Helen Chapel gets ready to leave.
Helen: Good night, Lowell. Last one out locks up.
Lowell Mather is fixing one of the lunch counter stool.
Lowell: No problem. Night, Helen.
Helen leaves. Lowell looks around to see if anyone is still at the terminal. He sees no one. Lowell picks up the mic on the Sandpiper Air counter. He starts to sing.
Lowell: “That old black magic has me in its spell. That old black magic that you weave so well.”
Lowell starts snapping his fingers.
Lowell: “The icy fingers up and down my spine. The same, the same, the same, the same old witchcraft—“
Joe steps out of the Sandpiper Air office.
Lowell: “When your eyes meet mi—“
Lowell sees Joe watching him.
Lowell is startled and embarrassed.
Lowell: Uh, hi, Joe. Thought I was the only one here. Uh, just, uh, checking out the microphone.
Lowell taps the microphone.
Lowell: Ha! Well, it seems to work great.
Lowell returns the mic on the Sandpiper Air counter.
Lowell: Oh, well, good night. See you tomorrow.
Joe: Good night, Lowell.
Lowell steps out the gate. Joe makes sure that he is gone. He takes the mic.
Joe: Final game of the world series! 2 outs. Bottom of the 9th. The Red Sox are down by…
The following night, Brian is flying the plane with Joe.
Brian: This is Cessna Nevada 1-2-1 Papa-Papa. Request permission to change altitude to 5,000 feet. Over.
Man on Radio: Roger, Sandpiper. Affirmative. Out.
Brian: Joe, is there something a little eerie about this flight? I mean, I think it’s this tour group that you booked. Not one of them had said a word since they got on the plane. And something’s wrong here. Something’s terribly, terribly wrong. I mean, it’s almost as if…
Brian turns on the lights inside the plane.
Brian: They’ve turned into mannequins! Whaaaaaaaaaaa!
The seats of the plane is filled with seated mannequins.
Joe: Funny, Brian.
Brian: Why are we flying mannequins? Why can’t we fly humans? It’s what a real airline’s supposed to do, isn’t it?
Joe: Hey, it’s the off-season. You take whatever business comes your way. According to my figures, we’re barely going to squeak through.
Brian: Well, ever since you lost your pilot’s license you’ve been obsessing about this company’s finances. I wish you’d stop worrying about it.
Joe: Somebody’s got to worry.
The plane experiences some turbulence. There’s a thumping sound.
Brian: Ladies and gentlemen, just encountering a little turbulence here. In the unlikely event of a water landing, please use the passenger in front of you as a flotation device. Oops, seem to have had a little mishap back there, Joe.
Joe: Better put that leg back on.
Joe unfastens his seat belt to put the leg back on one of the mannequins.
Brian: How many pioneers of aviation have said those very words? Joe. Joe, come here for a second, will you?
Joe: This guy tries to sue us he won’t have a leg to stand on.
Joe chuckles as he returns to his seat. Brian is silent.
Joe: A leg to stand on.
Joe blows on his fist, and taps it like it is a microphone.
Joe: Hello? Is this thing on?
Brian: Would you shut up? Take a look at that.
Joe looks at the thing that Brian pointed at. Brian talks on the radio.
Brian: Nantucket tower, this is Cessna Nevada 1-2-1 Papa-Papa. Have you got any other aircraft in the vicinity? Over.
Man on Radio: No traffic in the area. Over.
Brian: Nothing at all? Over.
Man on Radio: Negative, Sandpiper. Over.
Brian: Thanks. Out.
Joe: What the hell is that?
Brian: I don’t know, man, it’s like it’s hovering out there.
The thing flies right over the plane.
Joe: Holy—Did—did you see—did you see how fast that thing was going?
Brian: Nothing moves that fast.
Joe: It’s gone. I think we just saw a U.F.O.
Joe and Brian laugh.
Joe: You didn’t happen to get the license plate number on that thing, did you?
Brian: No, but the bumper sticker said, “55,000 miles per hour. A law we can live with.”
At the terminal, Helen walks over to the Sandpiper Air counter.
Helen: Fay, do you have a minute?
Fay: Why sure, Helen, what is it?
Helen: Well, I was just going over my books and I’m sure it was just an oversight, but I noticed that you haven’t paid your lunch bill this month.
Fay: I—I’m sure I did.
Helen: Uh, no, it’s just that when someone pays me I mark it down in my ledger right here.
Fay: I’m sure you do, but I distinctly remember putting the money in an envelope and giving it to you. Forty-two dollars and fifty cents.
Helen: Well, you know, memory can play tricks on us sometimes.
Fay: Evidently your books can play some tricks, too.
Helen: Well, if you would like to look at my accounts, I can clearly show you that there—
Fay: Oh, Helen, I wouldn’t dream of doubting your honesty. I’ll just pay the bill, again.
Fay writes a check for Helen.
Helen: Forget it, Fay. I don’t care about the money.
Helen walks away.
Fay: Uh, would it be all right if I give you a check?
Helen: Fay, I’m not going to accept it.
Fay follows Helen to the lunch counter.
Fay: I have two forms of identification.
Helen grabs the check from Fay, and tears it into pieces.
Fay: My bank has a service charge of five cents for each check.
Helen: Please excuse me Fay. Here you go.
Helen takes out five cents and slides it over to Fay.
Fay: I couldn’t take this Helen. I know how much a nickel means to you.
Fay slides the nickel back to Helen, and walks away.
Brian arrives, and runs over to Roy.
Brian: Roy, Roy. Did you pilots report seeing anything strange tonight? I mean, besides your tie?
Roy: What are you getting at, Hackett?
Brian: Joe and I saw a U.F.O.
Brian: A U.F.O.
Helen goes over to Brian.
Helen: Oh, I love that stuff. You know, The Close Encounters of the Third Kind. That’s one of my favorite movies. You know how that big mother ship passed overhead? And, hey!
Helen claps her hand.
Helen: Who knew Truffaut could act, huh?
Helen: Had this cute little French accent—
Brian: Could I just jump in here just for one second.
Fay: What did it look like?
Brian: Ah, well, there was a blue light—
Fay: No, I mean the mother ship. I never saw the movie. What did it look like?
Helen: It was this huge thing. Had lights all around it.
Brian: Hey, hey, hey, I—I saw the real thing myself, ok? There was a blue light, shot from one part of the sky to the other in like 4 seconds, ok. Hovered there, shot straight up, disappeared.
Helen: Wow, that’s really weird.
Roy: No, not really, I always wondered when the people from his planet were gonna come back for him.
Brian: I’m not kidding around, Roy. I really did see this thing.
Lowell: Well, you’re not alone Brian. My mother-in-law claims she was abducted by aliens. Claims they took her aboard their spaceship, examined her genitalia and then sent her back. I contend her neighbor Vern took her aboard his Winnebago, but she’s sticking to her story.
Roy: Thank you, Carl Sagan for that close encounter of the stupid kind. Now, would you get out of here and finish working on that tower spotlight, huh?
Fay: Brian, maybe that spotlight is what you saw.
Lowell: Yeah, Fay’s probably right except you can see it a lot better once I take it out of the truck and finish assembling it.
Roy: Hackett, Hackett. It could have been anything. It could have been heat lightning, the Northern lights, a meteor.
Lowell: A big fluorescent eagle.
Fay: There you go.
Helen: It could have been a weather balloon.
Brian: M-moving at the speed of light?
Lowell: Well, you know, when the air’s leaking out, they just—
Lowell imitates a balloon losing air, and spit all over the place.
Roy: Do you have to do that, Lowell?
Roy wipes the spit from his jacket.
Lowell: Well, you do if you want to make the—
Lowell imitates a balloon losing air again.
Brian: Look, look, if you don’t believe me, then why don’t you just ask Joe, because he saw it also. Right?
Joe enters the terminal. Brian runs over to Joe.
Joe: Saw what?
Brian: The U.F.O. they don’t believe that we saw it.
Joe: I don’t know what you’re talking about, Brian. Stop fooling around. It’s been a long night.
Joe enters his office. Fay, Roy, Lowell, and Helen are silent. Brian faces them.
Brian: I know what I saw.
Roy: Gee, Hackett, I don’t know what to say. Oh, yes I do.
Roy puts two pencils on his head like that of an antenna.
Roy: Na-nu, na-nu, na-nu!
Brian enters Joe’s office.
Brian: Hey, uh, do me a favor, will you, Joe? Can you see if there’s a large dagger sticking out of my back? Oh, that’s right. Sorry. You don’t see anything.
Joe: Brian, you saw it. I saw it. The mannequins in the plane saw it, but if word gets out about this, we’re gonna be known as crackpot airlines.
Brian: Well, excuse me, but it’s difficult for me to be quiet about the most exciting experience I’ve ever had in an airplane. Wait—wait a second. Second most exciting—third—do helicopters count?
Joe: Look, look, business is bad enough. We can’t afford any bad press.
Brian: All right, all right. I see your point. I won’t mention a word of this to anybody else.
Brian pulls out one of the drawers of the filing cabinet.
Brian: Where are those pilot irregularity forms?
Joe: NO. You—you are not filing a report on this to the F.A.A. Therre’s no way I want this on permanent record.
Brian: Joe, Joe, you know as well as anybody else that if a pilot sees something out of the ordinary, he’s required to report it.
Joe: Normally, I would agree—
Brian: Well, what are we supposed to do? Are we supposed to forget about it? Maybe the F.A.A. can explain this, or maybe somebody’s already made out a report. Don’t you want to know what we saw?
Joe: Yes, of course I do, but—you don’t understand the ramifications of this, Brian.
Joe: Do you remember Fred Atkins?
Brian: Yeah, he flew charter out of New Bedford.
Joe: Right, well, he reported seeing a U.F.O. The next thing he knew, he was blacklisted. They broke him. Last I heard, he was sitting on the corner of 3rd and Main, selling used chewing gum.
Brian: That was Fred Atkins?
Joe: You betcha.
Brian: That gum was used?
Brian crumples the paper.
The next day, Roy, Fay, and Lowell are eating by the lunch counter. Helen brings Fay a glass of water.
Helen: Here’s your water, Fay. Can I get you anything else?
Fay: no, thank you, I brought my lunch. Uh, what do I owe you for the water?
Helen: Nothing. That napkin will be $42.50.
Fay: I paid you.
Helen: Oh, I beg to differ.
Fay: You can beg all you want, I’m not paying you again.
Lowell: Ladies. Ladies. Now this has gone on for over a week. I’m seeing a beautiful friendship torn asunder, rent in twain, bifurcated.
Roy: Lowell, have you been listening to those stupid vocabulary tapes again?
Lowell: Indubitably. Well, I know how to solve this altercation.
Helen: Please enlighten us.
Helen: Tell us how.
Lowell: Well, you can do what the wife and I do. Arm-wrestle. Well, but you two can leave your clothes on, or not.
Helen: Lowell, I’m not gonna to arm-wrestle Fay.
Fay clucks like a chicken.
Helen: Are you calling me a chicken?
Fay: If the beak fits.
Helen: Ok, you got it. Let’s do it.
Roy and Lowell get off their chair as Helen and Fay prepare to arm-wrestle.
Roy: Great. I’ll referee. I love a good catfight. All right ladies, we’re playing by the marquis of Queensbury rules here. Elbows on the table at all times. Spitting, biting and scratching, are of course, real crowd pleasers. All right, ladies, ready, set, go.
Helen pushes Fay’s arm close to the table.
Helen: Give it up, Fay.
Fay pushes back.
Fay: In your dreams.
Lowell emerges from under the lunch counter.
Lowell: Helen, I saw a cockroach scurry under your counter, and I followed him. You know, like I usually do, and then I—
Helen: Lowell, can this wait?
Lowell: Well, I thought it was pertinent. Anyway, I found this envelope. It’s got $42.50 in it.
Lowell hands Helen the envelope.
Fay: That’s the money I gave you.
Fay pushes Helen’s hand near the table. Helen pushes back.
Helen: It must have fallen off the counter, Fay.
Fay pushes Helen’s arm.
Helen: I guess there’s not reason to keep doing this.
Fay: So, why don’t we just quit.
Helen: Fine. Let go.
Fay: No, you let go.
Helen: No, you let go first.
Fay: No, I—I’m not falling for that old trick.
Helen and Fay continue their arm wrestling.
Brian is inside the Sandpiper Air office talking to a man in suit.
Brian: It flew straight up, and it disappeared. So, what do you think, Inspector Hanson?
Hanson: Well, that’s a very interesting story, Mr. Hackett, but I’m afraid the F.A.A. can’t take your report at face value. There are a few things we’ve found that cast some doubt on your, uh, credibility.
Brian: My credibility, like what?
Hanson: Well, it says here you once reported seeing Amelia Earheart over the Bermuda triangle.
Brian: Yeah, yes, that was just—I was playing a little joke on a buddy of mine, that’s all.
Hanson: Oh. A joke.
Inspector Hanson feigns a laugh.
Hanson: Like this U.F.O. sighting?
Brian: No, no, this is different.
Hanson: Well, how would I know that?
Brian: Well, uh, my brother Joe saw it, for one.
Hanson: Oh, really? Maybe I should talk to him.
Brian: No, no, you can’t. It, well, it wouldn’t do you any good anyway. Because he’s a…mute.
Hanson: He’s a mute.
Joe enters the Sandpiper Air office.
Brian: Joe,Joe, uh, what are you doing here? I thought it was your day off.
Joe: I have some paperwork.
Brian: He speaks. It’s a miracle.
Joe: Hi—hi, I’m Joe Hackett.
Hanson: So you’re the other one who was present at this alleged sighting. Inspector Hanson, F.A.A.
Joe: You went and filed that report, didn’t you?
Hanson: Oh, he sure did. Frankly, off the record, I’m surprised. If you’re looking for some attention for your little airline here, this is the wrong kind.
Joe: Listen, uh, is there any way that we can make this report disappear?
Hanson: I’m afraid it’s a little late for that. Have a nice day.
Joe: What the hell did you think you were doing?
Brian: I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to find out what we saw.
Joe: You better hope nothing comes of this, Brian. You better hope it gets buried under tons of bureaucratic paperwork, and no one else hears a thing about it, you know why?
Brian: Please tell me why, Joe. I want you to go on and on and on about this.
Joe: Because if I lose my business, I’m holding you personally responsible.
Brian: Oh, come on!
Joe: Look, all I want from you is a promise that this goes no further. Not a word.
Brian: Ok, ok, fine. You have my word. From now on my story is: the only thing I saw that night is the sky, the stars, the moon, and you, Joe Hackett.
Brian points at Joe. Joe slaps Brian at the back of his head.
Helen and Fay are still arm-wrestling. Helen is almost winning.
Roy on P.A.: Announcing the arrival of Aeromass Flight 14 from Hartfod. We at Aeromass would like to congratulate our colleagues at Sandpiper Air for the inauguration of their new nonstop service to the Planet Zoldar.
Joe and Brian give Roy piecing looks. Four strangers arrive at the airport. They go over to Fay and Helen who are still arm-wrestling.
Man #1: Is there a Brian Hackett here?
Fay and Helen point the strangers to Brian.
Man #1: Brian Hackett?
Brian: Yeah, that’s me.
Man #1: Well, my colleagues and I learned about your U.F.O. sighting.
Brian: Uh—uh, now, I don’t know anything about a U.F.O.
Man #2: We just want you to know that you’re not alone. We’ve seen it, too.
Joe and Brian entertain the four people at th Sandpiper Air office.
Joe: So, exactly who are you?
Man #2: We’re just people from different parts of the country, and different walks of life who happen to share the common experience of having seen a U.F.O., and because of skepticism we’ve encountered from the government, among others, we decided to from our own independent investigative unit.
Brian: Well, I’m—I’m afraid all you people have come an awful long way for nothing, because I didn’t see anything.
Man #1: Mr. Hackett, we have an informant at the F.A.A. We know you reported a sighting.
Brian: Who are you, the K.G.B.? I—I tell you what, why don’t we just bypass the rubber hoses, and go straight on to Ludmila and the compromising videotape, ok?
Man #1: We all understand what you’re going through, Mr. Hackett.
Brian: Uh, please, call me X.R.Q. 24.
Woman: We’re all just ordinary people. I’m a bookkeeper. Al teaches physics in High School. Tom’s a dentist. John’s a contractor.
Brian: And I’m a pilot. Thank you all for coming to career day.
Man #2: You know, none of us wanted to see a U.F.O. We didn’t ask for this to happen. It was thrust upon us.
Brian: Well look, all right, look, I—I already told the F.A.A. my story. I don’t feel like sounding like a jackass twice in one day.
Man #3: Look, Mr. Hackett, I—I understand how you feel. I’m a very successful contractor, but who wants their kitchen remodeled by some whacko who saw a U.F.O. over his grandson’s tree house.
Man #1: Who’d they send to talk to you?
Brian: Uh, an Inspector Hanson.
Man #1: Oh, Hanson. Now, they never send Hanson out unless they want to stop a report dead in its tracks. So, your sighting must have been significant.
Brian: Well, I—you know…I didn’t see anything.
Man #2: Ok, ok, I’ll tell you what you saw. It was a blue light. It flew from one side of the sky to the other in a matter of seconds. At that point it either made a loop or it flew straight up and disappeared.
Joe: It flew straight up.
Man #2: So you saw it too.
Brian: Oh, oh, oh, so apparently rats that desert a sinking ship can get back on board. Ok, fine.
Joe: So, exactly what do you want from us?
Man #3: We want you to take us up in your plane.
Woman: In New Mexico they had sightings for six straight nights. If the same holds true here, his is a perfect window of opportunity.
Brian: Excuse me, excuse me. So, come on, Joe, what do you say? Come on, what else are you going to do besides? You’re going to stay home and watch T.V.?
Joe: Well, I still have five hours of The Civil War to get through.
Brian: Let me save you some time. The North wins. Come on, Joe. Please, what do you say? Come on.
Joe: All right, I’m with you.
Brian: Great, let’s go. Hey, Joe, uh, just out of curiosity, what made you change your mind?
Joe: Well, before these people came along, the only person that could corroborate my story was you. No offense, Brian, but give me a break.
Brian and Joe fly the four on their airplane.
Man #1: I hope you don’t mind our inviting a reporter from the local paper along.
Joe: No, I guess it’s okay. Anything we can do, to further the case of science.
Brian: Kind of glad you came along, aren’t you?
Joe: Yeah, I really am. I haven’t said much about it these last few days, but it has been on my mind constantly.
Reporter: Mr. Hackett.
The reporter goes over to Joe.
Reporter: What do you hope to accomplish tonight?
Joe: Well, we don’t know that we’ll accomplish anything. Ideally, we hope to see another U.F.O., but if not, at the very least we’d like to encourage other people who have seen what we’ve seen to step forward, and let their voiced be heard.
Brian: Yeah, yeah, that and to meet women.
Brian: Ah, there’s the lighthouse. We’re getting close to the spot where we saw it.
Man #3: Is there anything on the monitor?
Man #2: Not yet.
Joe: That’s a pretty fancy-looking equipment you got there. What does it do?
Man #1: We discovered in previous sightings that there was a drop in atmospheric ionization within a 3-kilometer radius, so we brought along an ionization counter.
Man #2: Also a high-speed infrared camera, gravitational flux monitor and an electronic triangulator.
Brian: Hmm, you guys get the home-shopping channel on cable, don’t you?
Man #2: Uh, I’m getting a reading.
The beeping on the device intensifies.
Man #2: 4.45 by 32 on the grid. Ionization 50 M.K.G. and falling. Magnitude 3, fluctuating at 550.
Brian: Oh, I don’t see anything yet.
Woman: Prepare for a close encounter.
Brian: This is getting exciting. I hope they know we come in peace.
The four U.F.O. fanatics wear their foil caps, blinking sunglasses and a plastic cup in their mouths. Brian turns his back and sees them.
Brian: Joe, don’t…don’t turn around.
Brian: Just trust me on this one. Just don’t.
Joe prepares to turn his head.
Brian: No, no, Joe, don’t! Don’t!
One of the men and the woman put foil caps on Joe and Brian. Joe turns around.
Joe: What are you doing?
The reporter takes a picture of Joe. Joe tries to block his face.
Joe: Hey, no, no.
The next night, Brian is reading the paper with Joe’s picture on it. The headline reads “Take Me To Your Leader”. In the picture, Joe is wearing a foil cap, and his arms form a cross in a failed attempt at hiding his face.
Brian: “Joe Hackett, owner of Sandpiper Airlines, and leader of U.F.O. expedition demonstrates alien salute.”
Joe is sitting at the lunch counter beside Brian. He sighs.
Joe: This is so humiliating.
Brian: You know, Joe, you should wear hats more often. You look good in foil.
Roy: Good night, fellas.
Joe: Good night, Roy.
Roy is reading the paper.
Joe: Hey, you know, you haven’t said a thing about this all day. I’m getting kind of nervous. Go ahead, mock us. You have a right.
Roy: Oh, no, no, Hackett, this is uh, this is too easy for a man of my talents. It would be like hooking a dead fish. You’ve taken all the sport out of it. Good night, fellas.
Roy leaves whistling.
Joe: He may be slime, but he’s got standards.
Fay: Good night, boys.
Joe & Brian: Night, Fay.
Helen steps out of the kitchen.
Fay: How’s your arm, Helen?
Helen: Ah, it’s a little sore, but I’ll be fine. Good night, everybody.
Joe: Who won the arm-wrestling match.
Helen: Oh, Fay licked me.
Joe: Ah, she beat you, huh?
Helen: No, she licked me. She literally licked my hand. I was so startled she caught me off guard, pinned me to the table.
Fay: Experience beats youth every time.
Brian: We did see something out there, didn’t we, Joe?
Joe: Yes, we did.
Brian: I mean, we might not know what it was, but it was there, right?
Joe steps out of the gate. Brian follows him.
Joe: What do you think? Do you believe there are actually alien spacecrafts up there making visits to earth?
Brian: I don’t know. It sounds crazy. But I mean, there are plenty of things that you can’t explain. The Easter Island statues and those circles in the English wheat fields, white decaf coffeepots are orange, you know.
Joe looks up the sky.
Joe: You look up the sky, all the stars, the vastness of the universe, and it makes you realize how arrogant we are to think that Earth is the only planet with life. Makes you feel kinda insignificant, doesn’t it?
Brian: Not when my shoes are shined.
Joe: Well, I don’t care what anyone says, I think there’s got to be intelligent life forms up there somewhere.
A very bright light shines on Joe and Brian, and there’s a loud whirring sound.
Brian: What the hell is that?
Lowell: Hey, guys, I finally got this stupid light to work. Ah, if you think it’s bright now, watch this.
The whirring sound intensifies. Bulbs burst, and it become dark.
Joe: Meanwhile, the search for intelligent life here on Earth continues.
This is not the actual script. This is my own transcription of the episode. The “Plane Nine from Nantucket” episode was written by Philip LaZebnik. Wings is owned by CBS Studios Inc., Paramount Pictures and Grub Street Productions.
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