Sad news indeed. The only airliner instantly recognizable, in the air or on the ground - and drop-dead gorgeous to boot! And the only airliner to have a name that doesn't need to be preceded by an article.
It brings back memories of a bygone age...
02 May 1977. Check-in at LHR for BA 579 Concorde service to Washington Dulles. My one-way ticket reads UKL 433.50 - seems awfully pricey in comparison to the $240 Ottawa-London RT ticket on a Laker charter which got me to London but what the hell - clearly worth every penny as soon as you catch sight of that bird!
Start in on the Dom Perignon '69 to wash down the smoked salmon canapes in the Concorde departure lounge prior to boarding.
On board, as I setlle in Seat 2B, I notice the door to the flight deck is open. It stays open for the rest of the flight ("We rather think it's good
PR, sir"). Capt Norman Todd himself is in command.
Craning my neck just a little, I get a pretty fair view of the takeoff through the windshield.
On the climb-out, a heart-stopping moment as a black shape appears in the windshield. Oh, my Gawd, we're going to collide!!!! Then I realize it's the nose and visor rising into view.
Mach 1 is registered on the screen and I, and a few other pax applaud, but most seem unfazed (seen it all before?).
Eventually, "M2.00" appears (I still have a photo as proof). The small windows are warm to the touch, the sky outside dark blue, the clouds far, far below.
After lunch (Iranian caviar, breast of duckling suedoise, salad of palm hearts from the Seychelles... more Dom P '69), I stand at the cockpit door for a while, chatting with an off-duty F/E in the jump seat. The pilots clearly are busy flying the plane and doing paperwork. Capt Todd turns his head and gives me a smile, then gets back to the job. Note to Beamer and others earlier in this thread: those Concorde crews have their hands full OPERATING the aircraft, not just sitting back, monitoring progress in a fancy glass cockpit. One trans-Atlantic sector and they've earned their rest.
Approaching America, the eastern seaboard is spread out before you, from Cape Cod practically to Newfoundland - like looking at an atlas, for God's sake.
Then the moment you wish you could put off for just a little while longer, just to prolong the thrill of a lifetime: the approach and landing, a/c nose way up.
Finally, the mother of all anti-climaxes, the limo ride into downtown Washington.Back to earth with a thump.
But that flight - the memories never leave you.
Rockhound