Amanda Ripley Author of The Unthinkable

Last night, Capt. “Sully” explained to Katie Couric what it felt like to ditch US Airways 1549 in the Hudson River. It was remarkable TV, especially since 60 Minutes also talked to the crew (who have gotten far too little attention so far) and shot footage of a strange and joyful reunion between the crew and the passengers.

I was, first of all, struck by the familiarity of Capt. Sully’s all-business description of his initial reaction when both engines failed. In so many words, this is something I have heard again and again from survivors of every kind of disaster.

“My initial reaction was one of disbelief. ‘I can’t believe this is happening. This doesn’t happen to me.’... I had this expectation that my career would be one in which I wouldn’t crash an airplane.”

It’s a perfectly understandable reaction, especially as articulated in that last line. But it’s important to expect this disbelief—not panic or hysteria—if we are to plan for emergencies in any meaningful way. In Capt. Sully’s case, his training kicked in very quickly and he lost no time in this phase of disbelief. But for some people, this phase never ends.

The second thing that resonated with me was the reassurance that Capt. Sully felt when he heard the flight attendants responding to his announcement (90 seconds before impact) to “brace for impact.”

I made the brace for impact ann in the cabin, and immediately, through the hardened cockpit door, I heard the flight attendants begin shouting their commands in response to my command to brace: heads down, stay down, I could hear them clearly and they were chanting it in unison over and over again to warn them, to instruct them, and I felt very comforted by that. I knew immediately that they were on the same page. That if I could land the airplane, that they could get them out safely.

“I made the ‘brace for impact’ announcement in the cabin, and immediately, through the hardened cockpit door, I heard the flight attendants begin shouting their commands in response to my command to brace: ‘Heads down. Stay down.’ I could hear them clearly, and they were chanting it in unison over and over again to warn them, to instruct them, and I felt very comforted by that. I knew immediately that they were on the same page. That if I could land the airplane, that they could get them out safely.”

Interestingly, a flight attendant also told Couric that the passengers had not panicked. In fact, when the crew shouted for the passengers to “brace,” some of them did not do so. They were looking out the window, trying to figure out what was going on. Again, a perfectly reasonable reaction—especially since very few people know what “brace for impact” means. Although it is what the crew is supposed to say, it is a phrase that is most useful to people who have trained for crash landings.

Regular people, especially frightened regular people, are not likely to instantly react to such an unusual request. I’ve long thought that the airlines should change this phrasing to something we all understand. Something like, “Put your head between your knees.” Of course, that’s a bit on the long side, I realize… Suggestions welcome.

According to one flight attendant, some people were even making calls on their cell phones.

More on the 60 Minutes report coming soon…

Remember when the first reports came out about how those silly Somali pirates had made a big mistake by hijacking a Ukrainian arms freighter four months ago? Remember how war ships from around the world converged on the scene, and everyone tittered about the bumbling pirates and their dark fate?

Those pirates just made off with $3.2 million in ransom, dropped by parachute onto the ship. They left the ship and are free, at least for now. So free that one of the pirates had time to complain to the New York Times about how long the whole process had taken—before he moved on to his next hunt.

My first reaction is: Dudes!

Why would any company or country pay this ransom, knowing it will be publicized around the world, guaranteeing a festival of hijackings in the days and months to come? Why would the guided missile destroyer USS Howard, which was floating nearby and watching over the pirates this many months, surrender? This is a ship with surface-to-air missiles, Tomahawk cruise missiles, anti-submarine rockets, torpedoes, and a five-inch rapid-fire deck gun. And they just sat tight.

Now I know there was a 21-member crew onboard the hijacked ship. Lives were at stake. So were 33 tanks, 150 grenade launchers and 6 antiaircraft guns—possibly destined for Sudan, allegedly the property of Kenya. Hard to say which mattered more to the countries fretting over the freighter, though I think you can guess.

But this is a major capitulation in a very nasty, complex war. Check out this Al Jazeera clip about why Somali pirates consider themselves members heroes, environmentalists and patriots:

Before we give police the authority to block cell signals, we should talk to the people whose lives were saved because of cell signals.

In the Mumbai terrorist attacks, people used text messages and phone calls to communicate.

On 9/11, phones in the hands of regular people saved the Capitol or the White House from destruction. On Flight 93, passengers used cell phones and airphones to learn that other planes had hit the Trade Center. Had they not had this information, they may never have rushed the cockpit.

According to the 9-11 Commission Report:

“These calls between family, friends, and colleagues took place until the end of the flight and provided those on the ground with firsthand accounts. They enabled the passengers to gain critical information, including the news that two aircraft had slammed into the World Trade Center…At least ten passengers and two crew members shared vital information with family, friends, colleagues, or others on the ground….According to one call, they voted on whether to rush the terrorists in an attempt to retake the plane. They decided, and acted. At 9:57, the passenger assault began.”

Congress should remember these phone calls when considering whether to ban them.

The Washington Post writes that the feds jammed wireless signals in DC on inauguration day—and state and local officials are trying to get the right to do the same thing. This is frightening news.

The intent is noble enough: stop terrorists from detonating bombs and coordinating with each other—by temporarily jamming all cell phones and other wireless devices near a potential security threat.

But the cost is much, much higher than the Post story—or any of the supporters of the idea acknowledge. This is a classic case of emergency plans being written for emergency officials.

In fact, in major disasters, regular people do the majority of the lifesaving. They text and tell each other which houses are on fire, how many planes have hit the Towers, where to go to escape the rising water. People have learned over the years to use cell phones to save lives—far more efficiently than government agencies.

Yes, it’s true that terrorists exploit the same tools the rest of us rely upon, and it has always been so. But the best solution is never a blunt one. It’s worth remembering that this technology was designed for the U.S. military to use in Iraq, where IEDs were being planted at the rate of 90 per day in 2007. (Interestingly, terrorists adapted rather quickly to the jamming technology by hardwiring their detonators.)

But as with other profitable military technology, once it exists, it’s hard to prevent it from spreading into the homeland. People stand to make money and see opportunity here. But this is not a war zone, not yet.

Terrorists also use TV news. Should we shut that down, too? Terrorists use GPS systems. Why are they so easy to buy? What about maps? Google? Box cutters? The solution has to be smarter than this. When Timothy McVeigh used 5,000 lbs of fertilizer to blow up the Murrah Building, did we ban fertilizer? No, we asked merchants to track sales of ammonium nitrate and report unusual interest in the product. Is it a perfect solution? No. It’s a compromise, just like every risk calculus we make. If we want to save lives by banning cell phones, we should do it behind the wheel, where talking on a cell phone quadruples your chance of getting in an accident.

Check out 20/20’s segment on Tilly, the 10-year-old girl who saved dozens of people in Thailand in 2004 because she knew the natural warning signs of a tsunami. I was intrigued to see how her parents moved through the three phases of disaster think: denial, deliberation and the decisive moment. Luckily, they moved quickly.

In the dead-tree version of Time this week, I have a piece on the crash of Flight 1549—and why it would never go down that way if it were a scene on the show 24.

I’m in Honolulu now to speak to the Pacific Preparedness conference. It’s so beautiful I don’t even want to tell you about it. It just seems wrong. But I will tell you that I sat next to Honlulu Mayor Mufi Hannemann on the flight from DC. The Mayor turns out to be quite the celebrity. During the flight, the pilot, all the flight attendants and several passengers came by to meet him. He was very gracious.

Like me, the Mayor had spent the past few days at inauguration festivities. (Not only is he a Hawaii VIP; he also coached a basketball team that played Obama’s team when he was in high school. He’s like family, this guy!) We talked a bit about what a surreal experience the inauguration was, and we agreed that it will probably never happen again.

Starting on Saturday, there was a buzz in the air. By Sunday, we couldn’t move our car because we knew we’d never get a parking space again. On Monday, I tried to work at a local coffee shop, and I quickly discovered that there were no empty seats left in the city. But the remarkable thing was the exuberance. People walked miles through town to get to the Mall, cameras hanging from their necks and Obama buttons on every piece of clothing. Strangers said hello and smiled like kids on a snow day. On Sunday, we ventured to the Mall to hear U2 and get a glimpse of the action. In front of us, by the Washington Monument, an old man in a Terps hat and sweats just danced and danced, like the happiest man alive. Everytime the JumboTron flashed a picture of Obama’s smiling face, people cheered.

I haven’t felt that much palpable connection between strangers since I lived in Manhattan after 9/11. I don’t know what this means. I do know it won’t last forever, nor should it. But it was lovely.

The Mall is packed. The bridges out of DC are shut down. People are cold and tired. Check out my story for Slate about how to survive a crowd crush.