When Memories Take Flight

You’ve heard of repressed memories. What about a memory you can’t confirm and you wonder if your imagination made it up?

My earliest memory is of walking to kindergarten, the first day my mom didn’t walk me all the way. We lived in Mt. Pleasant, ON, and the school was a straight line down our road. No crossing busy streets or other hazards. I remember looking back every few steps to see that, yup, she really is going back home! Years later, Mom told me she bawled the whole way.

Like most kids, I was told stories about things that happened earlier than that. Apparently, I tried to murder my brother in his bassinet by popping a chestnut into his open mouth. But come on, did I really know it was attempted murder? I was a wee one myself. Good thing my mother was there to save him.

Beer Fueled Memories Came Later

I have a memory about a flight to Las Vegas in the early 80s. I vividly recall climbing a spiral staircase to a bar that I didn’t stay at very long. But I can’t remember who else was on the flight. No one else I know seems to share the memory. I wondered if it was a dream.

Then, in a book I’ve been reading, the author references a similar experience on one of these planes. (Andy Kaufman Revealed: His Best Friend Tells All by Bob Zmuda.) This was before 9/11 when you could sit in the cockpit if you asked. One one Vegas trip, the pilot invited me to stay up front for the landing. That’s how relaxed it was.

These massive 747s were built for transporting people and cargo. The flight deck was up top and when used for passengers, the aircraft had a huge open space. So, airlines got creative. The one I flew on (not sure which airline) let anyone upstairs to the bar. Others reserved that space for first class dining only. American Airlines employed a crooner at its piano bar upstairs. And on it went.

It’s All About Money, Honey

Passengers loved the lounges but the revenue just wasn’t there. Airlines made more money by adding first class seats and putting butts in them. Now, of course, if you’ve got the cash, you can reserve a sleeping pod with some airlines. But this was the 70’s and 80s. My visit to that lounge was the only time I forgot we were in a tin can in the sky.

Despite being a frequent researcher, it didn’t occur to me to look these planes up until now. I really wanted to know that I shared this experience with someone in my life. It’s possible I flew alone and met up with friends or family at the airport. We may never know.