Posted by: canaryinacoalmine | January 26, 2009

CVR of USAIR 1549



SIC: “Number two’s gone, boss.” 

Sully: “I know it! What do I look like, an R-22 pilot? Just shut the
f*cker down, boy. Oh, and tell Departure that we need to come back in and
land. F*cking birds…”

SIC: “Sheesh, somebody got up on the wrong side of his throne this morning.
You don’t have to insult me just because I got my commercial helicopter
rating in the mighty Robinson. Oh, and by the way, sir, we’re not climbing,
if you even care. Maybe your decision to take on that extra 5,000 pounds of
fuel wasn’t so hot, Captain.”

Sully: “One more comment like that and I’ll make sure the union keeps you
in RJ’s for the rest of your miserable, short career.”


Sully: “SON OF A BITCH!”

SIC: “Number one’s failing, boss.”

Sully: “I can see that! Am I a-f*cking-sleep? Can I not read the gauges?
Am I not flying the plane here?”

SIC: “I’m just sayin’…”

Sully: “Goddamn Canadians, sending their f*cking geese down here every
winter. Why, if I ever *see* another Canadian I’m gonna punch him right in
the throat. I *HATE* Canadians.”

SIC: “Everybody does, boss. Think we can make Teterboro or straight-in to
22 at Newark?”

Sully: “Yeah, probably. But f*ck Teterboro! Let’s go to Newark. I’ve
flown out of Teterboro. Short damn runways…always a crosswind. And their
FBO’s suck. I’d rather land in the Hudson f*cking river than land at
Teterboro. Hey….”

SIC: “You’re not…”

Sully: “Why not? Maybe we can take out some sailboats with some prick
Canadian snowbirds.”

SIC: “You ever land on the water before?”

Sully: “Plenty of times! I got my seaplane rating back in 1946. I think it
was in a…Piper…somethingoranother, I forget. Never mind. It’ll all
come back to me. Pull out the Before Water Landing checklist and run it.”

SIC: (flipping through the stack of checklists) “Can’t seem to find one for

Sully: “Fooled ya! HAH! There ain’t one! Just get on the horn and tell
the people to put their heads between their legs and kiss…no wait, that
won’t sound good on on the CVR tape…make it, ‘brace for collision’…no
wait, make it ‘brace for impact.’ Yeah, that’s better. No wait! Tell them
that out the left side of the plane they can see the Intrepid Museum, and
that if they’d like to visit it, they’ll be able to, this afternoon, like,
in about twenty minutes. Oh, and ring the stews and have them bring me a
rum and coke. If I’m gonna do this, I need a good stiff drink. And have
that one with the big tits bring it up. If I’m gonna die, I wanna die drunk
and with a boner.”

SIC: “Like your grandfather did?”

Sully: “This is no time to make jokes, son. I would really appreciate it
if you’d try to take this situation seriously. I’m fairly certain that my
grandfather did not die with a boner. I mean, have you ever met my

SIC: “You know, if you pull this off CNN will be calling you the Hero Pilot
of the Year.”

Sully: “F*ck CNN. Liberal bastards. All I care about is what the
fair-and-balanced Fox News will call me. I hope Fox News calls me a hero!”

SIC: (sighing) “They probably will too. Nobody will remember *my* name.
It’ll be ‘Sully this’…and, ‘Sully that.’ ‘Captain Sully, the big f*cking
hero.’ Like you are the only f*cking one in the cockpit.”

Sully: “You’re quite bitter. You really are a helicopter pilot at heart,
aren’t you? You know, some pilots wait their whole career to be called a
hero. I mean, Christ, I’ve only got two years to go to retirement. That
was close!”

SIC: “We’re not down yet, Captain Skygod.”

Sully: “I know, this thing glides pretty well, huh? Dammit, no sailboats.
Oh well, let’s see if we can buzz one of those damn sightseeing helicopters.
What’s best-glide/engines out?”

SIC: “Beats the shit outta me.”

Sully: “Vref?”

SIC: “F*ck if I know.”

Sully: “Britney Spears‘ birthday?”

SIC: “December 2, 1981.”

Sully: “Well, I’m glad you know SOMETHING! Just gimme full flaps…”



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