[redwitch]

My first flight was Frankfort, Germany to NYC, after a bus, car and train ride from Baghdad. We stayed in New York about three hours -- long enough for dad to buy a car to drive us to California. No way were his wife and kids going to get their first view of his country from the sky. From there, it was another plane to Okinawa. All in all, this journey took eleven days, with so many stops and landings that we were all inveterate travelers by the final destination. We took a prop plane to Shannon, Ireland; next leg to Greenland was a jet; back to a prop to NYC. Don't remember the stops or planes from SFO to Japan.

I was almost five at the time and thought it was truly magical. My brother and I were invited to the cockpit on every leg and were royally spoiled by the stewardesses. Sadly, after that we flew so often that it became mundane.

Probably the most exciting flight was from Peking (at the time) to Moscow. We were escorted by military jets, both American and Russian, the whole flight. This was a military transport and we sat in the cockpit. It was hauling equipment and we weren't allowed to leave the cockpit even to go to the bathroom. Mom was afraid the escort planes would start fighting and bring our plane down by mistake.

And, of course, we always had to get dressed up for the flights, even the military transports, which my brother and I both hated.