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As she talked excitedly on the phone about meeting me, Lorrie was just ahead of her and couldn’t help turning around at the mention of my name.

The young woman thought Lorrie had been just another random person on the elevator. “Wasn’t that the coolest thing, bumping into Sully like that?” she said.

Lorrie answered, “Well, I’m his wife.”

The young woman was a bit embarrassed. “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just that Sully’s story makes everyone feel so good. What he did on that flight was so impressive!”

Lorrie smiled, and reassured her that I’m a regular guy—and not always so impressive. “Listen,” she said, “I saw him walking around the hotel room this morning in his underwear.”

The woman walked off, talking into her cell phone. I’m guessing she told her friend all about Lorrie’s report from our hotel room.

IN THE weeks after Flight 1549, I finally got to read some of the newspaper stories and see a bit of the TV coverage. For the most part, the media did a pretty good job.

There was an incorrect description of me in one newspaper story that ended up getting repeated around the world. A “police source” was quoted as saying: “After the crash, Mr. Sullenberger was sitting in the ferry terminal wearing his hat, sipping his coffee and acting like nothing happened.” A rescuer was quoted as saying: “He looked absolutely immaculate. He looked like David Niven in a pilot’s uniform—he looked unruffled. His uniform was sharp.”

Yes, I was in uniform, but wearing a hat is now optional for pilots at my airline. It hasn’t been required for years, and I’m not big on wearing the hat. In fact, on January 15, my hat was at home in my bedroom closet in California. I also would argue with the dapper David Niven reference. I was actually feeling wet, rumpled, and a bit shell-shocked. (I did appreciate the comparison to David Niven, however, especially given his World War II service during the invasion of Normandy.)

Because of the great interest from journalists—the week after the flight, we were getting 350 media requests a day—I eventually agreed to do a few interviews. I wasn’t especially comfortable on TV. I’m still not. It doesn’t feel natural to me. But I feel I’ve gotten the hang of it now.

As things turned out, despite my initial unease before the cameras, I’ve done OK. There are a great many things I don’t know, but there are things I’m pretty sure about, including a lot of issues related to aviation. Most of what the media have asked me about are things I know, so I didn’t feel constantly stumped.

I also decided early on that I shouldn’t obsess or worry about the media, because they’re asking me about me, and of course, I know more about me than anyone else. I was rarely asked questions that were especially technical, and I made a point not to use too much jargon.

Many publications asked to conduct the first print interview with me, and rather than choose between, say, the Wall Street Journal, the Washington Post, and the New York Times, I decided it would be fun if I just went with the Wildcat Tribune. That’s the student newspaper at Dougherty Valley High School, which Kate attends. Jega Sanmugam, a sophomore and the front-page editor, did the interview. He was prepared. He was sharp. He asked great questions. And he didn’t make me nervous.

I also liked the idea of appearing in a newspaper that Kate actually reads. If I showed up in the Wildcat Tribune, maybe she would even think I was kinda cool.

WHILE IN New York for some interviews, Lorrie, the girls, and I took a break and went to see South Pacific at Lincoln Center. As we sat in the audience during the curtain call, the female lead, Kelli O’Hara, spoke about Flight 1549 and mentioned that I was in the audience. The spotlight focused on the four of us, and we then received a ninety-second standing ovation from our fellow theatergoers, which left Lorrie in tears. It was a graphic illustration to her of the enormity of the story of Flight 1549.

She was most moved because she sensed that they weren’t just standing for me and