Highest Duty_ My Search for What Really Matters - Chesley B. Sullenberger [102]
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