Amazing Flight #1

Back in the late 40s or early 50s if you wanted a break from the snow, sleet, and slush, you drove from Spencerport to Florida.  It was basically a 4-day trip with Mom and Dad in front, the kids in back.  Considering the highway system, the cars (8 to 12 mpg) and the distractions, it was slow going.  Especially with kids that needed to stop a lot to drink, pee, buy Stuckey’s Pecan Bars, see an assortment of snakes, bears, monkees, alligators and more at the roadside attractions.  But it was worth it to get to see the sun, the sea, and all those oranges and grapefruit after months of dismal WNY winter blahs.

But in the late winter of 1950 or ’51, Dad decided we could afford to fly.  I was already a seasoned flyer, having spent many weekends flying with my Dad in the front seat of a Piper Cub.  He flew out of a dirt strip west of Hilton.  The Piper was yellow, with an overhead wing, aluminum or wood framing and canvas.  Even though I was around four or five, I could pick her up by the tail and help turn the Cub around on the ground.  Dad sat in back with a stick and rudder pedals and I stood in the front seat so I could see out the windows.  I so remember the smell of the leather seat, the aviation oil and fuel, and the noise.  What thrill.  But I digress.

Flash forward five or six years. I don’t remember if it was United, American or Mohawk.  But I remember the Rochester airport was on Scottsville Road and aircraft was the DC-3.  And in my eyes it was huge compared to a Piper Cub.  We boarded on a cold, snowy January morning around 8am.  It was an uphill struggle to our seats.  The pilot got a visual thumbs up from the guy in the control tower next to the hanger, and we were off to Florida.

Flying from Rochester to Tampa was an all day affair.  The DC3 was state-of-the-art and the service and meals were better than what’s available today. But we had to stop to refuel, pick up passengers and mail.  We stopped in Pitts-burgh.  We stopped in Baltimore.  We stopped in Atlanta.  And finally, around 7:00 pm, we arrived in Tampa.  That’s when I had one of the most memorable moments of my life.  I was still dressed in a snowsuit and boots.  The DC3 wasn’t all that warm in the winter.  I was first at the door to exit.  When they finally got the stairs in place and opened the door, it hit me.  There was no snow!  There were palm trees silhouetted in an orange and pink sunset.  There were 80º breezes floating into our cabin scented with orange blossoms.  Talk about “died and went to heaven”.  Sixty-some years later and I still remember that singular moment.  

Beats the hell out of jet fuel fumes in a hot and dirty jetway, crowds of weirdo passengers with ear buds and wireless headsets and grumpy, full-of-themselves TSA gropers.