Idon’t remember ever being excited to fly. But, having a Canadian dad from the distant Rocky Mountains of Alberta, I did it a lot. Like many frequent flyers, my life was filled with countless, listlessly sticky airtime hours. Packed into a dowdy gray cabin, we ate equally gray food served by fuddy-duddy folk in polyester slacks and ill-fitting waistcoats. I dreaded every anodyne minute of it. How could international aviation – that miracle of the modern age – be quite so bland? In just half a century, commercial jet travel sank from glamorous adventure to mundane chore… Read more >
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