My first flight
I was 17 years old the first time I boarded a plane. We had to fly in order to arrive in time for my grandfather’s funeral. Appropriating a major portion of my father’s monthly salary from the state bank where he worked as a clerk, my mother purchased three tickets, one for me, one for my father and one for herself. And they were only one-way fares! Beside the loss of his father-in-law, those tickets were probably a source of considerable grief to my poor father. But he had no choice but to put down the money.
I don’t know what my mother might have done otherwise!
I meanwhile was treated to a detailed run-down of planes and flying by my mother’s uncle, who, just the reverse of us, had flown to Istanbul from Samsun for his brother’s funeral. He was over sixty and it was his first flight too. Like us, he also had no choice. Nobody in our family could afford to get on a plane in those days anyway unless another family member had died.