Holy Christ, this old guy isn't afraid of death.
Your delta-wing plane has no engines. Physics dictates that you and your passengers are doomed to a fiery death. How do you deal with it?
Apparently, when you're a millionty years old... calm and composed.
Hats off, of course. Enough crazy has happened in the last couple of weeks to wipe clean the achievement of a perfect water landing (in layman's terms, a horrific firey drowning exercise). But the composure of not only the pilot jarting headlong into hydro-doom... but of the air traffic controller executing emergency procedures and activating emergency response in the unlikely event that some star child were to survive the splashdown. Wow... just, wow. How are you?
My favorite part is the guy on the edge of the wing falling into the water. When you're the considerate nice guy first out of the plane, you walk to the furthest edge of the wing. What's your reward? Wet coldness with your life-raft (read: AirBus 320) floating away. I feel for you, Properly-Walking-To-The-End-Of-The-Wing-Guy.