Par avion
Une femme loves to fly. I love almost everything about it (except the lines and the hassle of practically stripping down to skivvies to go through security and then having to scramble to put everything back on and grab possessions off the conveyor and the appalling lack of legroom in coach, even for 5’1″ me). I love the smell of jet fuel as you get close to the airport. I love seeing the planes lined up at the gates and love watching them take off and land. I love finding my seat and the acceleration as we take off. I love seeing the familiar and unfamiliar landscapes spread out like maps below me.
First flight, here’s what I remember: I was 4, my sister 1-1/2. Being trussed up in our best clothes (fancy dresses, stiff petticoats, patent leather mary janes) and lectured about how we’d better behave, dammit. Passing through a large hangar-like building and crossing the tarmac and up the stair-on-wheels to board the plane. Jr. Hostess wings from the stewardesses (back then they were all female) and going up front to meet the pilots and see the cockpit. Chewing gum to make our ears pop. A hot meal with silverware (at that point the most elegant meal I’d had in my young life). Looking out the windows and playing with the shades. Saying “wheee!” when we hit turbulence. Using the (then) space-age potty. Landing in Chicago, sleepy. Light fixture on the ceiling at Midway airport looked like stars. Boarding the plane for Wheeling, having to walk uphill from the back of the plane to our seats. Little cloth curtains on the windows, and the wings had propellers. Waking up as we landed.
Another flight I’ll never forget involved propellers as well. When I was 16, my mother, my sister and I had flown with another family to Vancouver, and were connecting to Victoria. My mother was a nervous flyer and hated smaller planes and propellers especially. When we got to the boarding area and she saw that our connecting flight involved both, she headed to the nearest bar and started drinking. By the time we took off, she was already at twenty thousand feet. It was a beautiful flight that stayed fairly low and we flew over pretty green islands, some with sheep on the hills. On landing, which was a little bumpy but nothing out of the ordinary, our mother threw her head into her lap and started screaming “we’re going to DIE! We’re going to DIE!” (Oh, and during the flight she’d burned a hole in her dress with her cigarette.) The whole cabin of twenty or so people cracked up but we pretended we didn’t know her until we got into our rental car.
Then, for a lot of years, I didn’t fly at all. When I did start flying again, it was a new era, no longer special or elegant. People in sweats pushed and shoved to board, the seats were sometimes covered in crumbs or stuffed with trash from the last occupant, the flight attendants were surly. It had become Greyhound with wings.
If you’re reading this on Monday, I am probably somewhere between home and the airport, or waiting to board my flight, or 32,000 feet over Missouri, or landing in New York. But there’s another flight I plan to take sometime in the few months, and it doesn’t involve crowds or even pressurized cabins:
I had planned to take a ride in an open cockpit bi-plane for my 50th birthday, but then we went to Paris instead. I had hip surgery a few weeks before my 51st birthday. But I’m not going to wait for another birthday to pass before I have this adventure. The ironic part is that mon mari hates flying, and so I’ll probably have to take my son up with me. He shares my love of the wild blue yonder.
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What a great post, but I have to say I read the entire thing thinking, “She’s only 5’1″?” You seem taller to me. (Don’t ask me to explain that…)
Last year, had tonce in a lifetime experience (for me) of flying first class from Canada to Delhi: relaxed attendants, down comforters, smoked salmon, roses at every seat. Now back in coach-world, replicate what I can by carrying on treats, cashmere shawl, slippers and good music.
A pilot taught me the best way to cope with the erosion in travel pleasure: fly off peak hours only.
Bon voyage!
Just waiting for the car to take me to the airport, should be here any minute.
stylespy – heh, I always forget how short I am until I see my picture next to other people. Then I think, “damn, I’m short!”
🙂
duchesse – I’m armed with the shawl, and some small bags of almonds, and my hydrating spray. Unfortunately, this time I’m flying for business so I go when they tell me.
I totally understand your mother – LOL.
You will LOVE the little plane! Small plane flying like that is so much fun, much more like being a bird than being on a bus.
I was terrified of flying for many years–20 or so. More claustrophobia than anything else. That finally seems to have fallen away, and now I enjoy having nothing to do for several hours besides read, nap, meditate and maybe chat with the person next to me. (But I do move heaven and earth to get an aisle seat!)
Oh, I remember when flying used to be fun and an occasion for dressing up. Now when I dress for flying I think forget about what shoes will allow me to get them off easily for the security inspection. Flying has lost its glamor for me and it has become something akin to traveling via Greyhound.
I hope your flight to NYC was lovely and perhaps you even got bumped up to first class. 🙂
Everything Deja likes about flying, Miss J loathes and fears. Miss j is quite envious of Deja’s love of lying. It would make life much easier! How much better to board a plane & travel without panic!
Miss J wishes you a bon voyage. And great scarf shopping in NY.
I’m afraid I am like your mother …
I hate to take plane, But I love to travel far away.
So … I have to deal with my fear. But I don’t think alcool is a good medecine …
Fred the Mole
You’ve anticipated me yet again — I’ve been preparing a post on past flying experiences as a prelude to my trip next week. Yours is brilliant — you should meet my good friend, Jan, also about 5’1″, also loves flying. She accompanied me to L.A. once (my only visit there, for a conference), and I was astounded to hear her say, as we taxied for take-off, “Oh, this is my favourite part of the flight!” Sooo not mine! You and she are obviously kindred spirits. Hope today’s flight met your expectations (or better, hope it surprised you pleasantly)
Wow, we are definitely of the same generation. My first flight was on Pan Am when international flight was something really special. My mother wore a yellow Chanele-esque suit, maybe it actually was was Chanel. It was certainly from Saks in Beverly Hills. I wore a pretty dress, white gloves and a garter belt with tights…seriously, I’m not kidding. My brothers wore ties. All this for a trip to Japan to meet my father who came up from Saigon. We then continued to Hong Kong then Bangkok where we lived for a year.
Let’s just say that this was the beginning of my love for international travel Followed up with, on my 12th birthday…my request for a birthday gift of luggage…samsonite in blue.. and I got it!
Years later, after much travel the thrill has worn off. Except of course for a trip skiing by private jet. And I will always treasure my round trip transatlantic flight to Paris on the Concord..3 hours of pure high speed delight!
Today I would do almost anything to avoid air travel. On the other hand I must say that overall everyone that I’ve dealt with from TSA employees to flight attendants have done their utmost to make the exprerience acceptable.
And there are always those little travel memories that linger…When I moved to Paris I’ll never forget the man at customs who looked at me and said “You’re beautiful and you smell good” and stamped my passport. I could only have expected that from a French man….
I wish you even more more happiness that I’ve found while travelling.
That was me, waving from Missouri! Bon voyage!
I have decided only to take short flights,max. 2 hours. I simply don´t have any desire to longer ones. I know, I´m blessed-all the countries in Europe are not so far. I´m not at all frightened in the planes, it only is disturbing to come to the airport hours before the leave. Actually I have no need to travel across the continents. We,who live here in Europe have everything we need and my nightmare is ,if I had to travel to some exotic place, including US.