"Hello, and good evening, I'm Sandra, your coordinator for tonight's flight."
She looked around as she spoke, making fleeting eye contact with as many of those present as possible. Her accent was neutral, mid Atlantic - as if she had, quite literally, attended school somewhere over the ocean.
"I'd like to welcome each of you on behalf of British Airways and World Tours International to this very, very, special event. Your journey will never, and can never, be repeated. Every one here, I'm sure, shares our sense of excitement about tonight, and what better way to begin this trip than with a toast to the best of the past, the present, and an inspiration for the future. I give you Concorde?"
As the room lights were dimmed the blinds behind her parted and through the window could be seen the floodlit brilliance of the slender white fuselage of the supersonic aircraft. That man and machine were united in this vessel was punctuated by the small porthole like windows that reminded him of great ocean liners of the past. A human cocoon, comfortable, and secure, but surrounded only inches away by the forces and danger that man had induced of technology and nature. It was the nearest thing to a spaceship for the commercial traveler that yet existed. It flew at almost twice the altitude of a 747 - and at more than twice the speed.
The young lady went on to confirm the night's itinerary, but now, with only half an ear for the hostess, he moved to a window sipping from the glass of champagne that had so deftly been offered to him.
He'd read much about the craft recently, and his expectation had grown with every pass over his house that the plane made. For, in the way that coincidence happens, the home he now occupied was immediately beneath one of the take-off flight paths for this mechanical hawk. Once, and sometimes twice a day, the noise would beckon. Beginning with a low rumble, and building quickly to a tumultuous roar that shook body and soul, the plane would pass low, almost, and sometimes directly, overhead. The resulting craned necks of onlookers attested to the strange magnetism of its power. No one he knew complained about the noise. To see it was to wonder at the achievement of mankind in its emulation and adaptation of nature. But perhaps more simply, to see it was to be in awe.
The rumbling of his own stomach suddenly brought his thoughts back to more earthly matters. With perfect timing dinner was about to be served.
After a very pleasant but disappointingly uneventful dinner his spirits were again buoyed by the imminent prospect of boarding the aircraft. He wondered to himself as to how many of the passengers today had flown the Concorde before. It was astoundingly expensive to fly it as a regular passenger but there were several tour operators who arranged package trips that included at least a one-way flight on the aircraft. He'd always been tempted, but chose to wait for this night for his first supersonic voyage to make it all the more special.
The captain welcomed everyone aboard with the assurance that even though the night which lay ahead was to be a spectacular one he would definitely not be drinking and driving. Never the less he encouraged everyone else to indulge, "Put on a party hat and blow up a BA balloon!" - rubber inflatables that were so thoughtfully provided to aid in the festivities. The captain continued.
"I'll be quiet for a few minutes now, but I'll be keeping you posted of interesting facts along our way, and of course, as we greet the new millennia for the first time. Your stewardess, Miss Riley, will now take you through the safety routine, and if you have any questions or desires, please do not hesitate to ask. Within the realms of decency of course."
Light laughter and sideways glances accompanied the captain's latter remark. His lips, however, merely contorted with mild disdain.
"Cabin crew to take-off positions please. Doors to automatic."
The seat belt lights flashed, and he readied himself for an experience similar, but at the same time, different to any other take-off he had ever encountered. The vessel taxied to its take-off position in only a few minutes, so well orchestrated and timed, that at precisely 23:15 Greenwich Mean Time, the captain announced their departure.
Even on the inside the sound of the engines was surprising. A roar, and the feeling of acceleration that pressed his back into the seat left no doubt as to the power that the engines held. Within a few seconds the craft, crew and passengers were airborne. With the reheats (or, as the captain pointed out, 'afterburners', to the Americans) on, the sound of power was astonishing, but once the initial effects of inertia and gravity were overwhelmed the engines calmed to normality, and the noise level dropped dramatically.
He looked down on the quickly receding lights below and wondered what it would be like a hundred, and perhaps a thousand years on. Would there be many more lights, or even an artificial daylight? Or no lights. Maybe England as he knew it would no longer exist. Maybe?
The deputy captain interrupted his last thought with an update.
"As some of you may be aware we can only fly supersonic over oceans and very remote parts of the world, so although there will be a short period when we should be able to go supersonic, most of the trip will be made at about 95% the speed of sound. Of course, I'll be keeping you informed of our progress and if you look at the displays in the front of each cabin you'll be able to keep track of our air speed and altitude."
He stared from the photo-sized portal to the world below and his mind drifted aimlessly as he let the experience wash over him.
A few more minutes past and another announcement caught his attention.
"We're going to be passing Paris in just a minute or so, and those of you on the right hand side - starboard in technical terms - of the aircraft will be able to see the Eiffel tower and this evening's laser and fireworks show. Those of you on the left?can just be jealous."
He didn't find this particularly amusing, but being seated on the 'right' side was nice. He concentrated on the darkness with excited expectation. From his earliest childhood he had loved fireworks. He stared intently, but not without interruption.
"Hi, I couldn't help noticing this seat's empty. Would you mind if I sat down for a minute?"
His body tensed for a moment, and he looked back to the window for a second. When he turned back, he'd half hoped that she would be gone. But still she stood there, waiting, with an expression half-quizzical and half concerned.
"If it's a problem..."
Several thoughts flashed through his head at more than supersonic speed. Why was this very attractive young lady interested in his company? Well, he was sitting on the right side of the aircraft. And how do you explain to such a person in only a few painful words as to why the seat is empty, and why you had no intention of letting anyone sit down there?
"It's no problem, please..."
She sat down and offered him her hand.
"My name's Julia Anderson."
"I'm, ('taken aback' flashed through his mind, but he returned quickly to the conventional) I'm Geremy. Nice to meet you - Julia."
"How do you know?"
He was already a little embarrassed, and her remark really didn't help.
"Well?I?"
She smiled.
"It's okay, it's just my weird way of trying to be funny. I like taking people off guard. It's nice to meet you too Geremy. It's exciting isn't it?"
He looked at her for a thought before answering. She was beautiful, she certainly had personality, and she seemed intelligent - not bad for a first impression. Her green eyes begged the confirmation.
"Yes. That it is." He couldn't help smiling as he spoke.
She smiled back warmly.
"Look, it's so beautiful!"
She peered around him to see through the window, but didn't lean across him. She wasn't that forward.
They both looked in silence for a few seconds at the blue, white and red lasers and floodlights that proclaimed French nationalism to be as strong going into the next thousand years as at any time in the previous millennia.
He studied the display carefully for the few seconds that it was visible. They had passed quickly and hi
s focus changed to the reflection of his new companion. For a fraction of a second their eyes met in the glass and he turned quickly to her with a polite and somewhat light hearted, slightly raised brow.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, but you appeared to be alone at dinner. Most people tonight seem to be in couples?Anyway, I thought you might like someone to chat to for a while."
"That's very kind. But I'm quite used to being on my own."
He realized he had sounded a little brusque. He didn't mean it to come out that way.
"If you don't mind me asking, how did you end up by yourself on this flight, I mean, I assume you are alone. I haven't noticed any other empty seats."
"No I don't think there are. We booked ours seven years ago."
Her eyes acknowledged the 'we', but she chose to let it go. She was sure he'd bring it up again himself. She quickly replied.
"I couldn't afford to book two, and it would have been a little presumptuous to count on being in a relationship at this time six years ago anyway. So here I am by myself. Just me."
She looked quite proud of herself. Whether or not it was the alcohol or the altitude Geremy wasn't sure, but he felt an attraction to this woman. He wanted to tell her everything, how he felt, how he missed his wife, how he needed to remember - and forget too. But this wasn't the time. He didn't want to chance anything other than light conversation.
"May I ask what you do, Julia?"
"Does it matter tonight Geremy? Yes, sorry again. I suppose it does, doesn't it? It tells us something about a person's personality, their drive and ambition, their status. Or does it? Anyway, I'm a reporter. But before you jump to any conclusions, I paid for this flight myself, it's a 'personal trip'. Although, give me a day or two and I'm sure I'll write about it."
She tilted her head just a little, in an alarmingly adorable way.
"I usually try not to jump to any conclusions. It sounds like it must be a very interesting job though. Do you work for one company or do you freelance?"
"I've been freelancing for a few years now. It started slowly, small papers with a column here and a column there, but then I decided to start taking pictures to go along with my stories, you know, photojournalism. Then things really started to 'take-off' - sorry, couldn't help it. Anyway, I really enjoy being able to tell the whole story. As has been said so many times, 'a picture is worth a thousand words'. And you know what? If we're talking dollars they're worth a whole lot more than that. So?that's what I do, what about you Geremy? What do you do when you're not on a supersonic aircraft for New Year's?"
He hesitated, just for a split second.
"I'm an engineer, actually."
He felt slightly embarrassed saying it out loud, but knew he had no reason to be. It just didn't sound very exciting at that particular moment.
"An engineer? Hmm, my uncle was an engineer, what kind?
Before he could answer another announcement cut into their banter, but now neither paid much attention. For the few seconds they smiled lightly and somewhat quizzically at each other.
"Electronics. I mostly do consulting work on interfaces - the way that different units interact so that they can actually work together. And?Well?I invent things. Nothing ready for production yet, so I can't really talk about them, but handy, helpful things. Nothing too major."
"Well it all sounds impressive to me Geremy. I'm still having problems programming my DVR, so I stick to people myself. I like to figure out what makes them tick. Why what happened, happened. Does that sound odd to you?"
"No, why, should it?"
"Some people think that being a reporter is like being paid to be a busybody. And, in some ways, I suppose they're right, but I like to take inquisitiveness one-step further. I write my stories for people who really want to know what's going on."
"Inquiring minds?"
"Ha, ha. Actually, I work for the New York Times, well, most of the time. I don't write for the tabloids."
"Well that's a relief. I wouldn't want to find my life story on every newsstand next week."
As he said it he thought, 'If only it was interesting enough for anyone to care.' But he punctuated his response with a smile, nevertheless.
"Yes sir."
Geremy had discreetly pressed another button during their conversation.
"Julia?"
"Perrier with lemon, please."
"I'll have a Bailey's on ice. Thanks."
The stewardess moved quietly away.
"Don't you pay any attention to studies Geremy?"
"Sorry?"
"Alcohol and altitude - they don't mix very well"
"Are you trying to tell me that you haven't had anything to drink tonight? I don't drink myself as a rule, but I do think tonight is just a little bit special."
"I suppose you're right, but I just want to have a clear head. I want to remember every moment of tonight for the rest of my life."
"Will that memory include me?"
He couldn't believe he said it, and felt immediately flushed. She stared at him for a moment.
"I suppose it will now won't it?" She laughed. He stared into his glass and thought for a moment.
The captain's voice put an end to any awkwardness before it could settle in.
"Hello again. We're now passing over western Russia and coming up on the first of our midnight hours. I hope everyone's ready because we're just one minute away from tomorrow..."
Everyone quieted down very quickly and watched the digital clock that now counted down the seconds.
At ten seconds everyone including the captain and crew joined in the countdown.
"Nine...eight...seven...six...five...four...three...two...one...Happy New Millennia!"
Julia leant over and kissed Geremy on the cheek. Their eyes met, not now in the reflection of the window, but as a reflection of each other. Within a moment their mouths kissed, and a new level of intimacy was established.
There was much hugging, kissing and general euphoria over the next few minutes, and for some reason the toilets seemed very busy with pairs of seats being vacant at the same time. Once the passengers noticed en masse what was happening it became quite the trend, and as each couple emerged more and more people seemed to loose their inhibitions and applaud them as they walked back to their seats. This incited many blushes and laughter, but the mood was exuberant, and light hearted, within a few seconds another couple would disappear into the 'lavatory of love' as it was quickly nicknamed. The night had seemingly turned into a supersonic love fest for the elite of the 'mile high club'.
Several glasses of champagne, two more midnights, and several urges later Geremy ventured "Shall we?" Julia didn't even hesitate, and simply took him by the hand as she moved out of her seat and towards the smallest room. And small it was.
An hour later and they had arrived in Nice.
"Well Geremy, that was most definitely the experience of a lifetime."
"Never to be repeated. The dawn of a new millennia that is."
Geremy smiled and felt a way he hadn't in years.
"Where were you staying Julia?"
"'Were staying', that's a little presumptuous isn't it Geremy?"
He looked at her with a feeling of less assurance than he had only a moment earlier.
"How do you know your hotel's better than mine?"
They laughed together.
_______________________________
2000.01.01 13:09 G.M.T. 14:09 E.T.
c5 Brunch
"Sir, Madame. Good afternoon."
The waiter was uniformed and immaculate.
"May I offer you tea, coffee?"
Julia answered quickly.
"Coffee for myself, Geremy?"
"Tea please."
Geremy and Julia had seated themselves a moment earlier. In the time it had taken for the waiter to appear they had studied their surroundings. The hotel was small and relatively informal yet perfectly presented. Fresh flowers brightened every table and the Provencal colo
urs of the decor played together in the afternoon light that streamed through the windows. The table they had chosen was next to a window itself. The view had drawn them, for they now overlooked the C?te d'Azur.
It was late for lunch and most of the guests had already departed for the afternoon. The waiter had been the model of politeness, but Geremy was sure their tardiness was irritating to their server and the kitchen. It couldn't be helped - the morning had been magic. They smiled at each other across the table.
"So where do we go from here?"
"How about a long drive?"
"Sounds like a good start."
Julia had just taken her napkin from its ring and had started to smooth it on her lap when there was a crash from the kitchen and, for several moments, apparent silence. No shouting. No cursing. The only sounds to be heard were the loud tones of what sounded like a news broadcast on a portable radio.