> You have to love the DC3, it will see it's centennial, still flying.
>

I first fell in love on a DC3.   I was traveling from LaGuardia to Ithaca 
alone by air.   The flight involved stops at Scranton, Binghamton, Elmira 
and finally Ithaca.   At each stop there was a change of stewardess, and 
each one wrote a little letter about me to pass on to the next one, telling 
of my interests and of the conversation we had just been having.   After 
their cabin duties were finished, they each sat with me and allowed me to 
enter the adult world of traveler's conversation.   They were all stunningly 
beautiful, to my eight year old eyes, and I had never known such wonderful 
personal attention combined with adult conversation and respect before.   I 
fell head over heals for the last one, with beautiful soft fluffy blond 
hair, as the endless flight from Elmira to Ithaca wound its way between and 
around giant colourful late afternoon cumulus clouds that looked like 
Michelangelo's version of Heaven.   With her hair on one side of me and the 
similarly coloured clouds on the other, that DC3 flight was paradise.

Memories are like restoration.   Even though they allow some semblance of 
the original experience to remain alive, they are inevitably detached from 
the complete environment of the original environment and must live amidst a 
shifted paradigm.    Stewardesses today are just not as pretty and personal 
as those on the DC3.

cp still flying high in bc 

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