A friend writes from Veracruz, Mexico:

Our airline had an accommodations contract with a multi-national hospitality corporation, so no matter where we landed, we had to spend the night, or day, in the same faceless place. This felt wrong. Concorde crews were supposed to belong to a different world. So my girlfriend Jilly and I turned an endless series of anonymous luxury fleabags into ground-bound Zeppelins.

Or trailers parked in trailer parks in Alabama.

Or mud-huts in a Masai Kraal in Tanzania.

Or the Harem Suite in some decadent millionaire’s mansion.

To make a long story short, we used our imaginations.

Jilly and I are still together. We’ve been on the ground for quite a while, and plan to keep it that way. We have nothing but happy memories.

***

Concorde hostess blues

Un’amica ci scrive da Veracruz, Messico:

La nostra linea aerea aveva un contratto con una multinazionale dell’ospitalità, quindi ovunque atterravamo, passavamo le notti, oppure i giorni, nello stesso anonimo posto. Sembrava sbagliato. Gli equipaggi Concorde dovevano appartenere a un altro mondo. Quindi la mia compagna Jilly e io trasformavamo l’infinita serie di stamberghe di lusso ma senza fascino in dei zeppelin legati alla terra ferma.