There is justice in this world.
This is the nose of a small jet taken at some time within five years of 1970. The plane belonged to the company of which my father was then a senior executive, Panhandle Eastern Pipe Line Co., long since folded into other entities (but not Enron). During my years in Houston, I didn't travel very much, but when I did I was hitching a ride on a plane like this. For over seven years, I was innocent of airlines and airports. As you can infer, I am standing on the tarmac right in front of the plane. Somewhere to the right of the shot is an automobile or two, their trunks opened so that luggage can be carried directly onto the plane - by the pilots themselves (they liked to do the stowing). I imagine that private jet travel is still much like this, but perhaps in the wake of 9/11 it's a little less simple. Driving up to a plane and walking a few steps to board it, let me assure you, can spoil you for life.
In 1977, my widowed father and I took a trip to Europe. We crossed the Atlantic on a Pan Am 747 - in coach. Coach was a terrible shock to my system, and I remember feeling a little weird being in this giant metal bucket over the middle of the Atlantic in the pitch dark. But flying had never bothered me much, and I arrived in London without excessive relief at finding myself on the ground. The short trip to Paris, our next leg, was smooth, too. It was the next flight, in a Caravelle, from Paris to Vienna, that my fear of flying took hold. I had the unshakable conviction throughout that we were in a sharp, soon to be screeching, descent, even though the mountains below grew no closer. My fear of flying was the legacy of all those private flights. I never doubted that the company planes were in tiptop shape because I knew how proud the pilots were of their ships. This was a confidence that I have never been able to extend to the fine mechanics at American Airlines - doubtless because I don't know them.
So if you're looking for payback, look no further.
Comments
I'm terrified just looking at that picture.
What a fascinating childhood you must have had.
I flew a fair amount as a kid (mostly to and from Jamaica to visit family) so I simply cannot understand how my fear of flying has gotten so out of control as an adult. Perhaps because as adults we are so much more aware of the real dangers in life, not to mention our own mortality? Who knows...
Posted by: patricia | June 12, 2005 07:21 PM
Patricia - It was perhaps a good childhood to have had, but there aren't too many things that I miss about it. But yes: by the age of fifteen, I had been to all of the States except those in the South and to Bermuda as well. (There were quick trips across the border to Quebec and to Tijuana that don't count.)
I agree that we may know too much as adults. But I wish I had Kathleen's attitude. She thinks that flying is kind of fun, even the bumpy parts...
It may also be that planes are built to be lighter and more flexible today, and that they rattle and creak a lot more than they used to. That would also make turbulence more noticeable.
Posted by: R J Keefe![[TypeKey Profile Page]](http://www.portifex.com/DailyBlague/nav-commenters.gif)
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June 12, 2005 07:32 PM
I've been noodling a solution to the vexing pre- and post-flight hassles that accompany modern day travel. Here's my idea: there's no terminal for passengers. Travelers drive up to the plane (or take a train or a subway or a bus), someone takes their luggage, and they "plane" (isn't that the opposite of deplane?). The reverse happens at the other end, with a rental car or a shuttle or public transportation. If I think about it for more than a few minutes, the whole concept collapses. There's a kind of Jetson's cleanliness that continues to appeal to me, however, and your description of the old days of private air travel captures it exactly! As for fear of flying, I don't have it. Still, the concept of the metal bucket sticking up in the sky boggles my mind. It shouldn't! It's too heavy. Forget explaining to me aerodynamic principles. Yadda Yadda Yadda. I've also lately become sensitive to how preposterous it is to change time zones and zip across so many miles of land and sea so fast. It isn't human. I'm with you. Let's stay home.
Posted by: Susan | June 13, 2005 12:43 AM