“ There is a conflagration that can be directly traced back to Con Air, proving that nothing emerges from the Bruckheimer Productions machine until it can muster an explosion or two, and then the camera zooms from the incandescent fireball to the cool green waters several feet away. ”
Oh my God, Las Vegas is flooded!
I kid: we begin by zooming over what I would assume is the Atlantic Ocean as the sun is setting behind the Miami skyline. A synthesizer plays. The Miami scene is a little less dusky. The sun, as it turns out, is actually rising, which means one of two things: either the sun comes up in the west in Miami -- something which might be plausible, if Dave Barry is to believed -- or there's another large body of water behind Miami and the camera approached from that direction. I don't know. Anyway, it's now quite sunny; the synthesizer throbs as we see a few high-rises, a stretch of straight highway leading into grassy swamplands, and the Everglades themselves. As the camera fixes on an airboat parked on the waters, two things happen -- the synthesizer switches to industrial music, signaling that this is not your father's Miami police drama, and the sun begins rising or setting again. I can't keep track. The scene falls dramatically silent as the camera slides down the boat and begins tightly focusing on the water. As a fisherman casts a fly, breaking the glassy surface, the lull is broken by the sound of a plane passing overhead. Judging by the way the fishermen's flowing manes whip in the wind, the plane is going very fast and very low. A plume of black smoke trails behind the plane as it continues to plummet; the fishermen make appropriately surprised noises as it zooms by them and crashes within eyeshot. There is a conflagration that can be directly traced back to Con Air, proving that nothing emerges from the Bruckheimer Productions machine until it can muster an explosion or two, and then the camera zooms from the incandescent fireball to the cool green waters several feet away. The waters are quickly roiled by a piece of machinery landing in them.
We then awkwardly transition to a tracking shot of grass. Lots and lots of grass. Enough to keep the people at Pottery Barn in sea-grass rug production through 2003. The camera then cuts through the grass and down a straight, narrow canal. Then, it zooms back up to produce the unnerving spectacle of David Caruso zipping sideways across the screen. We pull back to see Caruso -- or, as he's known on this show, Horatio Caine -- standing at the prow of another airboat, looking for all the world like a ship's figurehead by way of Banana Republic. We watch the boat zip around for a while, then see Caine again, who's now crouched to Eric Delko. They zoom over to the crash site and begin expositing. Delko says, "Flight 906, outbound Miami to D.C., dropped off the radar at oh-eight-twenty. Crashed right after takeoff." Caine asks how many were on board. Delko replies, "NTSB confirms two pilots, six passengers." NTSB, for those of you playing along at home, is the National Transit Safety Board. Its role in this episode is roughly equivalent to Vera's on Cheers. Were this episode actually taking place in a world where Florida had not apparently seceded from the United States, here's what would have happened: the plane would have gone down. Someone fluent in federal regulations would have remembered 49 CFR 830 (Notification and Reporting of Aircraft Accidents or Incidents and Overdue Aircraft, and Preservation of Aircraft Wreckage, Mail Cargo, and Records), notified the conveniently located NTSB field office in Miami, Florida, given them the relevant information about the crash, then remembered that Section 10 reads, "Prior to the time the Board or its authorized representative takes custody of aircraft wreckage, mail, or cargo, such wreckage, mail, or cargo may not be disturbed or moved except to the extent necessary:
“ Caine heroically picks up the phone and barks that he needs air rescue. Give Horatio command post, give him mobile recovery, give him biohazard gear, give him an air rescue -- is there anything else he wants? How about a Hot Pocket? A Fresca, maybe? A mint on a silken pillow? No, no, Horatio -- really, just ask. ”
- To remove persons injured or trapped;
- To protect the wreckage from further damage; or
- To protect the public from injury.
Where it is necessary to move aircraft wreckage, mail or cargo, sketches, descriptive notes, and photographs shall be made, if possible, of the original positions and condition of the wreckage and any significant impact marks."
In other words, this is not the aviation equivalent of a knock-over at the local 7-Eleven.
BUT. Suspending the idea that a show about law enforcement would bother to research existing laws governing the investigation of aviation accidents and returning to the episode at hand, we get back to the heart of the matter: eight people went down. Or, as Delko puts it, eight souls. Caine says, "Eight souls unaccounted for, okay." Before the two men can get into the metaphysics of plane crashes, Delko has a frustrating moment with the cell phone, blurting out, "Look, they're advising we wait for fire --" Caine doesn't care what "they" say: "We were four miles away when we took the call. First responders provide immediate aid, no questions asked!" Shouldn't Caine be addressing that comment to the people on the cell phone, especially since Delko relays it only as, "We're taking this." Caine then orders Delko, "Call MDPD" -- God help me, I thought of Mindy Page Davis Page for a moment there; MPDP, MDPD, it's understandable -- "tell then I want to set up a forward command post at levee 67 -- mobile recovery, biohazard gear, the works. And then call in the night shift. We need all hands on deck." What, is Caine's phone ear broken so he can't make the call himself?
Poor Delko's having himself a freak-out on the cell phone when Caine grabs his attention for yet another pressing matter. "Right there," he intones. "We've got a survivor right there!" Delko screams, "Hold on, sir, I'm coming!" then leaps in the water. Well, at least he's dressed for it. And with all that nervous energy, he could probably skim the surface like a dragonfly. Caine watches Delko slog through the river, then heroically picks up the phone and barks that he needs air rescue. Give Horatio command post, give him mobile recovery, give him biohazard gear, give him an air rescue -- is there anything else he wants? How about a Hot Pocket? A Fresca, maybe? A mint on a silken pillow? No, no, Horatio -- really, just ask. Meanwhile, Delko's busy slogging through the Everglades, screaming reassurances as he goes; the minute he hits the guy, he bellows, "He's not breathing." Well. That challenges the definition of "survivor." Caine looks intense. Delko somehow finds a patch of solid ground, deposits this "survivor" -- taking care to jostle his neck as much as possible in the process -- and proceeds to launch into CPR. "Breathe, breathe, breathe," he urges. Horatio just hangs out and watches. Delko, meanwhile, is doing everything short of pounding on the guy's chest and screaming, "Live, damn you! Live!" Caine finally gets Delko's attention and lets us all know the survivorisn't. Delko is understandably winded, but he still manages to gasp out, "I lost him." "It happens," Horatio tells him. Delko contends that the floater could have told him something. Horatio says, "We don't need him to. We've got the whole story right here." He then shifts so he can pose cinematically in front of the airboat and the billowing plume of smoke.
“ 'Is it as bad as it looks?' Judging by the first five minutes of this show, yes. ”
And we go to the credits, the much-anticipated credits. Well, much anticipated in the Sobell household: I had money riding on the background music. All summer, the husband argued that CSI: Miami would provide the perfect opportunity for a Miami Sound Machine revival, while I countered that the people behind the spin-off would be counting on The Who to provide that all-important link to the original series. At some point, we made a wager. So when the opening scream of "Won't Get Fooled Again" echoed and the credits rolled, we had this conversation:
Me: I win! I win! That means you lose! I win!
The husband: Damn straight I got fooled again.
Me: Not me. I win. Yes, that's right. I win.
The husband: Anthony Zuiker is now my blood enemy.
Me: Over this?
The husband: [screaming] BLOOD!
Me: I can't believe --
The husband: You tell Zuiker I'm coming, and Hell's coming with me.
Me: Try to get a little perspe--
The husband: You tell him I'm taking a dollar out of his ass.
Can you imagine if we had gone for the big stakes, like $5?
Anyway, credits. Who. Commercials. Then we're back at the scene and Caine's walking with Calleigh Duquesne, who's telling him that the jet was registered to a Scott Eric Sommer, who made the Fortune 500 via insurance scams. Caine couldn't care less: "Did you get a flight plan yet?" Calleigh replies that it went straight to NTSB. Unlike, say, an accident notification or subsequent report. Calleigh continues, "They've got a go team flying in. They'll be here within the hour." What? They have to fly in from the field office in Miami? Is the highway traffic that bad? Horatio asks where fire and rescue are. Calleigh replies, "They went out to look for survivors. Delko's with them." That last sentence is open to a wide variety of interpretations. Caine watches a bunch of firefighters run by as she tells him this. Calleigh watches too, then turns back to Caine to ask, "Is it as bad as it looks?" Judging by the first five minutes of this show, yes. Caine takes a look at Calleigh and says grimly, "It's actually worse than it looks."