The year was 1966. April, 1966...... M. was pregnant and due this month, so said the gods at Long Island Jewish Hospital. I was called into the personnel office to be interviewed for a new job. In the meeting was the VP of Operations for North America. I was briefed on the subject of SAS being granted the landing rights into Seattle, WA. and would this be of interest to me. The job was said to be one that could eventually lead to bigger and better jobs. My reply was simple, could I talk this over with my wife and I promised to get back with my reply within 2 days. As I left the building on my way back to JFK, thoughts ran rapid through my brain, how would I tell my parents, that I was picking up their only grandchild, even though not born yet, and moving 3000 miles to the other side of the country. More importantly, will M. want to go? I called Margot from the airport and told her what the meeting was about and I could immediately hear in her voice........YES!!!!!. BUT LET ME do some research on the city. That evening we talked about it at length and we both decided that this could possibly be very good for us. By that time Margot had done some checking and had found that Seattle was a small city of less than a million people located on the shores of Puget Sound, a warm water inlet fed by the Japanese current. WHAAA? OH YAH, I remember being there for the worlds fair in 1962. Well, without waiting the 2 days I had promised, the very next day I told the VP I was interested. Only one more thing to do......there were several other applicants and they had to check all of them out. The following week, I was brought back into the Queens Bldg head office and advised that I had been selected. I should make all the arrangements for the move and since SAS was paying for the total move, I was to coordinate this with the Manager of Personnel. My date that I was to be in Seattle was just given as July 1966 and we had to more or less be up and running for the inaugural flight on Sept 2,1966.
Well, Lisa arrived in April, as planned. A beautiful little bundle, so dependent on whatever decisions we made, ( that, by the way, changed a few years later......another story, another day). Margot and I started planning for our move and tried to include my parents as much as possible, so they didn't feel that they were totally being pushed out of our lives....that in itself was one big chore. My parents, especially my mother, understood the importance it meant to our lives but....but...but her granddaughter, how would she take it. Mom, the kid is 2 months old, she sleeps, eats, and leaves the remains in a piece of cloth wrapped around her bottom. She'll never know, until it's to late. At any rate, Margot and I agreed that since we would have no place to live, it was best for her and Lisa to go to Sweden, when I left and I would contact them and arrange transportation to Seattle, when I had picked out a house. SSSOOOOO....In July, the two of them were off to Sweden and I was off to Seattle. That year saw a tremendous strike including about 7 airlines and my trip to Seattle was quite interesting. I remember having to fly to Montreal, Canada, getting permission from Lufthansa German Airlines and the Canadian Government to board a flight destined for San Francisco, CA. reason being that Lufthansa had no traffic rights to board passengers in Canada to fly to the United States. Under the circumstances, permission granted. In San Francisco I transferred over to Western Airlines, one of the few carriers not on strike. Finally, Seattle was in my sites.
Arriving Seattle was indeed culture shock coming form the Big Apple. The terminal was so small .....home to only 7 airlines..........the airport police all dressed like "Smokey the Bear" guys with boy scout hats, parking was limited to any car that could park outside the front doors of the main terminal, including not only passengers but employees, which on one hand was good for me, since I hated to walk but on the other hand bad for the passengers with a lot of baggage. There was a separate level for arrival and departures, as there is today, but in mini size. Two restaurants, a very expensive one (for those days) and a coffee shop. It did have an employees cafeteria, but I think the food was made in the coffee shop and sent downstairs to the employees restaurant, so it took some time to get hot food. Later they put in a grill etc so hot food could be made downstairs.
The first day in Seattle, I checked in with the airport authority to find out where the SAS ticket counter was going to be. I was shown the area and was happy to see it was at the end side of the building, first airline counter you would come to. Also found out from one of the Police officers, I became friendly with, that there was a minor shoot out with a person about a month before right at the sight of the ticket counter. OOHHH!!!! crap, do you think this guy will come back just for revenge?? I was assured by Officer Montana, a 6'6" black (politically correct for that year) guy built like a 380 lb. New York Giant lineman , that was not an option , that person will not come back. Wonder what he meant by that??
Several things I noticed the first weeks in Seattle. One....there was some kind of law....I think they called it the blue law, whereby you could not purchase any alcoholic beverages on the week-ends. This forced us to pool whatever money we had on Friday to run across the street from the airport and buy a couple of cases of beer. They also covered up the meat cases with white sheets and you could not buy fresh meat. So you either bought packaged cold cuts or only ate vegetables for the week end. Well, no big thing.........until Margot arrived, then we needed meat for her Swedish meatballs.
Two... I never heard a auto horn, which made me suspicious to the fact that either I was loosing my hearing or the people just were not able to locate the horns on the cars. As a matter of fact. I was reading a map one time sitting at the red light. The light actually turned green twice and the guy in back of me just kept sitting there. He did come over after that and tell me it was OK for me to go on green.........but in a very courteous way.............Now, if that was New York, I would have been wearing his hood ornament up my butt. To this day, horn blowing, is kept to.00001%. Either it's a young kid that doesn't know better or some old crazy, that just made a mistake. Those people usually keep waving to you for 2 minutes, it's their way of apologizing for waking you up. Have you ever noticed how they now have on the new cars a little raised picture of a horn on the steering wheel ? Is that used for braille????
Three, people were very layed back. In New York I would go into a barber shop for a haircut. It was a shop that played a lot of Spanish music, the barbers were trained to cut hair to that music, so I usually left with my new haircut within 6 minutes and the word cha cha cha cut out of my hair. Here, though, they sat me in a chair told me all about what they had for dinner the night before along with the weather forecast for the next 10 days and I left 30 minutes later and I didn't even have the words cha cha cha carved out of the side of my head.
Last but not least everyone, including the checkout girl at the local Safeway were always so polite. I would stop on the way home from work to pick up a quart of milk, I could actually leave the car running if I wanted, the people seemed so honest (of course I never did). These gals would keep me there to run down the list of all the sale items for the day and to check if I noticed that the tomatoes were ripe and if I had noticed the nice yellow shade of the banana's...........WHO CARES!!!!!! JUST let me pay and get out. Oh, those days changed some 10 years later......but seem to be coming back for some unknown reason. Now the lines are so long in the markets that I decided recently to open my pint of ice cream and start eating it while I was still in line. When I finally reached the check out, the ice cream was gone but the empty carton was still in my basket. The young lady asked where the ice cream was and after I explained that while the person in front of me was taking out a new mortgage on her house with her , I decided to eat the ice cream, I guess she didn't find that so funny. SSSSOOOO....... then I thought I would try something else. I told her that since my ice cream melted away to nothing while waiting that I did not think I had to pay for it. That, apparently she found funny since she laughed and charged me $2.37.
There are so many things that were different from my east coast bringing up. Didn't people out here realize "time is money". We'll talk more about that.................later. Right now I have to make a right hand turn on a red light . Now, that's progress.
1/28/10
OF DAYS GONE BY.........................
I thought for a quick moment, that it would be fun just to send out some things from the past...... photo's .......video's of shows..........stuff like that. Just to break the mold every so ofter. Keep looking for more and see if you may recognize yourself.
1955-Senior Picnic-Jones Beach.........Funny story Teddy M. asked if she could change from shorts to bathing suit in my car, accidently left shorts in my car. When I discovered them I put them in the glovebox. My dad was looking for something next day and discovered them. I could not come up with any good reply to his question." who the hell left their underwear in your car"
1948 Cousin Ruth and Vito
1954- Holloween Party
Edie, Vito, Ellen, Doug, Brud
1955-Senior Picnic-Jones Beach.........Funny story Teddy M. asked if she could change from shorts to bathing suit in my car, accidently left shorts in my car. When I discovered them I put them in the glovebox. My dad was looking for something next day and discovered them. I could not come up with any good reply to his question." who the hell left their underwear in your car"
1954- Holloween Party
Brian
From the Johnny Carson Show (click below)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gRduPZvIm08&feature=player_embedded
Gin........the super dog (click below)
>http://www.familytiez.com/video/gin.htm
"Just 4" 1970- Margot, Vito, Scott, Lisa
visiting Margot's Parents in Sweden
I am a Nobody................ Nobody is Perfect...........................Therefore I am Perfect
The cool days of the 50's
Red, White & Blue pants
I thought this would lighten the load a little. Just something a little different for this posting. Hope you like it. I will be trying other things every so often just to keep up your interest in this blog. Have fun with the really good navigational sites included.
1/23/10
DEAR VITO........YOUR UNCLE SAM NEEDS YOU....
WOW!!!!!April 1957. A letter from Uncle Sam!!! I had now been on this new job for a year, rapidly climbing the corporate ladder. Now this!! The one letter that I knew would eventually come but hoping they lost the address. Well, I could wait until letter number 2 came or I could request to have my draft number pushed up, go in the Army and get this over with. What shall I do?? Better check with dad. After speaking with him, along with mom and some of my uncles, I decided to go in request to go earlier and get this over with.........Just as long as the draft board did not get the idea that I wanted to enlist for an extra year. Well I made that request and they heard my concern about going for only 2 years but I would still serve in the reserves when I got back home.
July 4th was my appointed day. Off to Lynbrook to the draft center, for my ride to Ft.Dix, New Jersey. Well, leading up to this day was interesting, all my uncles who served, along with my dad kept pumping information into my head. Never volunteer for any soft sounding jobs, always do exactly what I was told, don't screw up!!............ So many things to remember.
The first day was a routine day, shots, haircut (I asked for square back, slightly touching ears, lite trim.) guess they didn't hear me because when I got out of the barber chair, which only took 4 minutes, I was like a cue ball and just as white. It certainly showed off the tan I had. Next stop, clothes, not really a choice and size did not matter, double breasted? Nay, they all look that way they told me I would grow into them. Got my class "A" dress uniform, then sent me over to the tailor. Fatigues, jackets etc etc etc were one size fits all and the tailors did their best to shorten and hem the pants. The rest seemed a little big but like the man said, one tends to fill them out. By the time I left that building, I had one duffel bag filled to the brim with clothes and shoes. Next stop I picked up my dog tags. These are little metal tags you wear around your neck. I found out that the tags have a little niche in one end that is actually there for a reason. If you were to die, they simply put this edge between you front two teeth and kick it into place. This now identifies you.
Finally got to the barracks about 5PM enough time to be assigned a bunk throw your stuff on it and report for dinner. By this time you are so hungry, food even taste good. Still did not recognise what it was. Back to the barracks to try and put some order into this new life. Setting up my footlocker I needed a printed plan so that everything was in the correct space. Lights out at 9PM but you could still see but much to tired to do anything about it.
Day 2-Day 7
Awaken at 5AM by the sound of a large metal pipe hitting against an empty garbage can and some idiot already shaved, and dressed running around yelling and blowing some stupid whistle. GET A LIFE!!! even the roosters weren't up yet. These were perhaps the most demoralizing days of the eight weeks of basic training. POLITICAL CORRECTNESS was certainly not around these days. I was called everything from Pretty boy, im-bo-sill , mama's white baby to I-TAL-LI-ON WOP. I scrubbed the toilet bowl with a toothbrush, learned that real men started off walking with their left foot, that only girly men started a walk with their right foot. I presume that was for the benefit of our drill Sargent, who to me, had some mental limitations. It was an easy way for him to remember ........left....right....left during our marching drills. He also was unable to remember anyones name, so to him everyone was know by either your nationality or mamas boy. I learned that after having a cigarette, you had to "field strip" it. meaning to slit open the paper part of the cigarette with your nail, sprinkle out the remaining tobacco, if it was a filter tip, you learned how to put it into your pocket and save it until you came to a trash barrel. I learned how to smoke a long cigarette in 30 seconds. I learned that you SHOUT OUT your answers to the Sargent and you ended every sentence with SIR unless it was a Sargent then it was SARGENT. Don't talk soft otherwise you were a mama's boy little girl, that I totally did not understand, but as long as they were happy....so was I. The days were filled with trips to the Doctors for more shots and examinations, Dentist for examinations, filling out papers and more papers, learning how to make a proper bed with hospital corners and tight enough to bounce a quarter off of it. Setting up your foot locker with your serial number on everything from socks to underwear all facing exactly the same way. Here I also learned you never use these clothes, they were strictly for show, how to set up you wall unit so that every piece of clothing was lined up by size going from long to short all facing the same direction. I spent hours spit shining a pair of boots only to lean that I had to also spit shine the back end of the boot (heel) otherwise this alerted the inspecting Sargent that if that part was not shined it reflected that you never wiped yourself when going to the bathroom, another one of those things I never forgot especially when the Sargent had one of the recruits pull down his pants in front of everyone so he check that he indeed wiped himself. I learned that you always had to run from one place to another, no lolliputtin around. WOW!!!!
I was totally exhausted every night, even went to bed without supper occasionally, not because I wanted to but I just found myself dozing off at the wrong times.
Well, apparently, I mastered some of these things because as you can see from the picture, I was made a platoon corporal (honorary of course, not actual) guess this meant I was to mentor some of the really dumb guys, that could not master starting to walk with your left foot or that someone thought I would be the next "Stars and Stripes" model for the uniform. Anyway, the day finally arrived when a volunteer was sought after. I remembered what my dad and my uncles said about not volunteering but this sounded so good. The Sargent was looking for someone with a drivers license, I could only visualize driving the commander or such around BUT using my better judgement I just kept quiet. Later that day when out for on one of our usual 5 mile runs, we were taking a little breather and I happen to look over and see "the volunteers" next to their vehicles............large wheelbarrows loaded up with dirt.........they were driving them for one big hole to a equally big pile of dirt. Now the story goes that when the next class of recruits come in their volunteers will drive wheel barrels from the big pile of dirt back to fill up the hole. Just thought to myself, thanks dad. I will never volunteer. The next 4 weeks went on just about the first week. It was now a week before graduation and we were about to find out the results of all we have learned. What will my MOS be? (military occupational specialty) Well, mine was quiet good. I excelled in administration therefore, I became a clerk in administration at a headquarters company. I found out that my second 8 weeks would be in Arkansas......at an artillery unit.........WHAT??? ME????? ARTILLERY?
1/19/10
THE WEDDING
Well, M and I were in love, it was now decided that we would get married. When??? I don't know..... The question around the SAS building was WHAT??????? one female even accused M of stealing American guys.......well actually .........I think it went down as, " all you foreign girls come over to the states and steal our men" At least, that's the way I understood it. Planning this shin-dig was something else. M's parents and sisters were over in Sweden and it was my responsibility to visit them (per my mom and dad) and get their permission. M contacted them and told them she had met this ITALIAN GUY some time before and I guess it was also expressed on their part that they wanted to meet this ITALIAN GRINGO. Guess they were expecting to see some little short guy with a pencil mustache, and greasy hair wearing a pin strip suit and carrying a big club. Boy did I disappoint them. Anyway, the reception was very nice and the trip turned out well, even to the point that when I asked her mom and dad for her hand,(the old fashion way) I had nothing to put on her finger.......what a schlemiel.......They offered to take us to a store called NK's where we looked at rings but NK only accepted the store credit card or cash, or American Express. Long story short, I was offered the fathers credit card to buy the ring.....good part.......it was 18 carat gold iso the 14 carat sold in the states. I figured this was worth it but the father insisted I pay him back.
Flying back home, I thought it would be fun to propose again and have the navigator chart the exact spot over the Atlantic where I got down on my knees. We also got a bottle of champagne from the crew, that we reluctantly shared with some of the people around our seat area. Wonder where that map went??????
It was decided that my uncle and his band would play at the wedding, we had a friend we'll call Al from SAS who had done catering on board some Danish fishing boat before coming to SAS and we would hold the reception at a private home we could rent from the American Legion, who had it as a meeting place. We tried to keep costs very much into a budget. M agreed to get married in the Catholic Church that all my family were members of but of course M being non-catholic, had to meet the priest that was to perform the wedding. That did not go so well, especially since one of his questions, addressed to both of us but meant, in his eyes, to be directed to M. "have either of you been intimate with each other or anyone else" WWHHOOAA KIMBOSABY!!! what has that got to do with world peace??????????.....that didn't go so well with M and when she refused to answer, and I don't blame her, the priest simply stated that he was to try and stop this marriage unless M and I took other steps. ok! ok! ok! ok! so the other steps were taken. We were married outside the alter at the railing to the alter, and M had to say the words " I promise in front of these witnesses and God to love, honor and OBEY.... till death do us part"...or perhaps some time before,whichever comes first...... Well, we still have discussions some 44years later about the obey part. She needs practice on that subject.....or perhaps........just doesn't know what the word means.
Everything was going well, plans coming together like a Lego toy, until a week before the wedding. Al, decided that the cooking should be done at my parents house and the food frozen down. Al, after a day of work at the airport, would arrive at my parents house each night and he and my father would have a couple of shots of "three feathers" whiskey and polish off a quart of beer before Al even got next to the stove. Much to my mom's total surprise, there was no Italian food being prepared, only different types of fish including the salted herring in all kinds of sauces. Al conceded a little to my mom wanting some Italian food so she brought out her recipe book. Our house turned into an Italian bakery during the day, and a Scandinavian smorgasbord at night OMG!!! what was this wedding turning out to be. Finally, the big day arrived. M's mother and father arrived from Stockholm a few days before and the night before the wedding her father took ill and had to be rushed to the hospital. Guess, he finally came to the reality that his daughter was getting involved with an ITALIAN FAMILY. Anyway, he had a slight heart problem so my father was thrusted into the job of giving M away, He LOVED THAT big time. Meanwhile, Al and a waitress he met at some local bar were over at the house where the reception was being held laying out food and drink. The church part went along smooth and all the Swedish brides maids along with the American and Italian ushers were getting along famously. After the church ceremony it was decided that before the reception, the whole wedding party along with M's mom would go to the hospital to let M's dad enjoy this day to see how great his daughter looked. This event was really funny as all the wedding party had to walk through the maternity ward to get to M's dads room. Of course, the biggest comment along that route as "JUST IN TIME, WE DID IT JUST IN TIME"
It was well worth that little detour just to see the happiness on Bengts face.
When we finally reached the reception, the crowd was there, about 100 Italian or American guests along with M's side of about 50 Swedish girls, looking like a Swedish version of the Radio City Rochette's. All my Italian uncles were in 7th heaven, and their wives sat there with pads and pencils taking notes, if necessary to provide later at divorce court. The usual first dance, second dance, bride dance with the grooms father, grooms dance with the brides mother, group dance,Tarantella dance, Swedish May Day pole dance and what ever all those dances were called led to the throwing of the brides garter, which I completed without a hitch. Then came the toast. My best man was to toast us with a small speech, I was then to look into the eyes of my new bride, click glasses and kiss. Well, everything was going along as planned. The photographer was poised for that memorable photo. However, Just as the toast speech was finished, I looked at M and suddenly Al, the caterer who was standing in back of me, reached out, grabbed my glass and ended up clicking the glass with M and getting the kiss.........WHA JUST HAPPEN!!! WHERE THE HELL DID HE COME FROM????. the picture was so good and real, we kept it in our album.
As the evening progress, the usual ......."March for the favor".......began. This is where the bride and groom, seated at the head table bring out "the Pillow case" all the people line up ........with their envelopes of offering......march past the lovely couple, drop into the pillow case their offering for a futile and happy life, collect their little "favor" ours was a tiny vase, with 3 white almonds wrapped in Italian lace and return to their assigned tables. At Italian weddings, the tables are usually assigned since some people get along better than others. This was the part of the evening where my uncles and aunts all walked as couples. My uncles still discussing "why all the fish stuff" my aunts dressed to the gills, all with corsages and mink or whatever stoles. In fact one of my aunts mink wrap was so new I swore I heard it MMEEOOOWWW, when she walked past. Just DROP THE MONEY IN THE BUCKET. Al was superbly dressed in his chefs uniform helping everyone pick and choose from the GIANT GIANT Smorgasbord table and his young waitress serving wine, whiskey and good wishes. I'm not exactly sure but I heard from my mom that sometime during the evening, the doorbell rang and my mom went to answer the door. One of our guests who just arrived that day from Denmark had been driving around looking for the reception, finally found it simply by the amount of the cars filling the street. As my mom greeted him and took his overcoat to put in the closet she was startled my Al,and the waitress hidden amongst the coats toasting each other. I had to tell her that it was a Danish tradition. The evening progressed where my uncles, all at least a head shorter than the Swedish girls were giving dance instructions to them. Finally!!!!, they were learning the Tarantella, Copacabana cha cha, Cuban rumsamba and the Mexican crossing the Rio Grande hat dance. To the day they died my uncles always asked about those gals each time we visited them.
Flying back home, I thought it would be fun to propose again and have the navigator chart the exact spot over the Atlantic where I got down on my knees. We also got a bottle of champagne from the crew, that we reluctantly shared with some of the people around our seat area. Wonder where that map went??????
It was decided that my uncle and his band would play at the wedding, we had a friend we'll call Al from SAS who had done catering on board some Danish fishing boat before coming to SAS and we would hold the reception at a private home we could rent from the American Legion, who had it as a meeting place. We tried to keep costs very much into a budget. M agreed to get married in the Catholic Church that all my family were members of but of course M being non-catholic, had to meet the priest that was to perform the wedding. That did not go so well, especially since one of his questions, addressed to both of us but meant, in his eyes, to be directed to M. "have either of you been intimate with each other or anyone else" WWHHOOAA KIMBOSABY!!! what has that got to do with world peace??????????.....that didn't go so well with M and when she refused to answer, and I don't blame her, the priest simply stated that he was to try and stop this marriage unless M and I took other steps. ok! ok! ok! ok! so the other steps were taken. We were married outside the alter at the railing to the alter, and M had to say the words " I promise in front of these witnesses and God to love, honor and OBEY.... till death do us part"...or perhaps some time before,whichever comes first...... Well, we still have discussions some 44years later about the obey part. She needs practice on that subject.....or perhaps........just doesn't know what the word means.
Everything was going well, plans coming together like a Lego toy, until a week before the wedding. Al, decided that the cooking should be done at my parents house and the food frozen down. Al, after a day of work at the airport, would arrive at my parents house each night and he and my father would have a couple of shots of "three feathers" whiskey and polish off a quart of beer before Al even got next to the stove. Much to my mom's total surprise, there was no Italian food being prepared, only different types of fish including the salted herring in all kinds of sauces. Al conceded a little to my mom wanting some Italian food so she brought out her recipe book. Our house turned into an Italian bakery during the day, and a Scandinavian smorgasbord at night OMG!!! what was this wedding turning out to be. Finally, the big day arrived. M's mother and father arrived from Stockholm a few days before and the night before the wedding her father took ill and had to be rushed to the hospital. Guess, he finally came to the reality that his daughter was getting involved with an ITALIAN FAMILY. Anyway, he had a slight heart problem so my father was thrusted into the job of giving M away, He LOVED THAT big time. Meanwhile, Al and a waitress he met at some local bar were over at the house where the reception was being held laying out food and drink. The church part went along smooth and all the Swedish brides maids along with the American and Italian ushers were getting along famously. After the church ceremony it was decided that before the reception, the whole wedding party along with M's mom would go to the hospital to let M's dad enjoy this day to see how great his daughter looked. This event was really funny as all the wedding party had to walk through the maternity ward to get to M's dads room. Of course, the biggest comment along that route as "JUST IN TIME, WE DID IT JUST IN TIME"
It was well worth that little detour just to see the happiness on Bengts face.
When we finally reached the reception, the crowd was there, about 100 Italian or American guests along with M's side of about 50 Swedish girls, looking like a Swedish version of the Radio City Rochette's. All my Italian uncles were in 7th heaven, and their wives sat there with pads and pencils taking notes, if necessary to provide later at divorce court. The usual first dance, second dance, bride dance with the grooms father, grooms dance with the brides mother, group dance,Tarantella dance, Swedish May Day pole dance and what ever all those dances were called led to the throwing of the brides garter, which I completed without a hitch. Then came the toast. My best man was to toast us with a small speech, I was then to look into the eyes of my new bride, click glasses and kiss. Well, everything was going along as planned. The photographer was poised for that memorable photo. However, Just as the toast speech was finished, I looked at M and suddenly Al, the caterer who was standing in back of me, reached out, grabbed my glass and ended up clicking the glass with M and getting the kiss.........WHA JUST HAPPEN!!! WHERE THE HELL DID HE COME FROM????. the picture was so good and real, we kept it in our album.
As the evening progress, the usual ......."March for the favor".......began. This is where the bride and groom, seated at the head table bring out "the Pillow case" all the people line up ........with their envelopes of offering......march past the lovely couple, drop into the pillow case their offering for a futile and happy life, collect their little "favor" ours was a tiny vase, with 3 white almonds wrapped in Italian lace and return to their assigned tables. At Italian weddings, the tables are usually assigned since some people get along better than others. This was the part of the evening where my uncles and aunts all walked as couples. My uncles still discussing "why all the fish stuff" my aunts dressed to the gills, all with corsages and mink or whatever stoles. In fact one of my aunts mink wrap was so new I swore I heard it MMEEOOOWWW, when she walked past. Just DROP THE MONEY IN THE BUCKET. Al was superbly dressed in his chefs uniform helping everyone pick and choose from the GIANT GIANT Smorgasbord table and his young waitress serving wine, whiskey and good wishes. I'm not exactly sure but I heard from my mom that sometime during the evening, the doorbell rang and my mom went to answer the door. One of our guests who just arrived that day from Denmark had been driving around looking for the reception, finally found it simply by the amount of the cars filling the street. As my mom greeted him and took his overcoat to put in the closet she was startled my Al,and the waitress hidden amongst the coats toasting each other. I had to tell her that it was a Danish tradition. The evening progressed where my uncles, all at least a head shorter than the Swedish girls were giving dance instructions to them. Finally!!!!, they were learning the Tarantella, Copacabana cha cha, Cuban rumsamba and the Mexican crossing the Rio Grande hat dance. To the day they died my uncles always asked about those gals each time we visited them.
1/18/10
THE COURTSHIP TO THE WEDDING............
There is nothing more that can be added to the title of this chapter. I was now 29 years old, still living at home, working,and dating as much as I could. However, there just was something missing.........oh ! I know,.....a wife. Once upon a time, I met this Swedish girl. Nice looking, smart, easy to talk to but untouchable since she had a French boyfriend, at least that's the information I had gotten from some of my friends. I had transferred from Indoor sales at SAS to the passenger service department at JFK. I kept in touch with my good friends and supervisors at head office and would often call or visit them. One day, I noticed something new sitting in my seat of the reservation department. A sweet looking blue eyed, blonde with a touch of a Swedish accent. OH MY!!! I immediately had to know where the other 10 people were that was hired to take my place and more so, what they knew about this young lady. That's when I learned of the French Pierre. I was advised to stay away from her, even to the point that my ex dept supervisor told me that she would never go out with the likes of me. Come again??? now that phrase made me more determined to act. I tried some idle talking with her and she seemed receptive to conversation but put the brakes on for any more conversation than that. Maybe, just maybe my friends were right. So I decided to leave well enough alone (for the time being).
One night I had to call reservations to get some information regarding the booking for one of the outgoing passengers. Low and behold, who did I get on the line. You guessed it. After I got the information I was looking for, I reminded this young lady that this was St. Patricks Day and the tradition was to go out and drink green beer. After several minutes I convinced her to take a chance, meet me after work and we would have some green beer. She told me that she got off work at 11 PM and I could meet her at the front door of the building, not knowing I still had a key to that door. I was there at 10:30 just to make sure I did not miss this chance.
We ended up across the street from the head office and as promised had our green beer. The conversation was very warm as we told each other as much as anyone would say on a "first date" even though we agreed it was not a date. That night ended by me driving her to her apartment in Manhattan, getting a nice thank you and a hand shake at her door to the apartment house (not even at her apartment). On the way back home to Long Island I kept thinking of my next move.
Some weeks later, after calls to her at work, I was about to leave on a round the world trip with 3 of my friends from that office, another guy and 2 gals, I learned that "M" had broken up with her boyfriend, but I never let on that we were out together. I Sent postcards to her and ended each one with "Hope to see you on my return" On my return, the dating began to get more consistent, the telephone calls more frequent. I remember bringing her to my home one night for dinner with my parents. My mother notice that she had the beginnings of a cold and at that point "M" was told that she was to stay at our house in our spare room and my mom would nurse her back to health. One thing you never do in an Italian family and that's to go against the wishes of mama. There she stayed for 3 days with mama keeping tabs on me and taking care of "M". As the weeks and months went by, the dating became almost a daily thing even to the point that I could feel that my parents were calculating the time for me to be moving out-----finally now that I was 28 years old.
During this period of dating, M and I decided to take a short week-end trip to Puerto Rico to get some sun. Well, being a good Catholic boy, I simply could not come to terms to tell my parents,.....so.....as far as they knew, I was going down alone but M would pick me up at the airport on my return and bring me home. The weekend was terrific, sun, sand and beach......me with a beautiful tan .......M like a little lobster. Arriving back home though was something else. I remember my moms first words,,,,, "you look so good with that tan, Vito" " you know M, Vito was in Puerto Rico" " why are you so red, dear, do you have a rash" WHAAAAA????? could mom be that naive?
Now, I know in the eyes of my mom, I was HUNK of the year......she was constantly trying to get me to date daughters of her friends. I did once. The girl was nice and had the largest breasts one could imagine in those days. One night I decided to ask her to come down to the bowling alley, the SAS bowling club used. When she walked in half of the club just followed her like they would their bowling ball just before it hit the pins. When she walked over to me, I immediately became the hit and the envy of all the guys. They all came over to compliment me on picking up a 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,0 spare( even though I carried an average of 225) just to get a closer look at her purple cashmere sweater. The only thing going against this gal was her family was only bidding 3 chickens, 2 ducks and 1 sheep of her dowry for my last name.
Another time, while working at JFK, I checked in a nice gal from Tombstone, Arizona. We talked and she invited me to visit her someday, since I was so interested in Tombstone and the famous shootout at OK corral. A month later I had heard from her and I made the trip out for a week-end. Now, in all honesty, this was totally platonic, She and I visited all the sightseeing things, had pictures taken with the town's sheriff and Miss Kitty, the saloon owner etc, etc, etc. I stayed ALONE at the hotel, the only thing is I was afraid to tell M about it since, at that point,.....We were only dating......but things were going well between us, so I told her I had to work a charter flight in Chicago......dumb mistake!..... M who had a friend that worked AA airlines reservations were talking and my name came up in the conversation. M told her girl friend that I was working a flight in Chicago and her friend offered to find out flight arrival time since M was picking me up at the airport. Well, I guess it came as a surprise, how well American Airlines Sabre reservation system was so advanced to be able to track me ......not to Chicago........but to Tuscon......even to my hotel room......where I confirmed my booking from. Needless to say, the day I arrived back to JFK, M was there to meet me and asked how the charter went wwwhhhhyyyy do you ask in that tone.......honey? She indeed told me why!!!!!!! what promises I had to make. WE WERE ONLY DATING!!!!!!!
One night I had to call reservations to get some information regarding the booking for one of the outgoing passengers. Low and behold, who did I get on the line. You guessed it. After I got the information I was looking for, I reminded this young lady that this was St. Patricks Day and the tradition was to go out and drink green beer. After several minutes I convinced her to take a chance, meet me after work and we would have some green beer. She told me that she got off work at 11 PM and I could meet her at the front door of the building, not knowing I still had a key to that door. I was there at 10:30 just to make sure I did not miss this chance.
We ended up across the street from the head office and as promised had our green beer. The conversation was very warm as we told each other as much as anyone would say on a "first date" even though we agreed it was not a date. That night ended by me driving her to her apartment in Manhattan, getting a nice thank you and a hand shake at her door to the apartment house (not even at her apartment). On the way back home to Long Island I kept thinking of my next move.
Some weeks later, after calls to her at work, I was about to leave on a round the world trip with 3 of my friends from that office, another guy and 2 gals, I learned that "M" had broken up with her boyfriend, but I never let on that we were out together. I Sent postcards to her and ended each one with "Hope to see you on my return" On my return, the dating began to get more consistent, the telephone calls more frequent. I remember bringing her to my home one night for dinner with my parents. My mother notice that she had the beginnings of a cold and at that point "M" was told that she was to stay at our house in our spare room and my mom would nurse her back to health. One thing you never do in an Italian family and that's to go against the wishes of mama. There she stayed for 3 days with mama keeping tabs on me and taking care of "M". As the weeks and months went by, the dating became almost a daily thing even to the point that I could feel that my parents were calculating the time for me to be moving out-----finally now that I was 28 years old.
During this period of dating, M and I decided to take a short week-end trip to Puerto Rico to get some sun. Well, being a good Catholic boy, I simply could not come to terms to tell my parents,.....so.....as far as they knew, I was going down alone but M would pick me up at the airport on my return and bring me home. The weekend was terrific, sun, sand and beach......me with a beautiful tan .......M like a little lobster. Arriving back home though was something else. I remember my moms first words,,,,, "you look so good with that tan, Vito" " you know M, Vito was in Puerto Rico" " why are you so red, dear, do you have a rash" WHAAAAA????? could mom be that naive?
Now, I know in the eyes of my mom, I was HUNK of the year......she was constantly trying to get me to date daughters of her friends. I did once. The girl was nice and had the largest breasts one could imagine in those days. One night I decided to ask her to come down to the bowling alley, the SAS bowling club used. When she walked in half of the club just followed her like they would their bowling ball just before it hit the pins. When she walked over to me, I immediately became the hit and the envy of all the guys. They all came over to compliment me on picking up a 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,0 spare( even though I carried an average of 225) just to get a closer look at her purple cashmere sweater. The only thing going against this gal was her family was only bidding 3 chickens, 2 ducks and 1 sheep of her dowry for my last name.
Another time, while working at JFK, I checked in a nice gal from Tombstone, Arizona. We talked and she invited me to visit her someday, since I was so interested in Tombstone and the famous shootout at OK corral. A month later I had heard from her and I made the trip out for a week-end. Now, in all honesty, this was totally platonic, She and I visited all the sightseeing things, had pictures taken with the town's sheriff and Miss Kitty, the saloon owner etc, etc, etc. I stayed ALONE at the hotel, the only thing is I was afraid to tell M about it since, at that point,.....We were only dating......but things were going well between us, so I told her I had to work a charter flight in Chicago......dumb mistake!..... M who had a friend that worked AA airlines reservations were talking and my name came up in the conversation. M told her girl friend that I was working a flight in Chicago and her friend offered to find out flight arrival time since M was picking me up at the airport. Well, I guess it came as a surprise, how well American Airlines Sabre reservation system was so advanced to be able to track me ......not to Chicago........but to Tuscon......even to my hotel room......where I confirmed my booking from. Needless to say, the day I arrived back to JFK, M was there to meet me and asked how the charter went wwwhhhhyyyy do you ask in that tone.......honey? She indeed told me why!!!!!!! what promises I had to make. WE WERE ONLY DATING!!!!!!!
1/16/10
WHO AM I................REALLY?
I have tried to put these posts into some kind of Chronological order but have been very unsuccessful at it. Well, there's a reason for that. You see, I lay in bed at night thinking of all these things and as I think about them, is how I write about them, so you now know the reason for the mixing up in the order. Besides, life has no particular order......so it's said. By whom??? I don't know.
I guess I had always had some kind of a sense of humor and being an extrovert it was easy for me to express myself in humorous dialogue. This funny bone started to really show during my SAS years and really took off towards the end of my career. I was asked by some friends to do little speeches at birthday party's, retirement party's, weddings, and luncheons. They primarily consisted of jokes but I learned how to relate to my family or other people's family's in a humorous way. I was always told by my parents that one should not be mean to another or talk down to them and that I do not do. I can actually hold a conversation that people believe is really true, but in reality is fiction. My grand kids are my greatest audience. I sit and talk with them about so many things, they will immediately turn to grandma and say "Grandma is that true" Only after grandma confirms the truthfulness will they continue to talk about that subject. If grandma shows any signs that I am exaggerating they loose interest.
One thing I have found is that you cannot laugh at anyone until you are able to laugh at yourself, guess that's why so many of my screw ups in life are so damn funny. My secret is to take a joke and replace all the names with names of people I know even if it means my own family. On the other hand, my family has been able to keep me in stories to last well beyond my time on earth. Some say that telling stories about my dead relatives is evil. Evil to who? they don't know about it. Now, when I am asked to do a speech for example at a party for someone turning 60, I just remember a joke and replace names with the name of the person having the party. A very pretty Italian lady with a very nice figure for her age recently turned 60 and I was asked to give a little roast. The story went like this.
"I remember Pia when she was 30 and here I am once again. Seems like she only wants to see me every 10 years. When she was thirty, she always wore tight sweaters and mini shirts, well as you can see she no longer wears tight sweater and mini skirts, now its just a baggy sweatshirt and a long skirt,...now I don't want to say that her breast started to fall but.........seems that her nipples started to show...........she is the only lady I know that can have a mammogram and a pedicure at the same time." " Pia, also loved to go for mud packs to make her skin really shine, well, the last mud pack was 2 days ago and she looked really good, today the mud started to fall off." Pia recently discovered that wrinkles were beginning to appear in her face and neck so off to a plastic surgeon she goes. She sat down for her free 1 hour diagnosis and the surgeon prepared her for hearing the worst. Pia your getting old and with age come wrinkles, however through research, a new procedure was discover and we can perform an operation that can take care of most wrinkles. I can insert a knob in the top of your head and you can cover it with your natural hair if you wear a bun around it. Every time you see some wrinkles starting to show, just turn this knob one quarter of a turn clockwise and the wrinkle will disappear. Well, Pia goes home and with each sign of a wrinkle off came the bun and a one quarter turn pulled the skin up to a tighter position. The went on for 3 years until one day Pia finds herself at the doctors office. Doctor I have these bags under my eyes and I just can't get rid of them. What shall I do? Doctor looks at them and finally discovers the cause, telling Pia, I'm sorry those are not bags under your eyes, the tightening of the skin has simply pulled you boobs up further than expected........OH! , that explains the mustache!!!!!!! Good Night folks.
I guess I had always had some kind of a sense of humor and being an extrovert it was easy for me to express myself in humorous dialogue. This funny bone started to really show during my SAS years and really took off towards the end of my career. I was asked by some friends to do little speeches at birthday party's, retirement party's, weddings, and luncheons. They primarily consisted of jokes but I learned how to relate to my family or other people's family's in a humorous way. I was always told by my parents that one should not be mean to another or talk down to them and that I do not do. I can actually hold a conversation that people believe is really true, but in reality is fiction. My grand kids are my greatest audience. I sit and talk with them about so many things, they will immediately turn to grandma and say "Grandma is that true" Only after grandma confirms the truthfulness will they continue to talk about that subject. If grandma shows any signs that I am exaggerating they loose interest.
One thing I have found is that you cannot laugh at anyone until you are able to laugh at yourself, guess that's why so many of my screw ups in life are so damn funny. My secret is to take a joke and replace all the names with names of people I know even if it means my own family. On the other hand, my family has been able to keep me in stories to last well beyond my time on earth. Some say that telling stories about my dead relatives is evil. Evil to who? they don't know about it. Now, when I am asked to do a speech for example at a party for someone turning 60, I just remember a joke and replace names with the name of the person having the party. A very pretty Italian lady with a very nice figure for her age recently turned 60 and I was asked to give a little roast. The story went like this.
"I remember Pia when she was 30 and here I am once again. Seems like she only wants to see me every 10 years. When she was thirty, she always wore tight sweaters and mini shirts, well as you can see she no longer wears tight sweater and mini skirts, now its just a baggy sweatshirt and a long skirt,...now I don't want to say that her breast started to fall but.........seems that her nipples started to show...........she is the only lady I know that can have a mammogram and a pedicure at the same time." " Pia, also loved to go for mud packs to make her skin really shine, well, the last mud pack was 2 days ago and she looked really good, today the mud started to fall off." Pia recently discovered that wrinkles were beginning to appear in her face and neck so off to a plastic surgeon she goes. She sat down for her free 1 hour diagnosis and the surgeon prepared her for hearing the worst. Pia your getting old and with age come wrinkles, however through research, a new procedure was discover and we can perform an operation that can take care of most wrinkles. I can insert a knob in the top of your head and you can cover it with your natural hair if you wear a bun around it. Every time you see some wrinkles starting to show, just turn this knob one quarter of a turn clockwise and the wrinkle will disappear. Well, Pia goes home and with each sign of a wrinkle off came the bun and a one quarter turn pulled the skin up to a tighter position. The went on for 3 years until one day Pia finds herself at the doctors office. Doctor I have these bags under my eyes and I just can't get rid of them. What shall I do? Doctor looks at them and finally discovers the cause, telling Pia, I'm sorry those are not bags under your eyes, the tightening of the skin has simply pulled you boobs up further than expected........OH! , that explains the mustache!!!!!!! Good Night folks.
1/14/10
SAS..........THE BEGINNING YEARS
I must say, from the very start that my years at SAS were probably some of the happiest years I spent working. Having said that, I must also admit that if someone was to ask me how it was while I was going through that time, the answer would be a little different. All of the bad times, when looked at after some years, turned the corner and made them good times.
I was a young 19 year old when I was first introduced to SAS, by my next door neighbor, who worked in the accounting department. I was interviewed for a job and perhaps it was my Post Office experience that I had acquired in the months after high school that led to my being immediately hired as a mail boy. Who really cared what the job was, all I could think of in those days were beautiful Swedish girls with blonde hair and blue eyes and beautiful long legs. Stockholm, OOHH!!!! the city of free love.............wrong!!!!. Never the less, a head office job, where all of the big wigs hung out, I'm sure to get recognized for my talents there. "MAIL BOY?" said my father, "your giving up going to collage for that?" " but dad, The deal was, that if Princeton would not take me, it's off to work I go. I can always pick and choose college courses later and pick up some knowledge, besides I learned a lot in high school. What more is there to learn right now? " The mail room job turned out fantastically, During the time that bonuses were being paid out, I was extremely popular. I got all the information at least 1 day before personnel got it. You see, I was able to see the memo's coming down from the top dogs to personnel advising how much moola was being paid for each point employees earned. The point system was very easy to figure out. You earned points for years of service, sick leave not taken, job description, last evaluation, all information employees knew of themselves. All they needed now was dollar value per point. Mail boys had that info. There was nothing wrong with giving out this info. the memo's were not sealed and always delivered to personnel the same day as received, usually the last mail pick-up, so the employees would know either the next day or two. Now, also immediately next door to the mail room was the advertising stock room. All the latest items that were purchased to give out as advertising gimmicks. These were given to big accounts, travel agents etc. I still have a few. Here again, nothing dishonest, these items were there to be given out. One of the brightest moments was the Christmas party held in the Presidents office on the last day of work before the holiday. I still have on 8MM film this party, even to the point of having the Presidents chauffeur sitting with his feet up on the Presidents desk......what a hoot......
It wasn't long (about 6 months) that it became apparent my talents were found by the upper echelon. I was called into the managers office and told that personnel wanted to speak to me about a promotion. Funny, how this played out, it was also the end to my probation time and I also passed two other people that had been in the department longer. WOW!!! I sat down with the personnel manager and he explained two jobs I could go into. One was Cargo.......eeeehhhhh no thanks this 159 lb. body over a very lanky frame could not push boxes around a warehouse. Telephone Sales,......now we're talking.......or as they called it in those days, inside sales. Nowadays....reservations agent....what the hell, I knew the department from delivering mail to it, girls seemed nice and I was able to make friends with the manager and his assistant........SURE.....I'll give it a try. Turned out pretty nice. First week sent for training in the sales department training room, two doors away from the mail room, my old stomping ground. After that week, I was sent back up and began my new job. I had the have a supervisor, listen in on all my calls and every time I showed any sign of an error, she would signal me to put the caller on hold, we would discuss the situation and back I went to the customer. I never had any fear of talking to customers and covered my little errors with expertise about nothing. My peers turned out to be extremely nice and my popularity began to soar. During my years there, our department formed a softball team to play any and all other departments, held parties that started at 11 PM, since some people had to work shifts, started a happy hour club at the tavern across the street from head office, excelled in dart throwing and beer chugging and mastered the art of selling vacation trip beyond what the aircraft would hold. AAAHHHHH its OK they will take care of it at the airport. In fact, we did so well one year that they had to call in a staff from Copenhagen, just to offload foreign passengers and we in return sent a staff of agents to Copenhagen to do the same for returning US passengers. SayLaVi.
I made my first oversees trip within that first year......to....of course....Sweden just to see if all the rumors were true. Well, much to my surprise, the Swedish girls, I would have taken home to mom were very hard to meet and it wasn't long I found the only way to meet them was to be formally introduced to them. Guess, I had to pull something out of the hat. I remember going into the Stockholm city office and introducing myself to a agent as a colleague from America with the excuse of needing to list myself for a flight back home. She, wanting to know about New York, agreed to have a cup of coffee with me. Now, I had a friend that would introduce me to other friends. Way to Go!!!! I found out that she was also the daughter of the owner of SAAB MOTORS and would be coming over to New York to work for a short time and was bringing a girl friend over to work temporarily in the head office. Did I step in it or what??? It turned out that she was also one of Sweden's top rally car drivers, only one thing on the questionable list, she was a good 2",s taller than me, but who cares, I could easily get that with pads in my shoes.
That first trip, still remains in my mind. I will never forget it as it gave me an extra 16 days in Copenhagen. Of course at the time it was horrible, but then I keep remembering the good things. I was listed for the flight and placed on the standby list. Each day I went to the airport and stood by for the flight back to New York. Each day, it would end up the same way, no seats left for me. The bad part was that each day there were other employees trying to get back home to the states and I found that they were also being added to the ever increasing numbers of stand bys. We all tried with great difficulty to conserve money for hotels, we even moved in with each other or sneaked into someones room to sleep on a couch or in a chair since money was now becoming tight. Those lucky enough to be traveling on company business could go into the SAS office to draw on perdiem and would lend money to those that did not have any available. The list grew and on the 15th day, the now up to 60 standby passengers were once again told no room....but the bright side was near. The President of SAS, inc. now had convinced the higher echelon in Stockholm to put another flight on just for the standbys since 60 employees was probably 1/3 of all the North American employees at that time. That night I remember sleeping at a place called the Dixie bar, since rooms were now becoming overcrowded and everything seemed to go by seniority. I ordered one beer, sat down at a table, sipped my beer and finally my head just hit the table. Some people did not know if I was knocked out or just sleeping. It was about 6 am when my eyes opened and I could see familiar faces around the table all looking the same. Time for breakfast,(rest of the beer) and out to the airport.......again. The time with a different result, All 60 employees made it back on "SAS Party Flight 911A" It was so very nice to circle JFK. Always wondered if that was a payback compliments of the airport staff for overbooking so many flights.
I was a young 19 year old when I was first introduced to SAS, by my next door neighbor, who worked in the accounting department. I was interviewed for a job and perhaps it was my Post Office experience that I had acquired in the months after high school that led to my being immediately hired as a mail boy. Who really cared what the job was, all I could think of in those days were beautiful Swedish girls with blonde hair and blue eyes and beautiful long legs. Stockholm, OOHH!!!! the city of free love.............wrong!!!!. Never the less, a head office job, where all of the big wigs hung out, I'm sure to get recognized for my talents there. "MAIL BOY?" said my father, "your giving up going to collage for that?" " but dad, The deal was, that if Princeton would not take me, it's off to work I go. I can always pick and choose college courses later and pick up some knowledge, besides I learned a lot in high school. What more is there to learn right now? " The mail room job turned out fantastically, During the time that bonuses were being paid out, I was extremely popular. I got all the information at least 1 day before personnel got it. You see, I was able to see the memo's coming down from the top dogs to personnel advising how much moola was being paid for each point employees earned. The point system was very easy to figure out. You earned points for years of service, sick leave not taken, job description, last evaluation, all information employees knew of themselves. All they needed now was dollar value per point. Mail boys had that info. There was nothing wrong with giving out this info. the memo's were not sealed and always delivered to personnel the same day as received, usually the last mail pick-up, so the employees would know either the next day or two. Now, also immediately next door to the mail room was the advertising stock room. All the latest items that were purchased to give out as advertising gimmicks. These were given to big accounts, travel agents etc. I still have a few. Here again, nothing dishonest, these items were there to be given out. One of the brightest moments was the Christmas party held in the Presidents office on the last day of work before the holiday. I still have on 8MM film this party, even to the point of having the Presidents chauffeur sitting with his feet up on the Presidents desk......what a hoot......
It wasn't long (about 6 months) that it became apparent my talents were found by the upper echelon. I was called into the managers office and told that personnel wanted to speak to me about a promotion. Funny, how this played out, it was also the end to my probation time and I also passed two other people that had been in the department longer. WOW!!! I sat down with the personnel manager and he explained two jobs I could go into. One was Cargo.......eeeehhhhh no thanks this 159 lb. body over a very lanky frame could not push boxes around a warehouse. Telephone Sales,......now we're talking.......or as they called it in those days, inside sales. Nowadays....reservations agent....what the hell, I knew the department from delivering mail to it, girls seemed nice and I was able to make friends with the manager and his assistant........SURE.....I'll give it a try. Turned out pretty nice. First week sent for training in the sales department training room, two doors away from the mail room, my old stomping ground. After that week, I was sent back up and began my new job. I had the have a supervisor, listen in on all my calls and every time I showed any sign of an error, she would signal me to put the caller on hold, we would discuss the situation and back I went to the customer. I never had any fear of talking to customers and covered my little errors with expertise about nothing. My peers turned out to be extremely nice and my popularity began to soar. During my years there, our department formed a softball team to play any and all other departments, held parties that started at 11 PM, since some people had to work shifts, started a happy hour club at the tavern across the street from head office, excelled in dart throwing and beer chugging and mastered the art of selling vacation trip beyond what the aircraft would hold. AAAHHHHH its OK they will take care of it at the airport. In fact, we did so well one year that they had to call in a staff from Copenhagen, just to offload foreign passengers and we in return sent a staff of agents to Copenhagen to do the same for returning US passengers. SayLaVi.
I made my first oversees trip within that first year......to....of course....Sweden just to see if all the rumors were true. Well, much to my surprise, the Swedish girls, I would have taken home to mom were very hard to meet and it wasn't long I found the only way to meet them was to be formally introduced to them. Guess, I had to pull something out of the hat. I remember going into the Stockholm city office and introducing myself to a agent as a colleague from America with the excuse of needing to list myself for a flight back home. She, wanting to know about New York, agreed to have a cup of coffee with me. Now, I had a friend that would introduce me to other friends. Way to Go!!!! I found out that she was also the daughter of the owner of SAAB MOTORS and would be coming over to New York to work for a short time and was bringing a girl friend over to work temporarily in the head office. Did I step in it or what??? It turned out that she was also one of Sweden's top rally car drivers, only one thing on the questionable list, she was a good 2",s taller than me, but who cares, I could easily get that with pads in my shoes.
That first trip, still remains in my mind. I will never forget it as it gave me an extra 16 days in Copenhagen. Of course at the time it was horrible, but then I keep remembering the good things. I was listed for the flight and placed on the standby list. Each day I went to the airport and stood by for the flight back to New York. Each day, it would end up the same way, no seats left for me. The bad part was that each day there were other employees trying to get back home to the states and I found that they were also being added to the ever increasing numbers of stand bys. We all tried with great difficulty to conserve money for hotels, we even moved in with each other or sneaked into someones room to sleep on a couch or in a chair since money was now becoming tight. Those lucky enough to be traveling on company business could go into the SAS office to draw on perdiem and would lend money to those that did not have any available. The list grew and on the 15th day, the now up to 60 standby passengers were once again told no room....but the bright side was near. The President of SAS, inc. now had convinced the higher echelon in Stockholm to put another flight on just for the standbys since 60 employees was probably 1/3 of all the North American employees at that time. That night I remember sleeping at a place called the Dixie bar, since rooms were now becoming overcrowded and everything seemed to go by seniority. I ordered one beer, sat down at a table, sipped my beer and finally my head just hit the table. Some people did not know if I was knocked out or just sleeping. It was about 6 am when my eyes opened and I could see familiar faces around the table all looking the same. Time for breakfast,(rest of the beer) and out to the airport.......again. The time with a different result, All 60 employees made it back on "SAS Party Flight 911A" It was so very nice to circle JFK. Always wondered if that was a payback compliments of the airport staff for overbooking so many flights.
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