Such was friendship among those who had trammeled the angry, if hallowed, halls of air, I suspect. It was once. Even through a GWB, it was. Once.
...That they could tell someone at last—unload or unburden themselves to someone who might provide them with some small grasp regarding highly extraordinary occurrences they'd had obvious difficulty processing by themselves. Dissonance looms.
Hey! I'm about a half million dollars down in lost wages, myself. Speaking with some experience, I report that reasonable persons are significantly wounded in this struggle for a more validated existentiality. I say true.