The examiner was cordial, but it was clear he was all business. Not a small man, his imposing frame and New York accent signaled a certain directness. Ten minutes later I was in tears. So was he.
As Joe Puglia and I sniffed and wiped our eyes, we quickly sought to make it clear that we were manly men, aviators of great experience and fearless in our approach to airplanes and life in general. Joe reassured me that he had been a New York City cop, and I told him of my young life in the city and how I went to medical school there. We were a couple of tough New Yorkers simpering like a pair of teenage Lindsay Lohan fans. How did this lachrymose scene happen, this undoing of two men of a certain age?
