First Class Passengers

First Class Passengers

Gary E. Grissom

Ron Scott and I had gone on a weekend pass from Fort Benjamin Harrison in Indianapolis, to his parents’ home in Pittsburgh. We had flown there by using military standby status on an America Airlines 707. To get military standby reduced tickets, you needed to wear your uniform. We felt very lucky to get two seats on the plane and looked forward to an exciting weekend away from the fort and to be wearing civilian clothes again. Ron’s father met us at the airport at 7 p.m. and drove us to their home.

“I hear you’re from San Diego.” Mr. Scott said.

“Yes I am. This is my first trip back east and I’m enjoying the passing countryside. Everything’s so beautiful.”

Ron laughed and said “I told Gary that I had finally gone out west when I arrived in Indianapolis, and Gary said that he thought he had finally gone back east.”

Ron’s father laughed and said “Well Gary, you’re officially back east now that you’re in Pennsylvania.”

“Glad to be here sir.”

“Ron wrote and said that you’re both in a clerk stenography class. How’s that going?”

“So far, so good. But I’m a little concerned about having to take 90 words per minute to be able to pass the course. I’ve heard that about a third of the class usually fail. And that if we fail, we will be sent to the infantry and then to Vietnam.”

“Mmmm…that is a lot of pressure they’ve put on you. The only advice I can give you is to study hard and do your best. But, for now, relax and have some fun this weekend.”

The Scott’s lived in a beautiful green two-story Victorian home. Mrs. Scott met us at the door. She was wearing a gingham dress with an apron and had a warm smile.

“Hi Mom.” Ron said as she wrapped her arms around him.

Ron introduced us and she gave me a big hug too.

“Is that delicious pot roast I smell?”

“Yes it is, Gary. I always make it when Ron comes home. It’s his favorite.”

“Mine too, Mrs. Scott.”

“I’ve cooked an extra large roast because Ron said you might be coming too.”

“Great! There’s nothing quite like good home cooking. It beats army chow every time.”

“You can say that again Gary.” Ron added.

Mrs. Scott led me into the guest room that was adjacent to the living room. I placed my duffel bag in a corner.

“Thanks. Now I can change into my favorite civilian clothes.”

“Go ahead Gary. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

She closed the door and a wave of warm happiness flowed over me. I knew It was going to be so good to sleep in this nice, clean room instead of the barracks. As I changed into my brown corduroy pants and favorite green pull over sweater, I admired the way Mrs. Scott had decorated the room. The bedspread was blue with a snowflake pattern. The wooden chest-of-drawers was hand carved with interesting Nordic images and the yellow throw rug looked perfect on the dark wood floor. There were also some nice framed water color paintings on the knotty pine wall, as well as an oil painting of a classic sailing ship on a deep blue ocean.

Mr. Scott sat at the head of the table and was drinking a Budweiser.

“Have a seat Gary. Would you like a beer?”

“Yes sir. I would love one.”

“You can call me Frank and you don’t have to address me as “sir.”

“And you can call me Beatrice.” Mrs. Scott said as she carried in a bowl of mashed potatoes. “Have a seat Gary."

Before we started eating, Frank lowered his head and said “Thanks for the beer, thanks for the meat, I’m picking up my fork ‘cos it’s time to eat. Praise God!”

Beatrice cringed and said “Come on Frank! You can say a better grace than that.”

“Oh yeah honey. I’ll do better next time.”

“You better.”

I suppressed my laughter as Frank passed the mashed potatoes to me and then started carving up the roast.

Ron brought me a bottle of Bud and sat down next to me.

“I heard you tell my dad that you wanted a beer.”

Thanks Ron. Aren’t you going to have one with us?

“No. I prefer the can of cream soda that I have in my hand."

Frank frowned and said “Ron doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

“Yes I do dad. You know I hate the taste of beer.”

The pot roast was delicious and tender and practically slid off my fork as I raised it to my mouth.

“This is the best pot roast I’ve ever had. Beatrice, you’re a great cook!”

“Thanks Gary. I love to cook for my family and friends.”

After dinner, Ron suggested that we go to a dance held at his favorite place called The Red Barn. 

“Great idea Ron. That sounds good to me.”

“Yeah you guys go out and paint the town red tonight. You can take the Ford Ron.”

Thanks dad.

“As we drove, Ron turned on the radio as Brenda Lee was singing “Sweet Nothings.”

“God! I love the way she sings. She’s my favorite singer Gary. Did I ever tell you that?”

“Only about a dozen times. But that’s cool of course. She’s one of my favorite singers too.”

The Red Barn actually was a red barn. It had a dirt floor covered with strands of straw. There were bench tables throughout and customers were served by waitresses dressed in long red checkered dresses. On the raised wooden stage, a good band was performing country western hits mixed with some current rock ‘n’ roll songs. The dance floor was filled with energetic dancers and I wanted to join them.

“Come on Ron, let’s find some girls and rock out.”

As we walked around, a beautiful brunette smiled at me so I walked up to her and asked her to dance.

The next song was the slow “Let it Be Me.” It was a big hit by the Everly Brothers.   I was very happy when the young woman threw her arms around me as we started dancing.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Ellen. What’s yours?”

“I’m Gary.”

As we were dancing, I noticed that Ron had found a partner too. It was the beginning of a very good evening. We both stayed with the same girls and agreed to double date the next day when we took them sledding at a hill near Ron’s home; and then we had barbeque at Joe and Ed’s Best BBQ pit. Later on, Ellen and I found some quiet time alone at her apartment and Ron and his date went to her place.

Our weekend of fun quickly came to an end as we realized on Sunday afternoon that we had to put on our Army uniforms so that we could get military standby tickets at the airport. Frank drove us to the airport and we arrived at 6:30 p.m. At first, we didn’t think we would have any trouble getting our tickets; but after being told three times that all the seats on the departing planes were full, we started to feel anxious. Then when we were told that the last flight to Indianapolis wasn’t going to leave until 9:30, we started to panic. We realized that if we weren’t on that flight, we wouldn’t get back to Fort Ben on time. We would be absent without leave, or A.W.O.L. to use a common term, and we would be in serious trouble. Since neither of us had enough money to pay the full fare for the flight, we were getting a bad case of the G.I. blues. At 9 p.m. when we approached the American Airlines counter and begged for some military standby tickets, we were told, once again, that there were no available tickets for the 9:30 flight to Indianapolis.

“Well, we’re in trouble.” I said aloud.

“Oh don’t feel so down soldier,” said a sweet voice behind us. "I overheard you talking to the counter girl and I understand your predictament. I’ll get you on this flight.”

Ron and I turned around to see a very pretty flight attendant smiling at us.

“Follow me soldiers.”

We picked up our duffel bags and gratefully followed that angel up the ramp to the plane. But instead of leading us to seats in the coach area, she led us into the first class section.

“Here’s a couple of good seats for you,” she said. “You can put your duffel bags in the overhead compartment and then sit back and have a great flight.”

“Thank you!” we said in unison. “We really appreciate this.”

Then a grumpy voice from a man sitting near us said “Are you sure their First Class passengers? They just look like a couple of military standbys to me.”

She smiled at the man and said, “Well sir, all U.S. servicemen are First Class passengers because they are serving our country.”

Then she looked at Ron and I and winked.

“Would you both like some champagne?”