Look dude! I can see the Capitol from here...
Understandably, Washington D.C. residents were alarmed today when a single-engine plane wandered into restricted airspace over the city. Military jets were duly scrambled and major government buildings quickly evacuated. Fortunately, the plane was not an impending terror plot, but had merely wandered off course and not responded to radio signals. However, in this day and age that's a receipe for a sidewinder enema (not this kind of receipe).
Now that the "all clear" has been sounded, we can all breathe a little easier and recognize this for what it was: an honest mistake. Just to confirm this, DOUI has obtained the voice recorder from the plane in question.* Here it is for your perusal (French for "checking out with one raised eyebrow".) The names have been obscured to protect, well... to protect us from needless legal harassment if you want the honest truth.
************
Pilot: Well, we're lost dude. We were doin' fine flying by the sun and the horizon, but I aint got a clue as to where we are now.
Co-Pilot: You're certainly right, dude, number 2. You are cer-tain-ly right.
Pilot: Hey, is that a river down below, man?
Co-Pilot: You're certainly right, dude, number 2. You are cer-
Pilot: Knock it off, already. Chump.
Co-Pilot: Sorry.
Pilot: Yeah, that sure is a river. We can use that to navigate by. We'll follow that into the nearest big town and land at the local airport. Man, this extreme navigating sucks.
(minutes pass... they both stare at the river with fixed beady eyes, waiting for it to reveal its secrets. I'm guessing of course, as it's tape.)
Co-Pilot: Cool! I think I saw a girl in a bikini down there.
Pilot: Shhweeettt, dude! We're gonna have to go water-sking down here one of these days.
Co-Pilot: Hey man, I think we're getting close to a town now. Check out the suburbia, dude.
Pilot: Righteous. Hey, turn on the radio. Maybe we can pick up something.
(an FM radio swtiches on. Weezer is playing. Some song of theirs. Oh, I don't know which song...use your imagination. Something loud.)
Pilot: Perfect! Turn it up dude!
(a loud roaring sound can be heard)
Co-Pilot: Righteous sound man - this plane must have digital satelitte radio!
(more loud roaring sounds)
Pilot: (seriously) Hey dude, I think we're not alone up here.
Co-Pilot: Of course we're not dude, we're here together.
Pilot: No, dork. As in the plane is not alone.
(an F-16 sweeps by at over 600 miles an hour. I can tell by the reverberations. Seriously!)
Co-Pilot: Oh man... do...you... know... what is going on, dude?
Both: We're in the middle of a Thunderbirds show!! Coooool.
Pilot: (abruptly) Dude, Thunderbird number 1 doesn't look happy.
Co-Pilot: What's the pointing down sign mean?
Pilot: Maybe our radio's turned up too high and is interfering with the static triangular frequencies of their oscillation units?
Co-Pilot: Dude, you just made that up.
Pilot: Busted!
Co-Pilot: Hey dude, what's the finger across the throat sign mean?
Pilot: I'm not sure, dude but that can't be good. Maybe we messed up their cool formation or something?
Co-Pilot: Hey man, is that like the Washington Monument straight ahead?
(transmission ends - but only because someone apparently spilled Mountain Dew on the black box.)
* according to a source who may or may not be this author.
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