The Free World


Back in December of 1981 I showed up late at JFK for a Pan-Am flight to Boston.

“No worries.” The young clerk picked up the phone. “The plane is still on the tarmac. We’ll drive you out to it.”

“Really?” I couldn’t believe my good luck.

“We aim to serve.”

I followed him out of the terminal. Snow was melting on the ground and the sky was a winter blue.

Air France’s Concorde was across the runway.

There wasn’t a guard or cop in sight and I said to the clerk, “What if we hijack that to Paris?”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” He blew into his hands. “It’s already going to Paris. I would want to go to Miami.”

“Not a bad idea.”

A Pan-Am car rolled up to the gate and took me out to the waiting prop plane.

The ground crew shut the door and I sat in my seat.

It was great living in the Free World.

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