but I didn’t turn into a Prince just a starry-eyed stripling.
Over at his blog home Larry Muffin celebrated the great (such an overused word but in this case nothing else would do) actress, activist and politician Melina Merkouri. It brought back a memory from my misspent (well not so much misspent as overspent) youth which I thought I’d reshare. So for Pierre who missed this when I first wrote it in 2008 I give you an old man’s fond memory:
Early March of 1967 I was in my first year with Air Canada (my employer for the next 33 years) at Toronto Airport. A clerk in the Operations tower, I worked in a fishbowl perched at the end of a boarding finger reached by a metal spiral staircase. In those days people walked outside to board an airplane, any airplane not just the small propeller ones. One windy afternoon I had struggled down the stairs with an armload of flight plans heading for the terminal. A charter flight from Philadelphia, carrying Melina Merkouri and the cast of the Broadway-bound Illya Darling, was deplaning as I walked towards the terminal.
I don’t recall how it happened but I tripped and 25 flight plans and I fell to the ground in an undignified pile. As I scrambled to collect the plans and my dignity a smoky accented voice asked: Are you…
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