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Champagne for this. Anyway, my brain wasn't too coddled to note that it was served with Chteau Duhart Milon Rothschild 1986 and Graham's Malvedos 1978. All the wine was in glass, not plastic. Times change. These were strange bedfellows indeed for pizza. Did I care?

Three hours into our magic carpet ride, the pilot advised us that if we looked out of the starboard windows we would see Greenland. Plane dips right as everyone lurches over to that side with their cameras. And on the port side you'll see icebergs.' More lurching. The icebergs were spectacular. They were, well...titanic. How much better could this flight get? There was no turbulence, no leaking hatches, no delay, no hassle of any sort. We could see other planes racing past beneath us at an apparent speed of 1200 miles an hour, intent on making landfall in Scotland or some other wet and dismal European destination. Suckers! You're going the wrong way!' We crossed from Canada to USA over Sault St. Marie and in no time were eyeball to eyeball with Skydeck people in the Hancock Tower. I was back!

It's just as well that we were using public transport to find our way into the city because I'm not sure if I could have coped with a hire car from O'Hare after all the alcohol and excitement. It was difficult enough two days later when we did exactly that on our way west. That little episode is known to us as the time when we took our Chevy to the levee'. It's a different story. This crossing of the North Atlantic reaffirmed my love of flying. Everything was simply perfect, even if Barbarella didn't get to sit on my knee.

Learn more about this author, Gordon Haynes.
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