when i was younger, i went with my mom and my sisters to the airport to pick up an elderly lady in need of assistance, distantly related to a friend of the family. we were supposed to wait with her for her next flight at jfk. it was one of those misty cloudy days, where the grey stayed but it never really rained. i remember sitting in the waiting area by the window, entertaining each her and each other with silly little kid games. i remember how she suddenly came to life as she tried to tell us that knorr soup was from her country (whatever country that was). and then something happened that caused my life to change - again. the windows started to shake, the ground began to seemingly tremble - a grumbling sound started to grow louder and even louder, and the windows shook more violently. the entire waiting area seemed to quiet down and we all looked out the window to see what was happening. and then, i saw it. a slender white shape cutting the fog over the runway, leaning back, and then as surreal as it had appeared, it slowly vanished into the clouds... mist sliding effortlessly off of the wings. i don't think i even blinked... if it were anatomically possible, my jaw would have hit the floor. if that was not convincing enough to cause love at first sight (in my case it was), no more than a few minutes later, the partner in crime -this time dressed in british airways attire- mimicked this disappearing act. i can't tell you exactly what made me say, "billy you should do this now" or even how this entire trip ended up being what it is, but believe me when i tell you it is a dream taking form, or more accurately, taking flight.

having no better way to begin my tale, i will start from the beginning; wednesday night i was a little jittery with excitement. it seemed to multiply with each passing moment to the point of barely being able to sleep. i mean, part of me was nervous and everything, and the other part of me was excited because i was actually going to live out a dream. waking up on thursday morning was easy - i nearly jumped out of bed, into the shower, and into my clothes - a white shirt under a red v-neck sweater; my official swiss outfit. despite the fact that it was still early in the morning, it was obvious that the day was going to be one of those foggy, overcast, grey days that really reminded me of my initial memories of concordes -merely folk lore up until this point. as usual, my mother was running late so i was extremely worried when we finally hailed a cab headed for the airport. at six in the morning there isn't much traffic, but still this is my life and i was already envisioning missing the flight. we arrived at the airport almost twenty minutes later (thank goodness). the sky was that deep shade of blue that indicates that you are up before the sun. the fog added to the ambiance, obscuring all but one plane from view. i know it sounds crazy, but i swear to you, the airport was all but deserted. we entered the terminal tripping over my mothers bags and packages, huffing and puffing our way up to the counter with tickets and passports in hand. lots of words were exchanged by my mother and i, both out of breath and a little too excited to listen to the lady at the counter reassuring us that we had plenty of time. from the ticket counter we passed through the usual drama of metal detectors and what not, and then it was on to the "lounge". behind frosted glass doors champagne pours for those waiting for their flight. they took our coats and packages so that we could enjoy this atmosphere without being burdoned. i didn't know that everything i gave them was being put on the plane until later, but then i didn't want to seem like a first timer. i sat humbly at an art deco wooden table drinking evian and nibbling on a chocolate croissant. meanwhile my mother downed mimosas and other goodies that are supposed to be reserved for the jet setters. whatever is whatever i figured, glancing at pictures ranging from yves saint laurant to louie armstrong on the wall - all posing before their VIP flight. after a while i felt that i shouldn't feel like a tourist - how often does this happen after all? slowly but surely, my camera slid out of it's carrying case. after a few quick clicks, we were ready to board flight 001 - air france concorde flight to paris charles de gaulle. all the french lessons in the world couldn't help me pronounce that correctly, but i still tried. we walked with beaming smiles on to the plane, past the agents and other random people welcoming us with good days and bon jours. and then i was on board - even the air smelled different.

it was like being in one of those space movies or something -you just feel different. people were everywhere to greet us, i just couldn't help feeling like a celebrity. as fate would have it, the seat across from my mother was occupied by diane von furstenburg (i hope i spelled her name right). she was tearing through lots of magazines that she managed to bring aboard in her oversized hermes gardening bag. my mom started a conversation with her as i gazed out the window; thoroughly examining a world that i might be leaving behind. in my mind, if i had to go - i was going out the right way. i was going out in style. i have to say that there are people that i would have liked to have met before the end of my time on this planet, and other things that i would like to do, but i figured if i was lucky enough to make it off the ground that day, some how some way, i would make it. like frank sinatra’s words in new york, new york, "if i can make it there, i’ll make it anywhere..."

despite plenty of comments that i had heard from others, concordes are in fact very comfortable. it is certainly not noisier than a regular plane (at least rom the inside). if anything, i would say that it was extremely quiet while we made our way to the runway. as the fog lifted, we were cleared for takeoff. the other planes that were out seemed to stop in awe -anticipating the thunderous liftoff comparable to the spaceshuttle. and then it happened; the engines seemed to come to life and the shapes out side my window began to blur. i was pushed back into my seat as if i were in a race car, or more accurately, a rocket. within seconds we were off, above the ground, through the mist and the low lying clouds that exist in the early morning hours; into the great wide open. oh wow escaped from my mouth as we powered into the blue sky at an angle that made me feel as though my seat were reclined. i'm not sure whether it was the water, the excitement, or me being nervous, but i had to go to the bathroom badly as we made our way above the atlantic ocean. the speedometer indicated that we were closing in on the sound barrier, but i just couldn't hold it any more. finally i bounced out of my chair and headed to the rest room. as i did this, the pilot announced in a juvial voice, "afterburners on!" maybe i was on cloud nine, more likely cloud ten, but whatever cloud i was over, or on, or in, there was no stopping the grin on my face. i finally relaxed, let loose, and acted like a touristy american, taking pictures of everything from the seats to the windows, to the curvature of the earth... and if you will believe it, i even got to go inside the cockpit to take pictures. it was absolutely wonderful with a dash of that out of control feeling. too much fun, too little time. shortly before we landed, they served up the champagne and caviar. i am not pretentious or anything like this, but i was feeling like the czar of russia and not mad at that at all.

after landing -softer than any landing that i have experienced to date, we were forced to leave the plane. it was so sad. in any case, we hustled and bustled off of the plane only to see a lady waiting for us once we got off. she ushered us down the stairs into a waiting car (we didn't even enter the airport). via this air france fiat, we were whisked away to the other side of the airport, through security checkpoints and customs almost as if we were diplomats.

it was so much fun passing everyone (although i have to say that i felt a little bad at times). from there we skipped the line to get on the connecting plane to geneva. seated in the front of first class, i wanted to hide from the eyes of the envious passengers who had to wait to board after us, but my mother seemed to love it; literally basking in the attention. we left paris, and the eifel tower behind as we climbed into the sky above mont blanc and the alps.