acuradriveronr3train
05-12-2006, 04:53 PM
I'm almost done packing, and we're leaving in about an hour. We'll be taking the train to the airport, and we want to allow plenty of time.
Two of my most memorable past flights to Rochester (my mother's hometown and home during my childhood of four of her siblings and their children) were on the 12th of the month. It's just a coincidence, but I couldn't help think of this today. When I was 12 years old, one of my aunts invited me to spend a few weeks with her during the summer. Both she and my mother thought I could use a change of scenery in an environment filled with loving relatives, and I thought it sounded like a great idea, too.
That was my first flight by myself. One of my other aunts had come to visit a few months earlier, and I remember going with my family to pick her up at National Airport. She came on United. When I was very young, we made a few trips to Rochester on an airline called Capital, but United had bought them and now ran the service from Washington and Baltimore to Rochester. My mother made my reservation on United, but it was from Baltimore, whose airport was called Friendship back in those days. I had a bit of apprehension a few days before the trip because there was a United crash involving a flight that had originated in Washington - no survivors. But my mother reassured me that everything would be all right.
At the airport, my mother bought me a couple of magazines to read on the plane. Once on the plane, a flight attendant (probably called a "stewardess" back then) took me up front to meet the flight crew, and it really put me at ease to meet them. I was seated next to two grown women, sisters from Rochester who had come down to see a third sister off on a cruise from Baltimore. The trip from Rochester to Baltimore had been their first-ever flight. I still remember that the woman sitting next to me was named Betty.
It was raining when we got to Rochester. This was in the days before jetways, and we got out of the plane on the tarmac. The airline held umbrellas over us as we walked to the door of the terminal. My aunt was right by the door waiting for me, and I was very happy to see her. Back in those days, there was a practice of making a person-to-person call asking for a non-existent person as a way of sending a message to someone. My aunt went to a pay phone and made such a call to my mother to let her know I had got there okay.
I didn't get to fly home because my family planned their vacation around picking me up and then going on to another destination.
Twenty years ago, I also flew to Rochester on the 12th of the month, by myself (but by then I had made several flights alone), to attend the wedding of one of my cousins. He's still married to the same woman, and I look forward to seeing both of them and their teenage daughter this weekend.
Time to go pack my "toy bag" of stuff for the flight.
Two of my most memorable past flights to Rochester (my mother's hometown and home during my childhood of four of her siblings and their children) were on the 12th of the month. It's just a coincidence, but I couldn't help think of this today. When I was 12 years old, one of my aunts invited me to spend a few weeks with her during the summer. Both she and my mother thought I could use a change of scenery in an environment filled with loving relatives, and I thought it sounded like a great idea, too.
That was my first flight by myself. One of my other aunts had come to visit a few months earlier, and I remember going with my family to pick her up at National Airport. She came on United. When I was very young, we made a few trips to Rochester on an airline called Capital, but United had bought them and now ran the service from Washington and Baltimore to Rochester. My mother made my reservation on United, but it was from Baltimore, whose airport was called Friendship back in those days. I had a bit of apprehension a few days before the trip because there was a United crash involving a flight that had originated in Washington - no survivors. But my mother reassured me that everything would be all right.
At the airport, my mother bought me a couple of magazines to read on the plane. Once on the plane, a flight attendant (probably called a "stewardess" back then) took me up front to meet the flight crew, and it really put me at ease to meet them. I was seated next to two grown women, sisters from Rochester who had come down to see a third sister off on a cruise from Baltimore. The trip from Rochester to Baltimore had been their first-ever flight. I still remember that the woman sitting next to me was named Betty.
It was raining when we got to Rochester. This was in the days before jetways, and we got out of the plane on the tarmac. The airline held umbrellas over us as we walked to the door of the terminal. My aunt was right by the door waiting for me, and I was very happy to see her. Back in those days, there was a practice of making a person-to-person call asking for a non-existent person as a way of sending a message to someone. My aunt went to a pay phone and made such a call to my mother to let her know I had got there okay.
I didn't get to fly home because my family planned their vacation around picking me up and then going on to another destination.
Twenty years ago, I also flew to Rochester on the 12th of the month, by myself (but by then I had made several flights alone), to attend the wedding of one of my cousins. He's still married to the same woman, and I look forward to seeing both of them and their teenage daughter this weekend.
Time to go pack my "toy bag" of stuff for the flight.