Lowell enters the airport with his metal detector.
Lowell: Hi, Fay.
Fay: Oh, hi, Lowell. Uh, did you find anything with your new metal detector?
Lowell: Even more than I dreamed of. This perfectly good, flattened piece of rusty metal, this half of a car antenna, and this medic-alert bracelet. Figure I’ll give that to the missis.
Fay: Does she have Angina?
Lowell: No, she had an Aunt Sophie, but she died of a heart attack.
Fay: I’m sorry.
Lowell: Well, thank you. But it happened a long time ago.
Fay: No, I’m sorry I asked.
People are in the Sandpiper Air hangar for the blood drive.
Helen: Here you go, Fay. I just baked a fresh batch of cookies.
Fay: Oh, thank you, Helen. That’s so sweet of you to donate those to our blood drive.
Helen: Donate them?
Helen: Oh, sure. And he juice, too, right?
Fay: Yes, bless you.
Helen: Oh, my pleasure.
Brian arrives. A nurse approaches him.
Carrie: Hi, I’m Carrie.
Brian: Oh, like the movie, huh? I didn’t recognize you without that bucket of blood on your head.
Carrie does not look amused.
Carrie: Wow, you have great forearms.
Brian: Oh, these little things?
Carrie: Yeah, they’re perfect for giving blood. Too much muscle tone really gets in the way.
Roy and Lowell are lying down donating blood.
Lowell: So, Roy, is this your first time?
Lowell: Ah, I give blood all the time. Just between you and me, I’ll do anything for a sugar cookie.
Roy: I’ll give you mine if you’ll shut up. I’m starting to feel a little woozy.
Lowell: Ah, you just have to get your mind off the fact that there’s a steel needle plunged into your vein.
Roy looks terrified.
Lowell: I have an idea. Let’s have a contest to see who can fill their bag faster.
Lowell starts moving his arms up and down.
Roy: Nurse? Nurse?
Lowell moves his legs up and down.
Lowell: Come on, look at that blood gush.
Roy looks at Lowell.
Joe: Fay, you know those little gold wings I wear all the time? You seen those around anywhere?
Fay: No. But I can get you another pair.
Joe: No, it has to be that pair. They’re sort of a good luck charm. I got ‘em the first time I flew. I was 8, and my parents took me to Chicago. God, I was so excited.
Fay: Oh, I can imagine.
Joe: I asked the stewardess if I could be the pilot. She said no, but she had somethin’ even better. She took the little gold wings off her uniform, pinned ‘em on my jacket and said “There, now you’re an honorary captain.” And I knew right then and there that somehow, someway, flying would always be part of my life.
Fay: Oh, my, that’s eerie.
Fay: Well, I used to fly out of Chicago, and I distinctly remember a little boy asking me if he could fly the plane. I told him no, too. And then I gave him the wings off my uniform.
Joe: Fay, are you saying you think that I was that little boy?
Fay: Not unless you used to be a little black child. Uh, but the part about the wings was spooky, wasn’t it?
Joe: Oh, yeah.
Fay: Well,uh, don’t worry about the wings, Joe. I’ll put notices up around the airport.
Joe: Great. Thanks.
Fay: Uh, have you given blood yet?
Joe: Uh, no, not yet. But I’m really busy right now. I’ll do it later.
Fay: Oh, Joe, don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little needle? Even Roy’s giving blood.
Fay points at Roy. Roy groans.
Joe: Fay, I don’t have time for this right now.
Joe walks away. A doctor approaches Joe.
Dr. Bennett: Hi, Joe.
Joe: Oh! Hey, hi, Dr. Bennett.
Dr. Bennet: I missed you last week. I thought we had an appointement.
Joe: We did? Uh, did I—did I miss that? Oh, I’m sorry. I-I-I’ve been so busy. We’ll have to reschedule.
Dr. Bennett: Uh, now’s a good time.
Joe: Uh, I—I really…I’ve got—
Dr. Bennett: Have a seat, Joe. So, how have you been feeling?
Joe: I’ve been feelin’ great. Getting’ a lot of rest. Workin’ out three times a week, eatin’ a lot of fish.
Dr. Bennett: Glad to hear it.
Joe: Yeah. Oh, I was thinkin’ about getting one of those stair machines, but the store that sells them is on the 3rd floor.I didn’t feel like walkin’ up.
Dr. Bennett checks Joe’s blood pressure. Joe laughs.
Joe: So, am I gonna live?
Dr. Bennett: Not if you keep telling jokes like that. It’s even higher than last time. You know what this means? I’m gonna have to file that report with the F.A.A.
Joe: How about we go 2 out of 3?
Dr. Bennett: Sorry, Joe.
Brian is lying on a cot donating blood.
Brian: Hey, what’s the matter, bro? Hey, you look about as white as Roy’s legs.
Joe: My blood pressure’s too high. I’ve been grounded.
Helen enters the Sandpiper Air office with a plate of sandwiches.
Helen: Hey, Joe. Thought you might be hungry.
Joe: Oh, not really, but thanks anyway.
Helen: Well, you might want it later.
Helen sets the plate on Joe’s desk. Joe takes a folder and walks over to the filing cabinet.
Helen: You ok, Joe?
Joe tries to fit the folder inside the drawer.
Helen: You wanna talk about it?
Joe: Well, there’s nothin’ much to say, really. My blood pressure’s been creepin’ up for a while and I just kept hopin’ the problem would go away.
Helen: Is it serious?
Joe: Nah. But can you believe it? I have to take medication for hypertension. Me, of all people.
Joe forces the folder inside the drawer. Joe punches the folder and slams the drawer.
Helen: Yeah, go figure.
Lowell enters the office.
Lowell: Joe, just want you to know how sorry I am.
Joe: Thanks, Lowell.
Lowell: Are you ok?
Joe: I’m fine.
Lowell: I just wanted to let you know that sometimes things can be taken care of with a crow bar.
Lowell: Just stick it in there and pry it out.
Helen hides her face in her hand.
Joe: Lowell, what are you talking about?
Lowell: Talkin’ about that dairy truck that sideswiped your car out on the parking lot. Well, on the plus side, three bottles of milk landed in your back seat. I didn’t say anything.
Helen: Boy, this isn’t your day, is it?
Joe: You’re tellin’ me. I just bought milk this morning.
Roy enters the office.
Roy: Oh, Hackett. I know you’re probably in no mood for company. I just came by to see if you’re ok.
Joe: I’m fine.
Roy: Good. I can’t tell you how sorry I am to hear about you being grounded.
Joe: Thanks, Roy. I appreciate that.
Roy: I know how much flying means to you, Hackett. So, if you need anything, someone to talk to, someone to lean on, someone to—
Joe: The airline’s not for sale, Roy.
Roy: Well, if you change your mind.
Joe steps out of his office.
Joe: Where the hell is Brian? That flight was supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago. I knew I couldn’t trust him.
Fay: Now, calm down, Joe. Remember what the doctor said.
Joe: Right, right. You just let me know when Brian gets here.
Joy slams the office door. Roy approaches the Sandpiper Air counter bringing with him a folder with some documents.
Fay: Uh, where do you think you’re going?
Roy: When Joe sees his offer, he’s gonna beg me to buy Sandpiper.
Fay: I—I don’t think this is the best time. Joe’s a little upset.
Roy: Are you kidding? There isn’t a better time. His defenses are down. He isn’t thinking clearly. In five minutes, I’ll have him curled up under the desk in a fetal position.
Roy enters the Sandpiper Air office. Lowell arrives with his metal detector.
Lowell: Hi, Fay.
Fay: Oh, hi, Lowell. Did you find Joe’s wings?
Lowell: No, but ever consider the possibility that they spontaneously combusted? Things like that happen all the time.
Fay: Lowell, that is the most ridiculous—
Joe: I’m not selling, Roy!
Roy steps out of the office blowing the fire out of his documents.
Lowell: Oh, what was I thinking?
Lowell leaves. Joe steps out of the office and looks at the airport entrance.
Joe: Fay, Brian’s not gonna show up. You’re gonna have to make another announcement to the passengers. Tell ‘em—
Fay: Joe, this is my job. I think I can handle an announcement.
Fay speaks on the PA.
Fay: Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. We’re very sorry for the delay in boarding Sandpiper Air Flight 7 to Hyannis. But due to unforeseen circumstances, your pilot is doing an important, uh…uh, pilot thing.
Fay turns to Joe.
Fay: I choked.
Brian: Uh, sorry I’m late, everybody, but they were showin’ The Nutty Professor on the Spanish station.
Brian speaks Spanish. Joe approaches Brian.
Joe: Brian, Brian, you’re late.
Brian: Why, I’m fifteen minutes late. I’ll make it up in the air.
Joe: And look at you. When are you gonna start dressing like a pilot? I have told you, when you come to work, I want you dressed like this.
Joe points at his outfit.
Brian: Uh, sorry, Joe, but with al the flying I have been doing, I haven’t had time to go shopping at “Mr. Dull Man”.
Joe: Brian, I’m depending on you. And if you can’t handle this, just say so.
Brian: I never said I couldn’t handle it.
Joe: L-Let me tell you something, Brian. I handled it. Before you got here, I flew fulltime and ran the office.
Brian: Well, that’s ‘cause you’re wonderful, Joe. In fact, you should have your name legally changed to “Wonderful Joe”.
Brian enters the Sandpiper Air office. Joe looks at Fay.
Fay: I like it.
Joe enters the office.
Joe: Why I ever thought you were gonna grow up--
Brian makes his way to the door, but Joe closes it.
Joe: And take some responsibility, I’ll never know. This arrangement isn’t gonna work.
Brian: Work? I don’t wanna here the word “work” comin’ out of anybody’s mouth who isn’t doin’ any.
Joe: What are you talkin’ about? I’m workin’ harder than you are.
Brian: Oh, please. When you start flying your maximum hours, then come talk to me. As it is, the most strenuous thing you do all day is flap your gums at me.
Joe: That’s because all you ever do is screw up.
Brian: Oh, you know, I’m really startin’ to get sick of this. And ever since you’ve been grounded you’ve been takin’ it out on me. I don’t need this aggravation.
Joe: Me aggravate you?
Joe: That’s a laugh.
Brian: Oh, now what is that supposed to mean now?
Joe: I didn’t have hypertension before you got here. I have it now. Figure it out.
Brian: Whoa, come on. Now you’re blamin’ me for your blood pressure? While you are at it, why don’t you add world hunger, the collapse of the free market economy, and the sorry state of morals in the American cinema?
Joe: Hey, who knows what you do with your free time?
Brian: You know what your real problem is? You cannot handle the fact that for the first time in your life, you need me.
Joe: No, I don’t need you.
Brian: Oh, the hell you don’t. I’m the only thing keepin’ this airline from going down the tubes, big man.
Joe: If it took memore than ten minutes to replace you, I’d be shocked.
Brian: Replace me faster than it takes to get your hair done right in the morning? Keep dreamin’. ‘cause without me, Sandpiper’s history, bub.
Joe: Oh, you really think so, huh?
Brian: Oh, I know so. Nobody would want this job. Nobody could stand this job. The only reason I stayed this long, was so I could get my hours up, so I could start flyin’ for a major carrier.
Joe: Well, in case you haven’t noticed, the pilots at T.W.A. do not wear t-shirts that say, “I brake for Superman”.
Brian: Well, when I start flyin’ big time, I’ll start dressin’ big time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go fly a plane. Unless you’d…oh, sorry.
Brian steps out.
Brian: Ok, load ‘em up, Fay.
Fay talks on the PA.
Fay: Sandpiper Air Flight 7 will now begin boarding.
Joe steps out of the office.
Joe: Fay, cancel that flight.
Fay: Due to unforeseen difficulties, Flight 7 has been canceled.
Brian: Joe, don’t be a jerk. Fay, do the announcement.
Fay: Re-announcing the re-boarding of flight 7.
Joe: Cancel it.
Fay: Uh, Sandpiper Air flight 7 has been re-canceled.
Joe approaches the Sandpiper Air counter.
Joe: You’re fired.
Fay: Me? He’s the one—
Joe: No, no, not you, Fay.
Brian; Oh, so I-I’m fired, huh? Well, I guess this is, uh, where I’m supposed to say, “You can’t fire me. I quit.” Well, I’m not going to, because I want you on the hook for unemployment.
Brian walks away.
Brian: Oh, what the hell? You can’t fire me! I quit!
Joe: Fay, I guess you’re gonna have to—
Fay: No-uh, no, sir. No way. You want another announcement, you make it yourself.
Joe is on the phone.
Joe: So, you’re calling about the pilot’s job, huh? Yeah, it’s still open. Uh-huh, that’s right, a Cessna 402. Well, the salary I had in mind was a little lower than that. Lower. Uh, lower. Yeah, lower. Look, I—I don’t think this is gonna work out. Thanks anyway. Lower.
Helen enters the Sandpiper Air office.
Helen: Hey, Joe, how’s the pilot search goin’?
Joe: Well, you think I would’ve found someone in four days. I didn’t realize I was paying so badly. Yesterday, I had somebody turn me down to be the heat lamp guy at McDonald’s.
Helen: So what are you gonna do?
Joe: I don’t know. I made this month’s payments with the last of my savings. That still leaves the gate rental, uh, insurance, and fuel bills. Everyday the plane doesn’t fly, I get that much closer to shutting down for good.
Joe: Yeah? Lower.
Joe hangs up and sighs.
Helen: Hey, I jus had an idea. I know a pilot that might want the job.
Joe: R-r-really? That’s great. Who is it?
Helen: Well, rumor has it you two took baths together when you were little.
Joe: Helen, I’m not hiring Brian back.
Helen: I wasn’t necessarily talkin’ about Brian, but since you mentioned him why not?
Joe: Because I’m not. That’s final. Uh, w-why are you so interested in having him back here anyway?
Helen: Because I love him and I’m carrying his baby.
Helen: Don’t be stupid, Joe. You’re so pig-headed sometimes. Just talk to him.
Joe: Hiring Brian back is not an option. Besides, he moved out three days ago. I don’t even know where he is. And I don’t care.
Helen: Ok, you dragged it out of me. He’s in St. Louis. He’s applying for T.W.A. flight school. And here’s his number.
Helen takes out a piece of paper and hands it to Joe. Joe takes it, crumples it and throws it in the trash.
Helen: Joe, I’m just trying to help.
Joe: Well, if you really want to help, then stay out of it.
Helen: Well, you still have to find a pilot, you big jerk.
Helen makes her way out the door.
Joe: I’ll find a pilot. I’ll find a great pilot. Somewhere.
Joe walks to his plane. The hangar gates open and a man enters.
Deke Braverman: You Joe Hackett?
The man approaches Joe.
Deke Braverman: Deke Braverman. I hear you’re having a little problem.
Joe: Yeah, you could say that.
Deke Braverman: I was a captain for Delta for 15 years. Maybe I could help you out.
Joe: Talk about a miracle. I—I—I don’t know what star brought you here, but thank you. Thank you. Thank you, you’re a godsend.
Deke Braverman: We do what we can.
Deke Braverman pulls out something from his pocket and hands it to Joe.
Joe: What’s this?
Deke Braverman: Pair of wings. Saw a notice on the board that you’d lost yours. Got a whole box of these at home.
Joe: You mean, you’re not here to be my pilot?
Deke Braverman: For what you’re paying?
Deke Braverman: Son, I wouldn’t wash your plane for that.
Joe: Hey, these are plastic.
Deke laughs. The hangar doors close. Joe throws the plastic wings. He steps out of the hangar and walks over to the Aeromass counter.
Joe: Roy, draw up another set of papers. I’m ready to sell.
Roy: Don’t toy with me, Hackett.
Joe: I’m serious.
Roy: This is too good. This is too perfect. Shh, shh. Don’t anybody say a word. I wanna bask in the glory of this moment.
Joe: But there’s one condition to the sale. You gotta keep Fay on.
Roy: Oh, no, not Amelia Airhead.
Joe: I mean it.
Roy: Ok, ok, ok.
Joe approaches Helen.
Helen: Sell your airline? What kind of stupid idea is that? Are you out of your freakin’ mind! Just what are you planning to do instead?
Joe: I’ve been thinking about opening up a frozen yogurt shop.
Helen: What? Are you crazy? You want a bunch of kids throwing gummy bears at your head and calling you pops?
Joe: Helen, you don’t understand.
Joe: Yogurt and flying really aren’t that different, when you think about it. When you’re flying, you feel like you’re gonna live forever and when you’re pumping yogurt…ok, they’re totally different.
Helen: You know what I think? I think you’re angry at yourself because you can’t fly. And you’re angrier at Brian because he can. You can’t have it your way, so like a spoiled little brat you wanna take your ball and go home.
Joe: Oh, oh, really?
Joe: Well, what would you do if someone told you, you couldn’t play the cello anymore?
Helen: Well, I sure as hell wouldn’t give up music. Joe, don’t give up your airline just ‘cause you can’t fly the plane. You’ve just hit a little mid-air turbulence. In no time, you’re gonna have clear skies again and a strong tailwind and—and, uh…
Helen: I can’t think of any more flying metaphors. The point is aviation is your life, not filling a waffle cone full of vanilla softie. I’ll probably have chocolate too.
Joe sits ins his plane. Brian arrives and climbs up the wing.
Brian: You know, I think you’ll find it’s much more realistic if you make those vroom-vroom sounds. Vroom.
Joe: What are you doing here?
Brian: T.W.A. turned me down. The review board said somethin’ like, I wasn’t projecting the correct corporate image. So, I packed up my skateboard and here I am.
Brian enters the plane and sits next to Joe. Brian sees the papers.
Brian: What are these?
Joe: Contracts. Roy wants to buy the airline.
Brian: T-there must be some mistake. They’re signed.
Joe: Yeah, they’re sort of the point of contracts. If you don’t sign ‘em, they’re no good. Lawyers are sort of ootsey about that.
Brian: Joe, you cannot sell Sandpiper. I mean, I need a job. You gotta take care of me, I’m a screw up.
Joe: Listen, Brian—
Brian: No, you listen, Joe. Whether you like it or not, flying is in your blood. You were born to it the way some people are born to be poets or statesmen or drill press operators or those people who put those little tags inside underwear that say “inspected by number 42”.
Joe: All right, all right. I get it.
Brian: Or guys that sell frozen yogurt.
Joe: Helen called you, didn’t she?
Brian: What gave you that idea, pops?
Joe: Look, maybe it’s just time I move on to something else.
Brian: Oh, who are you kiddin’? Come on, you’d be miserable doin’ anything else. You are a pilot. And you made me wanna be a pilot. I fell in love with flying just listening to you talk about it. You used to say that flying was like knowing a secret that nobody else knew. It’s a great secret, Joe. Keep it.
Joe: Remember when we were little? We used to run along the beach with our arms out pretending to be planes? I’d imagine I was airlifting supplies to the kids in Biafra.
Brian: And I’d strafe all those women who’d unhooked their bikini tops.
Joe: I built my whole life around flying. If I’m not a pilot anymore, then what am I?
Brian: You’re a guy who’s gonna be a pilot again soon. You just gotta get your blood pressure down. If you do, you’ll fly again. If you don’t your head’ll explode and I’ll own the airline.
Joe takes the contract and tears it apart.
Brian: I figured that would get you.
Joe throws it out the windows and sighs.
Joe: Thanks for coming back, Brian.
Brian: Well, I had no choice. They washed me out, remember.
Joe: T.W.A. called. I know you got in.
Brian: Damn. Why did they call you?
Joe: Because you put my number down as the person to contact, in case of an emergency. And they wanted to know why you disappeared.
Brian: Well, it was a lot of things. They’ve got this obsession with long pants. My hair was exactly the length I like it—finally—
Joe puts his arm around Brian.
Joe: Don’t try to get out of it. You did a nice thing.
Brian nudges Joe with his elbow.
Joe: Taken back. You hungry?
Joe: How do you feel about frozen yogurt?
Brian: I hate it.
Joe: Yeah, me, too. Let’s get a pizza.
Joe and Brian get off their chairs.
Joe: Ow! Ow. Hey, hey, what do you know? My wings. Must have gotten stuck in the seat. They’ve always brought me good luck.
Brian: Well, now they’ve brought you Tetanus. Your leg’s bleeding.
Brian and Joe jumps off the airplane.
Brian: Joe, what do you say?
Brian spreads his arms.
Brian: For old times sake, huh?
Brian imitates an engine sputtering.
Joe and Brian run around with their arms spread out.
Brian: French-cut bikini at 4:00!
This is not the actual script. This is my own transcription of the episode. The “High Anxiety” episode was written by Bruce Rasmussen. Wings is owned by CBS Studios Inc., Paramount Pictures and Grub Street Productions.
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