memorable experiences and interactions that otherwise would have been beyond our reach.
We’ve been plucked from obscurity, and every day the phone rings with an invitation to some new adventure: Buckingham Palace, a Jonas Brothers concert, dinner parties with hosts who would never have noticed us in our previous lives. We’re getting used to it, but Lorrie and I still find ourselves looking at each other and saying, “How did we get here?”
OUR LIVES became pretty surreal within minutes of the world’s learning about Flight 1549 on that Thursday afternoon.
My uniform was still wet from the Hudson when Lorrie and I began hearing from dignitaries, politicians, and the biggest names in the news media. It wasn’t just producers calling, but the on-air personalities themselves: Diane Sawyer, Katie Couric, Matt Lauer. While I was sloshing around the ferry terminal in my waterlogged shoes, back at my house, our two phone lines, the fax line, and Lorrie’s cell were all ringing simultaneously. One newspaper reporter even got hold of my daughter Kate’s cell-phone number and called looking for me.
By the morning after the incident, while I was still sequestered in New York, dozens of reporters and satellite trucks had gathered outside our house in Danville. Some of them would remain there for ten days.
Lorrie was poised but understandably emotional when she and the girls went outside on Friday morning to give the media a comment. “We’ve been asked—now I’m going to cry. I have been crying the whole time,” she said, then began again. “We have been asked not to say anything by US Air, so we’re not going to make any statements about much. But we’d just like to say that we are very grateful that everyone is off the plane safely. That was really what my husband asked to convey to everyone.”
A reporter asked how I was faring, and Lorrie answered: “He is feeling better today. You know, he’s a pilot. He’s very controlled and very professional…I have said for a long time that he’s a pilot’s pilot, and he loves the art of the airplane.”
The media picked up on that description, including it in hundreds of stories that followed. Friends and strangers told me that Lorrie wasn’t just a beautiful and loving wife. In the emotions of the moment, she turned out to be a pretty good spokesperson, too.
Lorrie was also asked how the family was taking the growing talk that I was a national hero. “It’s a little weird—overwhelming,” she answered. “I mean, the girls went to sleep last night talking, and I could hear them in the bedroom saying, ‘Is this weird or what?’”
I wasn’t able to see coverage of Lorrie’s impromptu press conference outside our house. In fact, I was too busy to watch any of the media coverage.
The night of the landing, I had gotten just two hours’ sleep. There was so much to do that night and the next day. I needed to have my wits about me for interviews with the National Transportation Safety Board. They had a great many questions. How much sleep had I gotten on Wednesday night? What did I eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner? Was my blood sugar low? How did I feel on my flight earlier in the day? Was I tired? Distracted? How many days earlier was my last drink of liquor? It had been more than a week. It was a beer.
There were a few lighter moments, too. When we got to the hotel on the night of the incident, we were still in our wet clothes. All our belongings, of course, were on the plane. A fellow pilot who had come to help us ran out to a convenience store and purchased toiletries for us. Because we had no dry clothing, he also bought Jeff and me an identical wardrobe: black sweat-suits, black socks, and black, size-34 low-rise briefs. A week later I told him, “My wife liked those low-rise briefs. They’re sexier than the whitey-tighties I normally wear.” Jeff responded: “Your wife may like yours, but I’m a lot thicker around the middle than you are. Looks like they gave us the same-size briefs. On me, it looks like a thong.”
I WAS in meetings all day Friday, feeling very stressed. I was used up. I was still trying to process everything, and I wanted to clearly recall what happened in the cockpit so I could help investigators sort out the details.
Then I heard that President George W. Bush, with just five days left in office, wanted to talk to me. Next thing I knew, he had called the cell phone of the vice president of our pilots’ union, Mike Cleary, who had been by my side for the past twenty hours. Mike handed the phone to me.
“Captain Sullenberger?”
“Yes, Mr. President,” I said.
He was very friendly from the start. “You know,” he said, “Laura and the staff and I were having something to eat and we were talking about you. I am in awe of your flying ability.”
I thanked him. He then had an important question for me.
“Aren’t you from Texas?”
“Yes, Mr. President,” I said.
He answered like a true Texan: “Well, that explains it!”
I had to smile.
Then he had another question: “Didn’t you fly fighters?”
“Yes,” I told him. “F-4 Phantoms.”
“I thought so,” he said. “I could tell.”
I didn’t ask him how exactly he could tell, but I enjoyed his easy manner, and his Texas-centric view of the whole incident. It was just a pleasant, friendly conversation, and I made sure to tell him that the flight and the rescue were a team effort. I mentioned Jeff, Donna, Sheila, Doreen, the ferry crews, and he acknowledged them.
Despite all that had happened out on the Hudson the previous night, I hung up the phone and just marveled at the way things work in America. Twenty hours before, I was just an anonymous pilot hoping to finish my last flight of a four-day trip, before quietly heading home. Now there I was, talking to the president like we were old buddies from Texas.
About ninety minutes later, I got another call. It was President-elect Barack Obama. He was also very friendly, though a bit more formal in his comments and questions. He invited me to the inauguration, and I immediately knew what my response had to be. I said, “Mr. President-elect, I’m honored, but may I presume to ask that should I be able to attend, it be on the condition that my entire crew and their families accompany me?”
He said yes.
And so we all went, and ended up meeting the new president privately at one of the inaugural balls. Even though it was his big night, he was very gracious and generous in his time with us. He joked with Lorrie. “You’re not letting all of this go to your husband’s head, are you?” he asked.
Lorrie answered: “People may think he’s a hero, but he still snores.”
President Obama started laughing. “You’ve got to tell my wife this,” he said. “That’s what she says about me.” Mrs. Obama was about ten feet away, and he called over to her, “Hey, Michelle, come here, you’ve got to hear this!”
He had Lorrie repeat her story about my snoring habits, and the two women had a nice laugh at the expense of the president and the pilot.
We kept receiving invitations in the wake of Flight 1549, and some of them we accepted because, well, these would be experiences of a lifetime. How could we turn them down? The Flight 1549 crew was introduced at the Super Bowl, and we got to see the game from perfect seats. Lorrie and I went to an Academy Awards party, where she sat next to Michael Douglas and I got to talk at length with Sidney Poitier.
I was invited to throw out the first pitch at the second game held at the new Yankee Stadium. I made sure I was prepared—I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of fifty-two thousand Yankee fans—so I practiced for the pitch a few days a week for more than a month at a baseball diamond near my house. One of my neighbors, Paul Zuvella, a former major-league infielder who played with four teams, including the Yankees, was kind enough to coach me. I thought I was doing OK, but when it came time for my big pitch, it was a little outside. At least it didn’t bounce. On the West Coast, I was also asked to throw first pitches at a San Francisco Giants game and an Oakland A’s game.
Though I got the most attention, being the captain of the flight, I was pleased when Jeff, Donna, Sheila, and Doreen were recognized for everything they did. They were at first reluctant to enter the media spotlight, but then they realized that they could help give insights to the world about what it takes to work in the airline industry. Jeff
