In 1958 – overnight from Cleveland to Tampa in a turboprop. Through thunderstorms that bounced us around in “air pockets.” Watching the flames coming from the exhaust and wondering how we’d know if the engine were on fire or not.
At dawn we descended and landed at the old Tampa Airport. You could see all of the West Coast of Florida from altitude. That was back before enclosed jetways, so you stepped off onto the tarmac and into the humidity, then followed a covered cinderblock breezeway into the terminal. (The new TPA was still being planned. My sister’s father-in-law still had a 40-acre orchard in the middle of what’s now RWY18/36.)
1995 (I’m a youngin) to Orlando, Florida. Family vacation to Disneyworld. I really don’t remember much about the flight itself. I’ve since flown four more times, to Israel and back, within Israel, to San Diego and back, and to Scotland and back. I learned eventually - in case anyone here has a fear of flying - to watch the flight staff. If they don’t look nervous, then there’s nothing wrong.
1954 and I was 4 months old, Pennsylvania to California. I imagine I was on my mom’s lap for that one.
I was a United Airlines brat and flew around by myself quite a bit , to see family and such. Flying nonrev was much easier back then.
The one solo flight I remember best was NY to Denver. There was another solo kid across the aisle who was driving the flight attendants bonkers, but they were very nice.
When we began to descend, he kept saying “We’re going down We’re going down We’re going down!”
First airplane ride was when I was maybe 8 or 9 - a friend of my dad’s had a plane and he took us up for a ride. We flew over our house, but I never did pick it out. (I grew up in a row house - all I saw were endless flat, black roofs.)
First trip was the summer of 1971. I was working for my dad and he had some documents that had to be taken to Minneapolis for signature right away. Guess it was before the day of FedEx. So at the ripe old age of 17, I donned professional attire, complete with briefcase, and boarded a jet. That one day, I experienced 5 takeoffs and landings (it’s always best when the ratio is 1:1) and I freaked out the secretary of the man who needed to sign the papers - she thought I was in my 20s, not a mere high school student. What an ego boost!
I don’t remember my first flight. When I was young I flew a lot in single prop 2 or 4 seater planes (and a few very exciting times 6 seats!) My father was a flight instructor, and had to log hours flying to maintain his certifications, so we flew to Block Island several times a summer and took various other trips as well.
My first “real” (commercial) flight was in 1977 to Switzerland. We got temporarily deverted (by weather, IIRC) and had to land in Nice, France, and wait there a while. Other than that it was uneventful.
1978, I was 3 years old. Cleveland-Dallas-Athens-Tehran. My dad got a job with Bell helicopters and we were all going to live in Isfahan for a few years (ended up only being 1 year and some change, we all know what happened in '79!)
Given my age, I remember an amazing amount of detail about the trip. I don’t remember which particular airlines we took, although I suspect the Dallas-Athens leg was via Pan Am. I was given a little pair of plastic pilots wings, and a LONG tour of the cockpit during the flight from Cleveland to Dallas (from taxi-out to cruise, things sure were different in those days!). I was BEYOND blown away by it all, and have been a die-hard aviation fan ever since.
I was 14 and flying alone from Albany, NY to Tampa, FL to visit my Aunt and Uncle. I got my first period on the second leg (of the flight) on the way down. Stupid thing lasted for 10 days out of my 14 day vacation.
February 1963, Eastern Airlines DC-6, Cleveland to Tampa on a family vacation, and even though I was only 4 I remember it pretty clearly - from the lake-effect snowstorms in CLE to the beachfront motel in Madeira Beach. The rest of the trip was a blast, too. We used special airplane-type suitcases made of cardboard - they weighed it all at check-in and you had to pay extra for overages. Remember overseas letters written on that thin, cheap blue paper, both sides including the flaps, then seal it closed? Same reason.
Took me quite a while, but I’m finally finishing up my private ticket. I might have considered flying for a living if I had had better eyesight, but the engineering side is great too.
Aeroflot flight from Tokyo to London via Moscow. I believe the equipment was an Ilyushin Il-62 - I remember the 4 jet engines on the tail. It was around 1983, when I was in third grade.
Sometime it’s still hard for me to believe I didn’t fly anywhere until I was 12 years old, but at least I got to go someplace far: England. That was, IIRC, a TWA Lockheed TriStar L-1011, before my dad discovered the wonders of British Airways.
I was four years old, and emigrating from India to America. Don’t remember a thing, everything was so shocking to me, but my parents say I was fascinated and a little scared by all the “ghosts” (white people) on the plane. I’d never *seen * so many white people. That didn’t stop me from talking to nearly everyone and charming them right out of their pants.
MY parents said I flew from Chicago to Dallas when I was 2, but I don’t rmember it. What I remember is being a 5-year old and having my father strap me into the co-pilot’s seat and taking me up in his company’s plane. He only let me touch one control, one time, but it was the ultimate experience.
Denver, circa 1960. I was about 12 years old and in the Boy Scouts. They had a contest to see who could sell the most tickets to the Boy Scout Jamboree. They took a bunch of the top sellers to Stapleton Airport and we got into a chartered turboprop plane of some sort. They took off, gave us a paper cup of Coke, circled the airport and landed again.
When my oldest daughter was about 2 or 3 we took her on her first flight. She was all excited because we’d been priming her about getting to fly in an airplane.
When we walked down the jetway and entered the plane, she stopped, placed her hands on her hips and declared, “This isn’t an airplane, it’s CHAIRS!”
I was a newborn, and my (single) uncle had the dubious pleasure of flying me across the country to meet my mother’s side of the family, who had not yet seen me.
From what I hear, any unwillingness on his part regarding an extended cross-country babysitting job was allayed when he found that stewardesses thought single uncles taking care of newborn nephews was simply adorable!
1998, I got a joy ride in a Navy Sea King Helicopter. It reinforced the saying I had heard before - helicopters are a bunch of spare parts, in loose formation, notsomuch flying as beating the air into submission.
18 years old, the US Navy flew me from Seattle to San Diego for boot camp. Because of a delayed enlistment program, I was the most senior recruit and got to be in charge of the 12 of us that day. One of the guys disappeared when we reached San Diego. I saw him a few weeks later, he got scared and hid in the airport for 2 days till he was found.
