Y'know, there was a time when getting away meant really getting away, and there was no e-mail, no Blackberries, and hell, even finding a telephone was more effort than anyone could muster. The airplane had a throaty roar, the stewardesses were models of efficiency (and beauty, too!), people drove right to the airfield, and walked to the airplane. A hanger was a place where a passenger embarked, and sometimes, even disembarked. Those were very different times, and songs were written about them with lyrics that endure... Come fly with me, let's float down to Peru In llama land there's a one-man band And he'll toot his flute for you Come fly with me, let's take off in the blue Ah, yes, let's fly away tonight... Always shoot. John P.