle bear. Then you walked the aisle to make sure that everybody was safely out of the plane.
And don’t tell me that any captain would have done the same, because we just saw Francesco Schettino run a luxury liner aground and kill more than 20 people while he bolted for the nearest Olive Garden bar stool. Let’s put it another way: He started in the water, in a glass-calm ocean, with no geese flying into his engines, and still managed to kill people. You started in the air and landed in a valley of skyscrapers into a relatively thin, very turbulent river without as much as wrinkling anybody’s suit jacket. Hell, half those people still made their connecting flights.
I think the F.A.A. should mandate that all pilots wear Sully masks as they greet passengers. I think they should make a Captain Sully Snuggie. I think there should be a Captain Sully app (I don't know what it would do; maybe make you a cup of hot cocoa and read you a book). I think Macy’s should have children visit you at Christmas.
Hold me, Captain Sully, and tell me everything’s gonna be all right.
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