Flying was just another form of transport, albeit slightly superior to an eleven yr old, well who makes Airfix buses?
Dad took a job in Brazil and jet travel became boarding school to jungle home transportation. Belem International was just a shack and a warehouse at the mouth of the Amazon. Having arrived by Varig, Pan Am or chartered American carrier, home was still 400 km's away by company DC3.
The 11/12 yr old gringo boy was always offered a seat in the Goony-bird cockpit but always refused! One day, after another unaccompanied flight from LHR via Miami, there was no-one to meet me at Belem: I found the normal meeting area, recognised the Captain and told him of my predicament. Both Carlos and Jose recognised me and alleviated any anxiety (haven't seen yr folks for 12 weeks and your mum wasn't at MIA like advertised - your not sure if you should have waited - but hell, yr booked through and no there are no 'phones in the jungle!!)
An hour later - climbing out over the Amazon as dawn broke, sitting in the cockpit with the two cheroot smoking crew, I thought - yeah this is good!
Jose called the company on the HF net and I told my father that I was "inbound estimating arrival at 0852". Mum and Dad met me at the strip!
Jose, the co-pilot kept a C150 at the company strip and whenever I returned we'd fly together. Obrigado, 'se!
Twenty years later in Africa, I did my DC3 ground school and as a multi-engine rated PPL took my vacation in-country to fly UNICEF aid food into the bush in DC3's and Caribous.
I just love it but have no desire to prostitute myself by doing it for money!
sNr - just a PPL