Hot@Dot: Flying the Damn Plane

Hot@Dot is a blog series where the Red Dot team explores what’s catching our attention—and why it matters. From emerging tools to standout ideas, we connect inspiration with real-world impact. In a crowded comms landscape, these are the sparks that lead to smarter strategies, stronger brands, and better business decisions.

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By Avery Amensen, PR + Content Strategy Director

Picture this: A grown man, head and body completely shaved like a newborn, toddles into a nursery of gigantic proportions. Around him, giant marionettes and actors on stilts play his parents, looming overhead in an unsettling reenactment of early childhood. 

The goal? To get into the mind of Sully Sullenberger (yes, the pilot who famously landed a plane on the Hudson) by “reliving” his life’s most pivotal moments.

Now THIS is committing to the bit. A clown after my own heart. 

Season 2 of Nathan Fielder’s The Rehearsal is filled with moments like this. Beneath its absurd surfaces is one of the most compelling cases of what it means to fully commit to an idea (and what happens when you do).

The show’s premise is to simulate difficult real-world scenarios so people can rehearse them before they happen. But Season 2 goes to a whole new level. Nathan dives deep into aviation safety—he studies crashes, painstakingly reviewing cockpit transcripts and hiring actors to play out these scenes in a flight simulator, and lands on a real, almost-too-simple issue.

Communication breakdowns between pilots and copilots can be linked to practically every plane crash. And no one’s solved it.

Starting the conversation

Nathan shares his theory with former NTSB board member John Goglia, who agrees. In fact, Goglia proposed role-playing exercises to build trust between pilots 15 years prior. But The FAA didn’t implement them. Congress didn’t act. Nothing changed. 

So, Nathan did what no one else dared. He went all in. And in a way that nobody else could. 

Cue the cringeworthy-yet-fascinating social experiments:

• Staging Wings of Voice, a fake singing competition judged by real copilots.
• Building an exact replica of Houston’s IAH terminal.
• Recreating Sully Sullenberger’s most formative moments in unsettling detail.
• And creating improv characters—Captain All Ears and Officer Blunt—as simple tools for pilots to practice speaking up and listening.

All of it, absurd. And all of it gathering real evidence to support his hypothesis.

Insisting to be heard

Nathan made it all the way to a meeting on Capitol Hill just to find another dead end. It was clear no one else with any real influence would give his theory the time of day. 

So what did he do next? He doubled down. 

We then learn that Nathan had spent the last two years training as a pilot, eventually earning a commercial pilot’s license. He procured a real 737, filled it with willing actors, hired a First Officer, put cameras in the cockpit, and flew the damn plane himself—filming the power dynamic between a pilot and copilot for the first time. 

Immediately, the tension Nathan predicted shows up. Nathan asks if the co-pilot is okay. Silence. He asks again. Nervous laughter. Only when Nathan introduces his improv characters does the first officer finally share a real moment of feedback: Nathan missed a step during takeoff, and the co-pilot quietly corrected it without saying a word.

Miscommunication captured. Thesis proven.

Demanding your attention

After the season finale aired, coverage on the “Miracle over the Mojave” exploded. The story wasn’t just entertaining—it was undeniable. Nathan was mentioned in outlets like the New York Times, CNN, Aviation Pros, and much more. Even the Committee On Transportation And Infrastructure tweeted about it. 

From a PR perspective, this is the work. That hard, time consuming process to build a story that demands a spot in the news cycle. 

Nathan didn’t end up on CNN because he wrote a clever tweet. He got there because he built an entire world to prove his point. And, while absolutely absurd, it’s what happens when you stop pitching noise and start doing something worth covering.

It’s easy to post a hot take. It’s harder to build and staff a fake airport terminal. 

Real impact takes time. It takes investment. It takes an over-commitment to the bit. And that’s what makes it stick.

Stop talking about what could make an impact. Go do the thing that will.

Then you’ll have a story worth telling.