The Note

...point eight

pan transit 848.

See you next time.

Have a happy holidays, 848.

Middleborough approach,

pan transit 848 descending

through one-two thousand.

Pt 848, middleborough approach,

radio contact sixty Miles

north of the airport.

Reduce speed

to two-one-zero knots.

You're cleared

at one-zero thousand,

squawk six-three-seven-one.

Pt 848 copy.

Cleared to one-zero thousand.

Maintain two-one-zero,

squawking six-three-zero-one.

Morning, Jim.

Hey, Peyton,

how's the column goin'?

Have you been

reading it?

Occasionally.

And?

And your picture

looks great.

Middleborough approach, pt 848.

we're experiencing

a little electrical problem.

848, are you declaring

an emergency?

Not at this time,

middleborough.

We'd just like to expedite

our landing.

He liked my picture.

My writing sucks,

but he liked my picture.

Morning, chief.

Don't call me chief.

This is not

the daily planet.

And don't ever

ask anyone

what they think

of your column.

I don't have

a column.

Yeah, well,

I'm beginning to wish

I didn't either.

speaking of which,

Nora wants to see you

and I quote,

"the second she drags

her butt in here."

Perfect. She probably

wants to comment

on my picture too.

What?

What have you got

on your face?

It's part of the look.

Just so you know,

most people pay to have

stuff like that removed.

Middleborough approach,

pt 848,

we got a generator issue here;

We're losing altitude.

848, say again.

I say again,

we're losing power to avionics.

We're gonna declare

an emergency at this time.

Standby 848.

Kb air, one-one-four,

middleborough-

fire control,

we have an emergency

on final approach,

runway 2-1 right.

Macgruder.

How goes the struggle

"to uplift and inform"?

Impressive, Kingston.

You are probably the only one

at "the times"

who not only knows what it says

on our masthead,

but actually quotes it.

This paper's my life,

Peyton.

I thought you knew that.

Hey, hey, hey.

What's your hurry?

Why don't you pull up a step,

chat for a minute?

I can't. I've been called

to the principal's office.

What're you doing

out here anyway?

Smokin' a cigar.

A cigar?

It's virtual.

What?

I would if I could.

Pt 848, middleborough.

We've got you at 20 Miles

straight in.

Descend to five thousand.

We seem to be getting fumes

in the cockpit;

could be an electrical fire.

848, you're cleared to land

on runway two-one right.

Winds are variable,

three knots.

Altimeter two-niner-niner one.

Got your message.

Good. Sit down.

Sounded kind of urgent.

Well, results are in

from the last readers' survey

and the corporate

bean counters

have made some

recommendations.

Such as?

Such as dumping

your column.

They can't do that.

Please, of course they can.

Look at these numbers.

Out of our four regular

features,

your column ranks

the lowest.

How many emails

do you get a week?

Dozens.

When Emma Duncan

wrote the column

she got a thousand.

In the ten months

since she died

and you took over

"the heart healer",

your readership

has steadily declined.

My column is filled

with good,

practical information.

Which is fine

for the style section.

During your time there,

your writing was excellent.

But when you asked

for your own column

and this became available,

I told you

you'd have to do more,

you'd have to give it

your all.

I am!

You're not!

You're not giving it

that part of you it needs

to attract a following.

"The heart healer"

has no heart.

You're not touching

your readers.

Pt 848, middleborough,

we have you at

six Miles on final.

Do you have

visual contact?

Maintain stable flight level-

pt 848, say again.

Everybody in life jackets now!

- We've got fire on-board.

- I repeat...

Emergency equipment is deployed

and standing by.

We have you at four Miles.

Maintain descent.

Pan transit 848,

middleborough.

Pt 848, middleborough,

acknowledge.

Pt 848, middleborough,

acknowledge!

Christmas is in three weeks.

If you can't hook your readers

during the holidays

you never will.

Excuse me, Nora.

A pan transit jet

just crashed off the coast.

Oh my God.

Improve these numbers

by Christmas...

Or you're out.

Pan transit flight 848,

flying towards jfk,

experienced a catastrophic

electrical failure

and crashed into the ocean,

just off middleborough,

north Carolina...

You okay?

A pan transit spokesman

reported one hundred and-

the airline just released

the passenger list;

I knew a couple of people

on that flight.

Oh God, king,

I'm sorry.

Tom Harold and his wife.

He was the pitching coach

at state

when I played for him

about a hundred years ago.

And I thought I was having

a bad day.

You want to grab a coffee,

have that chat now?

Chat, yes.

Coffee...

No.

He was the best damn coach

and teacher I ever had.

And here you go.

thank you.

Cool wife, too.

Adrienne.

She insisted

that he take her

to no less than

two Broadway shows

every year.

That's probably why

they were in New York.

I guess you never know.

I wonder...

If they did know.

What?

Your friends,

the other people on the plane -

I wonder if they knew

they were gonna die?

jeez, macgruder,

morbid much?

I'm sorry.

I just can't stop

thinking about it.

You know?

I mean, was it sudden?

Did they all die instantly?

Or did they have

some time...

To say goodbye,

to say "I love you",

hold each other

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