Two tickets to paradise but still close to home

When I told my wife that I’d scored two tickets to paradise she instinctively knew there had to be more to the story.

“Two tickets to paradise…,” Kristin mumbled, slightly cocking her head to freeze dramatically in in the middle of an eye roll. “I’m guessing this means we are about to go on a tandem bike ride that will somehow include Paradise Road on our course.”

“Ha! Nice try!” I said. “However, this adventure is much more sophisticated that a simple bike ride.”

“Sophisticated?” she said. “You obviously mean ‘technologically sophisticated’ rather than ‘high society’ sophisticated, right?”

It was easy to understand where she was coming from. I mean, my level of social sophistication tops out at Grey Poupon, Swiss cheese and fancy crackers.

“What would you say if I told you I was about to take away you on the airliner that set the standard for luxury air travel?” I said.

“Wait a minute!” she said. “You’re about to fly me to Europe on the Concorde?”

“The Concorde?” I said. “Well that was my first choice, but it turns out that that particular plane has been retired for nearly 20 years. Furthermore, Europe is sweltering hot this time of year and in my estimation, grossly overrated.”

“But you said the plane ‘set the standard.’”

“Indeed I did, but if you had let me finish, you would have learned that there actually was no standard before the plane in which we’ll flying. The Ford Tri-Motor was literally the first airliner—built in 1929!”

“Oh no,” she said. “You bought me a ticket on a 94-year-old airplane? Is this some sort of joke?”

“Well, there are two questions there,” I said. “And the answers are ‘no’ and ‘no.’ No, this is definitely not a joke; and no, I didn’t buy the tickets — they were given to me. What we have here is the ultimate dream — free first-class tickets in a decidedly coach-class life!”

And so it was that I delivered the two of us to the Wayne County Airport on a Thursday afternoon where we embarked on a low-altitude, “high society” journey across several crop-covered townships, a small city, two separate high school football stadiums, one sleepy village and a pair of “shockingly” complex corn mazes. Cows and sheep marveled at our passing. Trotting horses seemed to outpace us as they looped the dusty oval at the fairgrounds. Small children waved and we waved back, and the magic of flight was reaffirmed for all.

Our craft, The City of Port Clinton, was as pristine a beauty as the day of her rollout near the close of The Roaring 20’s. Powered flight in the days prior to that had been the realm of the daredevil and the dreamer. Henry Ford had set out to stake a claim in the skies with his reliable, smooth and safe Tri-Motor. His hope was to do for the airplane what the Model T had done for the automobile. The economics of the Great Depression grounded that idea in a hurry after just 199 of the planes had been built. For comparison’s sake the Model T ended its production run after 15 million had been sold.

As for the “trip to paradise” I suppose it depends on your definition, but I feel like a slow glide over the lush summertime landscape of Wayne County meets the mark. (It’s possible that Kristin thinks otherwise.)

Kristin and John would love to hear from you. Write: Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627 or email John at jlorson@alonovus.com.