Although I was too young for a Maidenform bra, this was an incredible experience.
(Ed: I don't get it about Maidenform)
You have to be old and, well, have breasts.
(Ed: You don't have breasts)
No, but I like them a lot.
The situation is a flight from Sydney, Australia, where we left about seven in the evening and arrived in San Franciso at a little before seven in the evening ... on the same day. We had crossed the International Dateline during the course of the flight and that 'erased' the time it took to get here and, thus, we got here about half an hour before we left Australia. This was my introduction to time travel but it wouldn't be the last.
The climb out from Sydney is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. As we pulled away from the coast and gained altitude, more and more of the coast and all its lights revealed itself. That was Australia saying you'll miss me when you're gone and, sure enough, I still do. This was in 1962.
There was big luxury in this for my ol' Dad as he had been quite a globetrotter and did world lecture tours three times. All or most of those flights were on Vickers Viscount four-engine turboprop aircraft so hopping a ride on a jet was huge. The Lockheed Constellation was another four-engine turboprop of the period but she was beautiful and the Viscount, well, was not.
The Vickers Viscount still flies:
Sometimes after a trip my ol' Dad, who dearly loved his bravado, would say, you know how it goes, we lost a motor over the Indian Ocean but it was alright. No problem.
If the tail had fallen off, he would have said, no worries. The tail did fall off and the landing was a little bumpy but it was good one.
(Ed: what makes that a good one?)
I lived. (It was an act. It scared the bejeebers out of him but he would never, ever let anyone see him sweat.)
For his six kids and his wife, this was like going to Disneyland and finding it's at thirty thousand feet. We had never even been to Luna Park which was a famous amusement park in Sydney but taking six kids to a place like that cost a fortune back then just as it does now.
The climb-out from Sydney was just the warm-up as my ol' Dad had some celebrity clout plus he was one charming cuss. That resulted in an invitation for my brother and I to come up to the cockpit.
Note: this was before the time of exploding children although I don't think one has ever exploded on an aircraft, maybe (probably) it's never happened anywhere.
The Boeing 707 cockpit was a kid's dream of the Disneyland control room as there were gauges all over the place. If they could have put some on the floor somehow then maybe they would have done that too. There was no possible way anything could ever again be this cool.
Note: observe the duct tape. From this we conclude one can fix a Boeing 707 the same way one can fix a '57 Chevy.
We could see out the windows there clouds way, way the hell below us and way, way the hell below them were tiny islands. This was stratospheric. We will be in outer space soon, man.
And we were kids, we weren't even stoned.
There was great coolness in that and, sure, my brother and I will sleep after that ... but it didn't matter as the next move was to land in Fuji at Suva or Nadi (I guess). The Boeing 707 was ultra-sophistication for the time but it burned a lot of fuel so it could not go non-stop to San Francisco. We were glad of it as Fiji was like some mystical jungle and my parents would never have found us again if we got outside. We have got to explore this place.
That exploration never happened as I have not been back but it remains way up on the list of places which have some kind of cool mysticism for no particular reason ... and therefore needs to be explored.
Hey, why not. Let's go to Honolulu. Who would want to miss Hawaii ... and miss getting more fuel.
This time it wasn't so much mystical but Hawaii has its own unbelievable. The biggest discovery in the Honolulu airport wasn't about the volcanoes, the fantastic surf, or even the black sand beaches. We never saw any of them.
What we did find was a water bubbler machine which dispensed pineapple juice. Holy mackerel, how did America get this cool.
Mummy, Daddy, the machine makes pineapple juice. Come try it, come try it.
Previously I may have neglected to mention my ol' Mother assumed the kids would sleep most of the way so she dressed all of us in pajamas. One of the greatest travels of my life was accomplished in a pair of pajamas.
On arrival one of the greetings was, "Oh my God, from Australia, amazing. How y'all learn English so fast?"
None of us said anything but we all had the same thought. It hasn't changed much.
Left to right: Alexis, Annette, Anne (my ol' Mother), Alistair, Andrew, Alan, Aileen.
For family this picture is a flaming bitch and I apologize for posting it as I didn't realize how hard it would hit. It is still part of the story and I don't want to give that away. Fuck closure. I don't believe that bullshit anyway. The picture I believe.
Sorry but must close it on that one. Sometimes impossible things happen and the only choice is to accept them.
It was not my intention to crash land with this story but, like John Lennon said, "You make plans and then life happens."
Let's retry the exit.
(Ed: the ride from Greece to Scotland was in pajamas)
I do seem to have something of a proclivity for pajamas as many of the major events of my life have been taken place while I was wearing them. Some say clothes make the man and typically they mean a designer suit but I find the truth is in pajamas.
(Ed: weak but acceptable)
Note: many of the travels are shown under the Map tab on the top.
(Ed: I don't get it about Maidenform)
You have to be old and, well, have breasts.
(Ed: You don't have breasts)
No, but I like them a lot.
The situation is a flight from Sydney, Australia, where we left about seven in the evening and arrived in San Franciso at a little before seven in the evening ... on the same day. We had crossed the International Dateline during the course of the flight and that 'erased' the time it took to get here and, thus, we got here about half an hour before we left Australia. This was my introduction to time travel but it wouldn't be the last.
The climb out from Sydney is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. As we pulled away from the coast and gained altitude, more and more of the coast and all its lights revealed itself. That was Australia saying you'll miss me when you're gone and, sure enough, I still do. This was in 1962.
There was big luxury in this for my ol' Dad as he had been quite a globetrotter and did world lecture tours three times. All or most of those flights were on Vickers Viscount four-engine turboprop aircraft so hopping a ride on a jet was huge. The Lockheed Constellation was another four-engine turboprop of the period but she was beautiful and the Viscount, well, was not.
The Vickers Viscount still flies:
Sometimes after a trip my ol' Dad, who dearly loved his bravado, would say, you know how it goes, we lost a motor over the Indian Ocean but it was alright. No problem.
If the tail had fallen off, he would have said, no worries. The tail did fall off and the landing was a little bumpy but it was good one.
(Ed: what makes that a good one?)
I lived. (It was an act. It scared the bejeebers out of him but he would never, ever let anyone see him sweat.)
For his six kids and his wife, this was like going to Disneyland and finding it's at thirty thousand feet. We had never even been to Luna Park which was a famous amusement park in Sydney but taking six kids to a place like that cost a fortune back then just as it does now.
The climb-out from Sydney was just the warm-up as my ol' Dad had some celebrity clout plus he was one charming cuss. That resulted in an invitation for my brother and I to come up to the cockpit.
Note: this was before the time of exploding children although I don't think one has ever exploded on an aircraft, maybe (probably) it's never happened anywhere.
The Boeing 707 cockpit was a kid's dream of the Disneyland control room as there were gauges all over the place. If they could have put some on the floor somehow then maybe they would have done that too. There was no possible way anything could ever again be this cool.
Note: observe the duct tape. From this we conclude one can fix a Boeing 707 the same way one can fix a '57 Chevy.
We could see out the windows there clouds way, way the hell below us and way, way the hell below them were tiny islands. This was stratospheric. We will be in outer space soon, man.
And we were kids, we weren't even stoned.
There was great coolness in that and, sure, my brother and I will sleep after that ... but it didn't matter as the next move was to land in Fuji at Suva or Nadi (I guess). The Boeing 707 was ultra-sophistication for the time but it burned a lot of fuel so it could not go non-stop to San Francisco. We were glad of it as Fiji was like some mystical jungle and my parents would never have found us again if we got outside. We have got to explore this place.
That exploration never happened as I have not been back but it remains way up on the list of places which have some kind of cool mysticism for no particular reason ... and therefore needs to be explored.
Hey, why not. Let's go to Honolulu. Who would want to miss Hawaii ... and miss getting more fuel.
This time it wasn't so much mystical but Hawaii has its own unbelievable. The biggest discovery in the Honolulu airport wasn't about the volcanoes, the fantastic surf, or even the black sand beaches. We never saw any of them.
What we did find was a water bubbler machine which dispensed pineapple juice. Holy mackerel, how did America get this cool.
Mummy, Daddy, the machine makes pineapple juice. Come try it, come try it.
Previously I may have neglected to mention my ol' Mother assumed the kids would sleep most of the way so she dressed all of us in pajamas. One of the greatest travels of my life was accomplished in a pair of pajamas.
On arrival one of the greetings was, "Oh my God, from Australia, amazing. How y'all learn English so fast?"
None of us said anything but we all had the same thought. It hasn't changed much.
Left to right: Alexis, Annette, Anne (my ol' Mother), Alistair, Andrew, Alan, Aileen.
For family this picture is a flaming bitch and I apologize for posting it as I didn't realize how hard it would hit. It is still part of the story and I don't want to give that away. Fuck closure. I don't believe that bullshit anyway. The picture I believe.
Sorry but must close it on that one. Sometimes impossible things happen and the only choice is to accept them.
It was not my intention to crash land with this story but, like John Lennon said, "You make plans and then life happens."
Let's retry the exit.
(Ed: the ride from Greece to Scotland was in pajamas)
I do seem to have something of a proclivity for pajamas as many of the major events of my life have been taken place while I was wearing them. Some say clothes make the man and typically they mean a designer suit but I find the truth is in pajamas.
(Ed: weak but acceptable)
Note: many of the travels are shown under the Map tab on the top.
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