Propeller One-Way Night Coach

It was late at night,

and there was hardly anyone in the terminal.

My mother saw a photograph of Liz Taylor in an upcoming movie

called The V.I.P.s.

She wanted a coat just like it,

except she bought hers from a church basement sale

where all the wealthy people sold their secondhand clothes.

- Goodbye, Grandma. - Goodbye, sweetheart.

- Mwah. - I'll miss you.

- Mmm. Goodbye, Mom. - Mmm.

Goodbye, honey.

- - Final call for Trans World Airlines,

Flight 700 Royal Ambassador Super Jet service to London.

Now boarding at Gate 3.

All aboard, please.

The voice over the PA system seemed so sophisticated.

I imagined it belonged to someone really beautiful,

more like an actress of some sort.

Maybe if I act like Marilyn Monroe,

the ticket agent will put us in first class.

She also said that all the drinks were on the house

if you flew that way.

Of course I didn't really care, as long we really got to go.

Trans World Airlines, Flight 393

Super Constellation service to Pittsburgh,

Dayton, Chicago, Kansas City,

Denver and Los Angeles.

Now boarding at the West Arcade.

All aboard, please.

The excitement ran through my body

like something I had never felt before.

Knowing that, within minutes, I would be airborne for the first time

was comparable to nothing,

including playing doctor with the kids on the block.

And that was saying a lot for an eight-year-old.

I remember everything about that night.

The lights being dim in the terminal,

color of the airline insignia

as we moved quickly to the gate in the West Arcade.

Even my mother seemed excited,

but for totally different reasons, I'm sure.

Probably something like the free drinks that she could have,

or the potential for meeting a handsome man on the plane.

My mother was about 49 years old, and quite attractive.

Blue eyes, nice hair,

and a good figure for her age, she told me.

She would even have had a better figure if she hadn't had me so late in life.

And a lot of men didn't mind a little bit of a potbelly.

It was very sexy to some, she thought.

Maybe she'd fall in love with someone really cool,

like the captain of the plane or something.

Rushing through the Idlewild airport was so much fun.

I couldn't believe we were really, actually going to fly this time.

Most of our visits to the airport were to see people off.

One time my mother actually had to fly to go to work

in some play that she was doing in summer stock.

But this time I would get to go.

It all seemed very surreal.

Now my heart was in my throat.

Everything seemed as if it were in slow motion.

She was beautiful.

Silver and white, with two red accent stripes

and the letters TWA printed on the side.

Oh, what a sight.

The wind blew cold in my face, but it couldn't interrupt my first love.

Noble in appearance, strong and powerful in impression.

This would begin an experience I would never forget.

As we climbed the steps to board the aircraft,

I noticed something very peculiar.

There wasn't very many people boarding with us.

Only a few really.

Then I pretended that the flight was really only for me and my mother,

and wasn't that unique?

Welcome aboard. It's much warmer in here.

The stewardess at the top of the stairs was tall and slim

and had a warm smile.

So we also have an emergency map for you.

There was something different about her.

Something that was hard to pinpoint.

Later my mother would get to know her quite well.

Almost best friends.

I did ask her why Liz seemed so different from others,

and my mom told me that it was because she had depth

and true sadness in her life from being in a concentration camp.

As the engines started, one at a time,

I sat in what seemed like a big, soft, comfortable chair.

I could hardly hear them at all.

Big propellers turned around as fire exited through the backside exhausts.

I knew it was the jet age,

but there was something exciting about being in an aircraft

that would take twice as long to get there as a jet would,

especially my first time.

I remember I saved my coins in a black floral purse.

Your grandmother, my mother,

gave me this floral purse to save money in it.

And now you should save money in it,

and then maybe we can go on a short trip together.

We could go to Philadelphia, Hartford.

We could go to Boston!

Yes.

There was nothing like it when my mother got excited about something.

The whole world seemed to have brightness and hope.

- - Okay.

Okay.

I was gonna keep this a surprise,

but we are moving to Los Angeles.

Real… Really?

There's a director friend of mine from the Allentown Playhouse

who has promised if we get ourselves out west by February,

he is going to get me some work in a film.

For real?

I can't believe it.

Mom already had quite a few jobs

as an extra under her belt,

so it didn't seem that far-fetched.

She also taught drama in school,

and prior to that had a full-time stage career.

And when she wasn't working, I was her best audience.

I'll be right back.

I gotta go check my schedules right away.

I practically flew upstairs to my room,

where I had my airline schedules.

United, American, TWA.

There it is. "Propeller One-Way Night Coach.

$95 full fare, children half fare."

That's it!

Now back to flight times.

"Trans World Airlines, Flight 393

departs Idlewild airport at 9:00 p.m.

Super Constellation services to Los Angeles

with intermittent stops at Pittsburgh,

Dayton, Chicago, Kansas City, Denver and Los Angeles.

Arrives at 3:00 p.m. the next day."

Only Trans World Airlines

links 70 cities in the USA with 15 world centers overseas.

Depend on…

By the time I came back down,

the lights were off in the living room.

And the music from the radio portion of the stereo was playing softly,

"Wives and Lovers," sung by Jack Jones.

Her cigarette was burning in the dark, a glass of white wine by her side.

Then I worried that what she said about moving to Los Angeles

might not be true.

Maybe just a daydream of hers.

Oh, well.

I thought I could still save for the short trip.

Maybe I'll… I'll look at my schedules again.

My grandmother had a '57 Plymouth Belvedere.

So there we were, in December of 1962,

on our way to Idlewild Airport with Flight 393 on my mind.

When are we gonna get there?

Honey, when-when the odometer gets to 62,

we'll be there.

Now it was fun to see the big billboards

boasting different opportunities that one could take, like,

"Fly Pan Am, seven hours to Paris."

Or "TWA, the best way to California."

And here I am on this plane

going to one of the farthest trips the airline offers.

There were a total of about 15 people on this first segment of the flight.

I was wearing a hunter's cap that I forgot to remove,

probably due to coming in from the cold.

Nevertheless, on takeoff, this was my look.

I could tell that my mother was excited for me,

but for the moment was kind of impatiently waiting to be airborne

so she could have a cigarette and her drink.

I really enjoyed watching the fire come out of the back of the engines.

The in-flight magazine would tell you

that for a propeller engine, that was typical.

As we sped down the runway, that surreal feeling came over me again.

And at that moment, the aircraft left the ground.

- I can't believe I'm flying. - Hmm.

My mother looked straight ahead,

and then she turned and smiled at me.

I'll always remember my mother that way.

- -

The takeoff was much more gentle in feeling than I thought it would be.

For some reason, everything that happened thus far that night

seemed perfect.

For years, no matter what negative experience I might have,

from the time I would leave for the airport

until the time I would arrive at my destination,

life would seem safe, and I would be happy.

My mother liked Manhattans,

but I liked Coca Colas.

Liz showed up by the side of our seats.

Now what can I get you to drink?

- Can I have a Coke? - Sure.

- I would love a Manhattan. - Of course.