Departure

My mother reached down, straightened my tie and told me to go on outside and wait by the car.

My sister soon joined me, dressed in a typical 1970’s plaid dress, knee socks and black buckle shoes.

The sun had just started to rise on this late summer day in the suburbs of Washington, DC.  Me being all of six years old and my four year old sister, dressed to the nines standing in the driveway next to the family’s light blue Volkswagen Beetle must have been a sight of curiosity for the neighbor out walking his dog before leaving for work.  He must have known, although we were in our Sunday best, church was not our destination.

Soon our mother appeared dressed in the latest seasonal fashion and in keeping with mine and my sister’s attire.  She pushed the storm door open and stepped to the side of the small concrete stoop to hold the door open for our father to emerge.  He was in a brownish suit with a perfectly coordinated tie that was classic seventies, ironing board wide.  Turning around to lock the door he set down a large Samsonite suitcase, white faux leather with chrome latches and trim.  The kind of suitcase Samsonite tested by tossing into a gorilla cage to demonstrate its durability.  In today’s terms “large” was an understatement, it was a giant piece of luggage, big enough that my sister and I would often pull it out from its storage place in the basement, lay it open and use it as an imaginary boat.  The massive Samsonite though was the perfect size to pack the entire family’s needs, as the four of us were headed; not to church, or a funeral or family photos, but to the airport for the trip of my young life and a starting point for my lust to wander and discover exotic tropical lands.  We were going to Hawaii.

My father was a pilot for United Airlines.  In 1970 he had been with the airline for just three years getting hired on after finishing his enlistment with the Air Force which he joined right out of college.  My father was a planner and although he would have loved to have flown jets, with my mother’s expressed lack of interest in being a military wife forever he knew he should plan accordingly for a post Air Force career.  If he were to continue to fly, his best option was the growing airline industry that was moving into the jet age.  When he learned the airlines were more interested in pilots with multi-engine experience he set aside his lust for fighters and got assigned to the KC-135 Stratotanker, an aerial refueling gas station for other aircraft.  The KC-135 was a military outfitted Boeing 707, the Air Force’s first jet-powered refueling tanker.  As a tanker pilot with the 99^th Airborne Refueling Squadron, known as RAMROD, he did a tour of Vietnam refueling fighter jets that were flying missions into the war zone and later was assigned to the Strategic Air Command responsible for keeping the Air Force bombers in the air during the early cold war, all setting himself up for an easier transition to the airline.

As an employee for United Airlines one of the benefits a family enjoyed was reduced fare airline tickets.  We were called pass riders when we used this benefit.  It was a pretty appropriate name, not because it was a “free” pass to fly but because we regularly got passed over by paying customers for a seat, thusly spending a lot of time hanging out in airports waiting for open seats on a flight.  Hours and hours of my childhood were spent in airports.  Wandering freely between scheduled departures.  To this day one of my favorite things is the smells and hum of an airport.  A requirement for all pass riders was you had to dress up.  No matter our ages, no matter our destination or origins it was jackets and ties for males and dresses for females.  I don’t remember having an issue with the dress code then and I still don’t dress for comfort flying.   Lessons learned, traditions adhered to.  For this trip to Hawaii we were all in compliance.

In 1970 United started using the new Boeing 747 Jumbo Jet for the Hawaii route.  The classic humped back, wide body airliner was a marvel to behold and for me I still associate it with Hawaii.  At that time the second floor; the hump area, was always a lounge available for those passengers that were in first class.  A major perk of pass riding was you got whatever seats were available and if it was first class you enjoyed all that came with the seat.  I don’t recall on this trip if we snagged a first class seat, but I definitely recall being in first class, on subsequent trips to the Hawaiian Islands and sneaking up to the hump.  The lounge was like a Tiki bar with Polynesian effects and feel.  United did it up right.  The trip was an event and they didn’t hold back on the atmosphere.   Regardless if you got to visit the lounge you knew you were traveling to someplace exotic.  The flight crew was dressed in floral luau attire with a lei or two thrown in.  The meals were served with pineapples and flower adornments.  It was all very festive with the feel of the islands as you might imagine them to be.  A perfect prelude to what was to ahead.