An office somewhere in the middle of America.
THE PILOT, middle aged, blonde, baby faced, sits in front of a desk, waiting.
Enter THE BOSSMAN, who sits behind his desk. He’s far older.
THE BOSSMAN
So.
THE PILOT
So.
THE BOSSMAN
Are you gonna tell me what-in-the-hell it was you were thinking, son?
THE PILOT
Safety first is my motto, sir.
THE BOSSMAN
Yes, but now we look like racists.
THE PILOT
But we can’t be too sure now, can we? That’s what I’ve been taught. That’s how I’ve been trained.
THE BOSSMAN
We have a helluva racial discrimination suit on our hands.
THE PILOT
Look, what should I have done? I had a bunch of flight attendants running around screaming that there was a guy with a bomb on his head, praying in a foreign language.
THE BOSSMAN
It never occurred to you that he was Jewish? Apparently, he told you he was Jewish, is that right?
THE PILOT
Yes.
THE BOSSMAN
In fact, I’m told he was very cooperative. Is that right?
THE PILOT
Yes, but.
THE BOSSMAN
And yet you still called it in as a bomb threat.
THE PILOT
How was I supposed to know he was telling the truth? I’ve never heard of what he called what he was wearing. And it was wrapped up and down his arm, too.
THE BOSSMAN
Look, they want heads on a silver platter and yours will have to be it. I’m sorry.
THE PILOT
What?
THE BOSSMAN
This is your three months notice, son. I’m very sorry.
THE PILOT
Over a goddamn beanie?
THE BOSSMAN
Over the mishandling of a situation.
THE PILOT
If it were a rag head, I’d be hailed as a hero right now.
THE BOSSMAN
But it wasn’t a rag head, it was over a Hebe and now we look like racists. I’m sorry, son. Very sorry. If it were up to me, it wouldn’t end this way, but, well, you gotta give the public what they want.
He stands. THE PILOT stands. THE BOSSMAN guides him to the door.
THE PILOT
But what do I tell my wife? What do I tell my kids? I am the hero, god damn it. I did the right thing.
THE BOSSMAN
Just keep telling them that. And they’ll believe it. That’s what they’re there for.
They shake hands.
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