Jacksonville Quotes

When I sing, it sounds like I’m gargling spaghetti. Is it any wonder that women lust after me and mail me their panties? (Mail to: Jarod Kintz/12358 Fibonacci Way/Jacksonville, Fl 32258)


Three platonic fuck buddies and a hyperactive dog. What could possibly go wrong?

Death by too much dick. And this is a death I mean to die over and over and over again.

You deserve every good thing in life. Don't wait for it to come to you. Go out and get it.

You really think I could forget my Seattle Girl? Baby, you’re all I think about.

Because, if she leaves us, she didn’t love us enough to stay, respect us enough to let us make our own decisions, or want us enough to fight through this storm,

Oh baby, just you wait. I’ve got the next ten months to slow burn the fuck out of this.

Life is beautiful and short, and you only get one. Live it on purpose.

A stranger asked where I'm from, and I said I was from Jacksonville. His brow furrowed and he said he didn’t remember me. I thought to myself, “Oh, no! Have I just been caught editing myself out of his memory?" So, I grabbed the Duffel bag full of ducks and ran out of the room.

I bet she’s got more kinks than a garden hose.

When you spend so long living in the cloud of your mistakes, it's difficult to see your way out of the fog.

Hope. That word is dangerous. That word builds you up and tears you down, leaving nothing left but a charred and broken mess.

But this isn’t just sex for me, Rachel,” Jake adds, his face solemn. “Hell, at this point, I’ll settle for just breathing your air. I’ll rub your feet on the couch after a long day. I’ll do your laundry. I’ll hold your purse while you shop for trail mix. That’s how crazy I am about you. I have to be me, and this is who I am. This is how I feel. Move in and be with me. With us. Whatever that looks like to you, we’ll figure it out. Just give me more than this nothing. I can’t bear another second of the nothing.

Just call me Reddi, ‘cause I’m fucking whipped.

Here in Jacksonville there’s a road called Commonwealth Blvd., and today as I was driving on it, I realized how socialist the name sounds.

The day Spenkelink was put to death a popular Jacksonville disc jockey aired a recording of sizzling bacon and dedicated it to the doomed man.

You can’t stop the bad things from happening—to yourself, to your brother, to any of us. I know because I’ve lived the same as you, trying to keep my life small. Really all I did was build myself a cage. And then I trapped myself inside that cage and told myself the bars weren’t real.

I want him on his knees. I want him drowning in my pussy, and I want to scream his name as I come apart.

Sometimes people enter your life and it’s a meeting. But sometimes, it’s a meeting again. Déjà vu. Soul recognition. Whatever it is, we have it.

The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere, they’re in each other all along.

This is for all the thirty-somethings trapped in marriages, friendships, and family dynamics you’ve outgrown. Set yourself free. Watch how you fly. Oh, and give pegging a try.

I’m a girl of simple tastes. I like cheap wine and expensive cheese.

Some girls say doggy style is over-rated, but for me? Lord, I live for it.

I snort. “Yeah, well I had a 6’5” blond Viking saying ‘bend over.’ You tell me what you would’ve done in my position, Tess.

And what would a guy like you do with one kiss from a girl like me?” “Savor it,” I reply. “Cherish it. Save it for a rainy day.

For all the thirsty bitches who love a dirty-talking golden retriever boy. Eat your hearts out.

I was a little bit worried when Phil started talking about Akron, what with the snow and everything, because you know how I hate the cold, but now Jacksonville!

The most the average person probably reads in a day is a STOP sign or two. And based on how people drive in Jacksonville, I don’t think they even read that much.

We all deserve a second chance,” I say. Feeling like this is a moment of truth, I lean in. “But just know that, if Ilmari is a lion, I’m his lioness. Hurt my husband, and I’ll rip out your fucking throat. Agreed?” He smirks, giving me a nod. “Joo.

I watch the stock-car races sometimes but you don't see anything but cars. I know about Fireball Roberts though and I watched an interview with Tiny Lunn. He is a huge dead-serious innocent-faced boy who must have made it big, he had just won the one in Jacksonville when I saw him but he never smiled once.

You are my beating heart, Rakas,” he goes on. “Soon it will split in two. This life you carry will take half of me away from you. I’ve never been a father. I have no example to follow, but I’m not afraid. We lead with love, yes?

Of course, my perfect girl likes to play. I bet she’s got more kinks than a garden hose.

Meanwhile, my soul quietly ascends to a higher plane. I’m gone. Deceased. Dead from too much overwhelming euphoria. My body is sandwiched between three men I love who love me.

Stronger together. Never to be parted. Ilmari Price is my husband. My lover, my friend.

This is torture, but it feels good too. What can I say? I’m a glutton for punishment. Pain is pleasure and all that. Whatever, we’re all allowed to have kinks.

I want to unravel him. I want to make him beg, make him crawl.

Right,” he laughs. “Well…these are the guys, right? What are you calling them—your boyfriends? Your squad? Your pussy posse?” Jake snorts, his mouth open like he’s about to speak. “Don’t,” I snap. “The first of you to refer to our relationship as the ‘pussy posse’ will be the first voted off the island. Agreed?

I see you, mun leijona. They see you too,” he adds, gesturing at Caleb and Jake. “You would brave any danger for those you love. Climb any mountain, leap from any clifftop. A love like yours is wild and dangerous. You need men who will not seek to harness you or break your spirit. You need men who will protect you. Who will provide a safe space for you to love as freely as your heart will allow. We are those men.

Place yourself in our care, and we will never stop fighting for you," Ilmari says. "We will never stray. never waver. We will seek no exit. Love us and watch how we love you in return. One family. One unit. Unbreakable.

Oh, look, there are jobs available in Jacksonville! Today there are two jobs for me and 1.2 million other people in this city to choose from. I can either go into the advertising industry by being a sign spinner, which sounds perfect for me because I really enjoy standing in the heat and getting honked at by drivers, or I can go into public relations by being a part time host/hostess at the Applebees on Old. St. Augustine Rd. Both of these jobs sound great, but since the competition for them is so stiff, I’m really regretting not having taken on another $50,000 dollars of debt and getting a master’s degree. I’m not feeling confident that I’m qualified for either of them.

Mars, I have zero interest in fucking you or getting fucked by you. Are you kidding? The idea of your monster cock coming anywhere near me is literally terrifying. Honestly, I don’t know how Rachel does it. I don’t have the courage to bottom for you, and I totally lack the death wish to try and top you.” He gestures between us with a frantic hand wave. “So, are we good? We done here? You need this super weird conversation to go on any longer?

Wear my jersey, you better be ready to wear my ring and my name, because that’s where this is going for me. Don’t fucking tease me again unless you’re all the way there too.

Seeing you in another man’s jersey? Well, it’s a rare kind of torture. One look at you, and Jake is gonna play his best game of the season.

She didn’t seem to be protesting,” I add darkly. “Oh, she will protest,” he huffs. “When I rip them out of those fucking jerseys and spank their asses raw. Come on.

Jake has serious girth and length, but it’s like comparing a big, delicious bratwurst with a two-pound salami. No way will this fit. My insides already feel rearranged.

My goalie is hurt. Mars is hurt. Rule number fucking one in hockey? Never touch the goalie.

Please take this as the only warning I will give: Fuck our girl against one of my nets again, and I’ll cut off your pretty little cock. Understood?

Such a good fucking girl,” I growl in her ear. “Ride my hand like you own it. As soon as you shatter, I’m taking you to that bed and filling you up with my dick.

Look out the window, baby girl. Keep your eyes open. Seattle is our place. Here in this room, in this city, nothing can keep us apart.

Okay, Fuck her plans. I want to stay here. If I’m only getting this one night and this one date, I want to sit on the couch with her on my lap in that dress.

Well…these are the guys, right? What are you calling them—your boyfriends? Your squad? Your pussy posse?

You need to stay over there because, if you don’t, I’ll fuck you right here in this elevator and there’s no way in hell that’s happening. I’m taking my time with you.

You like that, baby girl? My hand on your throat, my fingers in your cunt…I’m gonna claim you, make you mine.

I cannot let my first blowjob from Jake Compton be over in sixty seconds. I have to slow this down. I have to last.

What do you think ‘mennään naimisiin’ means?” I blink back at him. “I don’t know. I don’t speak Finnish!” “It means ‘marry me,’” he huffs. “I say it all the goddamn time.

Just slather me with butter and jam because I am so fucking toast.

am everything I need. I am enough just as I am. I am smart and driven. I’m kind. I’m passionate and funny and sexy as hell.

Issues need to be addressed. So do boxes of bricks that need to be mailed. Make the shipping label out to Kat Nelb, 2332 Blanket Anagram Way, Jacksonville, Fl 3223.


I’ve lived in Jacksonville for—not sure, I get Jacksonville and Paris mixed up. I’ve never been to Paris.

In zijn eentje doodt Smithfield (Amerika's grootste producent van varkensvlees) jaarlijks meer varkens dan het gezamelijke inwonertal van New York City, Los Angeles, Chicago, Houston, Phoenix, Philadelphia, San Antonio, San Diego, Dallas, San Jose, Detroit, Jacksonville, Indianapolis, San Francisco, Columbus, Austin, Forth Worth en Memphis - ongeveer 31 miljoen dieren.

I love you, Caleb Sanford, and I am not afraid of your darkness. You’d have to do a lot more than break a knee and become an alcoholic to dance all night with my devils. I dare you to let me in,

Yeah, I do. And right now, all signs point to me taking you down to my room and fucking your brains out.” Dead. RIP Jake Compton, the best grinder the NHL ever had. He died doing what he loved most.

mun leijona.” More tears fall as I wrap a hand around his wrist, leaning into his touch. “What does that mean?” “It means ‘my lioness,’” he replies. “For that is what you are to me, and have always been: a fearless, dark-haired lioness. Look at yourself through my eyes, Rakas. Through Jake’s eyes. Through Caleb’s eyes.

What a good fucking girl,” he croons. I shiver. I typically like to be the one giving the praise, but coming from this sweetheart, it feels dirty and I love it. I love being his good girl. I love earning his praise. I want more.

I loved you from the moment I saw you. You stole my breath away, and I’ve been living on borrowed time ever since. Be my life support. Keep my heart beating. Marry the fuck outta me.” I grin, my own hands cupping his cheeks. “I love you so much, Jake. You walked into that bar, and I never stood a chance. I am so irrevocably yours. Be mine forever.

Fuck it. I’m poking this bear. I lean in closer, lowering my voice. “Imagine your cock buried to the hilt inside my cunt, Mars. Then Caleb slides in with his pierced dick, edging you to the point of euphoria. That’s when my pussy will strangle you both, and we all come together in a shaking, sweating pile of arms and legs and dripping cum. That’s DVP.

You like that, baby girl? My hand on your throat, my fingers in your cunt…I’m gonna claim you, make you mine.” She whimpers, her body melting against me. I give her clit a little friction with my palm and her tight pussy clenches around my fingers

I love you, Hurricane. So fucking much. You made me a father, a husband. You’re the reason I have any of this,” he adds, gesturing around the room. “You make Mars feel whole, but you make me feel seen. You see me, baby. And I pray to god you never look away.

An interesting example is found in an article by Dr. Jennifer Roback titled “The Political Economy of Segregation: The Case of Segregated Streetcars,” in the Journal of Economic History (1986). During the late 1800s, private streetcar companies in Augusta, Houston, Jacksonville, Mobile, Montgomery, and Memphis were not segregated, but by the early 1900s, they were. Why? City ordinances forced them to segregate black and white passengers. Numerous Jim Crow laws ruled the day throughout the South mandating segregation in public accommodations.

Caleb laughs too, dropping his hand away from me. “Don’t worry, Pop. It’s just a little team-building exercise.” He gives me a wink, his hand dropping back down between us to take mine. We’re the only two who know the truth: the Rays aren’t the team he’s talking about. Not at all.

We may have built this foundation on shifting sands, but together we’re holding stronger than ever. I have three bonds, unbreakable. They have their own bonds too—bonds of friendship, teamwork, and love. No matter what the future holds, I know who I am now, and I know where I belong.

Nothing truly beautiful without its element of strangeness, nothing whole without its own incongruity, these (Jacksonville-area pioneer house) ruins sand up from the earth in sacred conjunction. These ruins conjoin the earth and the manmade, moving from one to the other and back again. The Browards built their house out of shell and limestone, and limestone forms naturally from the shells and skeletons of miniscule sea creatures over great periods of time. The Browards shaped the earth upright toward the sky. THey shaped it with doorframes and windows and chimneys. THey shaped the earth up around them as a shelter. But shaped earth was always the earth. Now the walls fall back down and join once again the ground, taken over by roots of ferns and weeds and small trees. The house was always the ground, only contained in an upward suspension. The house was always the earth, but brought up into architecture, and now the house that was always the earth crumbles back into the earth and nourishes new green things -- dog fennel and morning glories and palmettoes and cabbage palms and cedars. A true symbol of sacredness of the earth is earth's reclaiming of human ingenuity.

I smile up at his beautiful face, feeling so at ease in his arms. So safe and content. For so long I’ve felt like a small boat set adrift on a perilous sea. Ilmari Kinnunen came skating into my life as this closed-off, moody bear of a goalie. I smile, knowing with such clarity how he fits with us. He’s my safe harbor.

In South Texas I saw three interesting things. The first was a tiny girl, maybe ten years old, driving in a 1965 Cadillac. She wasn't going very fast, because I passed her, but still she was cruising right along, with her head tilted back and her mouth open and her little hands gripping the wheel. Then I saw an old man walking up the median strip pulling a wooden cross behind him. It was mounted on something like a golf cart with two spoked wheels. I slowed down to read the hand-lettered sign on his chest. JACKSONVILLE FLA OR BUST I had never been to Jacksonville but I knew it was the home of the Gator Bowl and I had heard it was a boom town, taking in an entire county or some such thing. It seemed an odd destination for a religious pilgrim. Penance maybe for some terrible sin, or some bargain he had worked out with God, or maybe just a crazed hiker. I waved and called out to him, wishing him luck, but he was intent on his marching and had no time for idle greetings. His step was brisk and I was convinced he wouldn't bust. The third interesting thing was a convoy of stake-bed trucks all piled high with loose watermelons and cantaloupes. I was amazed. I couldn't believe that the bottom ones weren't crushed under all that weight, exploding and spraying hazardous melon juice onto the highway. One of nature's tricks with curved surfaces. Topology! I had never made it that far in mathematics and engineering studies, and I knew now that I never would, just as I knew that I would never be a navy pilot or a Treasury agent. I made a B in Statics but I was failing in Dynamics when I withdrew from the field. The course I liked best was one called Strength of Materials. Everybody else hated it because of all the tables we had to memorize but I loved it, the sheared beam. I had once tried to explain to Dupree how things fell apart from being pulled and compressed and twisted and bent and sheared but he wouldn't listen. Whenever that kind of thing came up, he would always say - boast, the way those people do - that he had no head for figures and couldn't do things with his hands, slyly suggesting the presence of finer qualities.

This isn’t puck bunny energy.

Seriously? Is that why you’ve been such a dick this week? You’re over there thinking this is a love triangle and you just, what? Visit sometimes? Occasionally we all form a square?

Like the weirdo he is, Mars doesn’t sit next to her. No, he sits in the oversized chair, his bottle of normal person water untouched in his hand.

We can’t touch Rachel, and we can’t come? Cool,” Jake deadpans. He turns to Caleb. “Wanna just play checkers or something?

And starting in the goal for the Rays is number 31, Ilmariiiii Priiiiice!

We sexed him to death,” Cay teases, spearing a piece of fruit with his fork.

He planned the whole thing. Sunrise hot air balloon, river cruise, hiking, a spa day.

Has the lure of unlimited dog snuggles really just tipped the scales in the boys’ favor? “Fine,” I hear myself say.

You are a goddess, and you deserve to be worshipped and adored.

We’ll try to be more sympathetic to your hot nemesis problem. Is she a nightmare to work with?” An image popped into John’s head, of him kissing Jessica against the hotel room wall in Jacksonville. He could still feel the softness of her skin and hear her breathy moan as he slid his hand underneath her dress. Hardly the stuff of nightmares. “It’s been… interesting.

I can’t believe she’s wearing his jersey! I mean, I know they trauma-bonded over his injury. And now the Finnish Olympic scouts are here. But I was here first. She should be in my jersey!

Jerry Vines finished preaching through the Bible at First Baptist Jacksonville, Florida. He completed his series through every book of the Bible by preaching through the book of Deuteronomy, farewell messages from Moses to the people of God. For his closing message at First Baptist, Jacksonville, he walked toward the back of the worship center in Jacksonville still preaching.

You’re not ready to tell Poppy you love her, and that’s fine,” he calls after me. “You’re not ready to tell me either, and that’s also fine. God knows you’re not ready for a big happily ever after with commitment, and babies, and that chocolate lava cake in Aruba! But I’m gonna get you ready because I’m an insufferable fucking asshole who’s too Leo to function, and I love you, Lukas Novikov!

She also managed to win a citywide spelling bee, beating out students at all the other Negro schools in Jacksonville. “I received an atlas of the world and a Bible as prizes,” she recalled, “besides so much lemonade and cake that I told President Collier that I could feel it coming through my skin. He had such a big laugh that I made up my mind to hurry up and get grown and marry him.” Decades

I smile, knowing with such clarity how he fits with us. He’s my safe harbor. Jake is my joy. Caleb is my comfort. Ilmari is my rest. I want them all. Need them all. Please, god, let him want this too.

voracious reader, and it dawned on her that a corporate job in Tampa or Jacksonville was not, in fact, the be-all and end-all. Something lay beyond that point. Florence had haunted the library, desperate for glimpses of lives unlike her own. She had a penchant for stories about glamorous, doomed women like Anna Karenina and Isabel Archer. Soon, however, her fascination shifted from the women in the stories to the women who wrote them. She devoured the diaries of Sylvia Plath and Virginia Woolf, who were far more glamorous and doomed than any of their characters. But without a doubt, Florence’s Bible was Slouching Towards Bethlehem. Admittedly, she spent more time scrolling through photos of Joan Didion in her sunglasses and Corvette Stingray than actually reading her, but the lesson stuck. All she had to do was become a writer, and her alienation would magically transform into evidence of brilliance rather than a source of shame. When she looked into the future, she saw herself at a beautiful desk next to a window, typing her next great book. She could never quite see the words on the screen, but she knew they were brilliant and would prove once and for all that she was special. Everyone would know the name Florence Darrow. And who’d trade that for a condo?

She sighs. “So where does that leave Caleb?” “He’s mine.” The words come out on instinct, and I find there’s nothing left to be said. It’s the truth. Caleb Sanford is mine. I want him to be mine in all ways. But I’m afraid.

If the creek predates the city deep in time, then is it right to identify the creek solely with the city? The city has forgotten the creek, as it's forgotten those who walk its side, but the creek didn't need to be known all that long time before the city ever was. Maybe now Hogan's Creek is too steeped in history to claim an independence grounded in prehistory, because the city has too deeply poisoned it for far too long. Then again, there was all that time the creek flowed and had no name. Without a name you belong solely to yourself.

Are you with him?” Morrow blurts out. My gaze tracks to him as Novy groans. “Dude, come on,” he says. “You’re not supposed to just ask a guy if he’s gay like that. That’s like, breaking the rules. Right?” Now they’re both looking at me. My stomach drops. Oh shit. “What are you assholes talking about?

Meanwhile, my soul quietly ascends to a higher plane. I’m gone. Deceased. Dead from too much overwhelming euphoria. My body is sandwiched between three men I love who love me. We all found our path to each other in the most surprising of ways. They’re working together to bring all of us pleasure. A unit. A team.

What do you want, Rachel?” he asks. “I want the world,” I reply. “I want to sail around Phuket Island, topless on a yacht. I want to fuck in the gardens at Versailles and get chased out by French police. I want to eat pizza by the hour and drink wine straight from the bottle, stumbling around the streets of Rome at two in the morning. I want to dance in a fountain, Jake. I want to be a doctor and travel the country watching men at the top of their game play hazardous sports. I want to feel their sweat and smell their blood on the ice. I want to live. And I never want to turn an opportunity down out of fear that I’m not conforming to that dream of normal. Because I’m not normal, Jake. We’re not normal. We’re extraordinary. Be extraordinary with me.

I don’t need your money and never have,” Ilmari counters, seeming almost bored with the whole conversation. “I donated it all to a local charity. Your generous gift is now preserving sea turtle habitats.” I fight my smile, hiding it behind my wine glass. Mars and his sea turtles. “Good,” Halla murmurs. “The money was yours to do with as you wished. I’m glad you made use of it for such a noble cause.

Well, I’m sorry I didn’t have flowers and a box of chocolates, Mars,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I thought on beach day it was all settled with your big, fancy speech about building foundations on shifting sands,” he adds. “That’s why we need the pyramid. A triangle on sand falls right over. A pyramid doesn’t. Ask Egypt. You pushed us to make a pyramid, and now you’re playing dumb, and I’m fucking sick of it.

In the Mountains, they cooked, too. Joe Godwin made liquor in Muscadine. Moe Shealey made it in Mineral Springs. Junior McMahan had a still in ragland. Fred and Alton Dryden made liquor in Tallapoosa, and Eulis Parker made it on Terrapin Creek. Wayne Glass knew their faces because he drove it, and made more money hauling liquor than he ever made at the cotton mill. He loaded the gallon cans into his car in the deep woods and dodged sheriffs and federal men to get it to men like Robert Kilgore, the bootlegger who sold whiskey from a house in Weaver, about ten minutes south of Jacksonville. "I could haul a hundred and fifty gallons in a Flathead Ford, at thirty-five dollars a load," he said. Wayne lost the end of one finger in the mill, but he was bulletproof when he was running liquor, and only did time once, for conspiracy. "They couldn't catch me haulin' liquor," he said, "so they got me for thinkin' about it.

We were working on the idea about dogs’ Internet searches, and first we debated whether the sketch should feature real dogs or Henrietta and Viv in dog costumes (because cast members were always, unfailingly, trying to get more air time, we quickly went with the latter). Then we discussed where it should take place (the computer cluster in a public library, but, even though all this mattered for was the establishing shot, we got stalled on whether that library should be New York’s famous Main Branch building on Fifth Avenue, with the lion statues in front, a generic suburban library in Kansas City, or a generic suburban library in Jacksonville, Florida, which was where Viv was from). Then we really got stalled on the breeds of dogs. Out of loyalty to my stepfather and Sugar, I wanted at least one to be a beagle. Viv said that it would work best if one was really big and one was really little, and Henrietta said she was fine with any big dog except a German Shepherd because she’d been bitten by her neighbor’s German Shepherd in third grade. After forty minutes we’d decided on a St. Bernard and a Chihuahua—I eventually conceded that Chihuahuas were funnier than beagles. We decided to go with the Florida location for the establishing shot because the lions in front of the New York Main Branch could preempt or diminish the appearance of the St. Bernard. Then we’d arrived at the fun part, which was the search terms. With her mouth full of beef kebab, Viv said, “Am I adopted?” With my mouth full of spanakopita, I said, “Am I a good girl?” With her mouth full of falafel, Henrietta said, “Am I five or thirty-five?” “Why is thunder scary?” I said. “Discreet crotch-sniffing techniques,” Henrietta said. “Cheap mani-pedis in my area,” Viv said. “Oh, and cheapest self-driving car.” “Best hamburgers near me,” I said. “What is halitosis,” Henrietta said. “Halitosis what to do,” I said. “Where do humans pee,” Viv said. “Taco Bell Chihuahua male or female,” I said. “Target bull terrier married,” Viv said. “Lassie plastic surgery,” Henrietta said. “Funny cat videos,” I said. “Corgis embarrassing themselves YouTube,” Viv said. “YouTube little dog scares away big dog,” I said. “Doghub two poodles and one corgi,” Henrietta said. “Waxing my tail,” I said. “Is my tail a normal size,” Viv said.

the greatest inspiration for institutional change in American law enforcement came on an airport tarmac in Jacksonville, Florida, on October 4, 1971. The United States was experiencing an epidemic of airline hijackings at the time; there were five in one three-day period in 1970. It was in that charged atmosphere that an unhinged man named George Giffe Jr. hijacked a chartered plane out of Nashville, Tennessee, planning to head to the Bahamas. By the time the incident was over, Giffe had murdered two hostages—his estranged wife and the pilot—and killed himself to boot. But this time the blame didn’t fall on the hijacker; instead, it fell squarely on the FBI. Two hostages had managed to convince Giffe to let them go on the tarmac in Jacksonville, where they’d stopped to refuel. But the agents had gotten impatient and shot out the engine. And that had pushed Giffe to the nuclear option. In fact, the blame placed on the FBI was so strong that when the pilot’s wife and Giffe’s daughter filed a wrongful death suit alleging FBI negligence, the courts agreed. In the landmark Downs v. United States decision of 1975, the U.S. Court of Appeals wrote that “there was a better suited alternative to protecting the hostages’ well-being,” and said that the FBI had turned “what had been a successful ‘waiting game,’ during which two persons safely left the plane, into a ‘shooting match’ that left three persons dead.” The court concluded that “a reasonable attempt at negotiations must be made prior to a tactical intervention.” The Downs hijacking case came to epitomize everything not to do in a crisis situation, and inspired the development of today’s theories, training, and techniques for hostage negotiations. Soon after the Giffe tragedy, the New York City Police Department (NYPD) became the first police force in the country to put together a dedicated team of specialists to design a process and handle crisis negotiations. The FBI and others followed. A new era of negotiation had begun. HEART