When I’m on the pier that extends into the Hudson River outside the office building where I work, I sometimes look up at the all the planes coming and going from LaGuardia, JFK and Newark airports, at all the helicopters buzzing around like prehistoric bugs, and I expect one of them to crash right then when I’m watching.  There’s too much going on.  And in New York City, weird and extreme things just happen sometimes.  The unexpected is to be expected.

I confess I’m usually a bit surprised and even disappointed that it doesn’t happen.  When you work in an office with a beige and charcoal gray color scheme, your survival instincts long for whatever excitement might be enough to break the life-crushing monotony.

So I was not shocked today to see U.S. Airways Flight 1549 drifting along in the Hudson’s current past my office building fifteen minutes after it had crash-landed into the river.  Perhaps I would have felt differently if all the passengers had not already been pronounced rescued and safe, but the sight was almost beautiful, like a closing scene that Godard might have pulled off during his Maoist period in the late 1960’s, if only he’d had the budget.  The plane’s length gently rotating as it drifts downstream with its fin jutting out of the water, surrounded by more than a dozen Coast Guard, police and tug boats with their flashing lights.  The mysterious presence of the Circle Line tourist boat in the mix–a nice touch.  Emergency helicopters hovering in a circle overhead.  The spinning red and blue lights of fire trucks and police cars on the opposite shoreline, celebrating the coming twilight.  Everything was in a gentle slow motion.

It has happened, I thought.  I missed it, but the inevitable has happened.  Gravity enjoys a victory over technology.

I do feel sorry for those geese, though.

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