In early Fall 1979, my brother, our best friend and I were invited to come up to Houston, TX by someone who eventually became my step-father. We toured NASA and also saw the Astros beat the Cincinnati Reds in 13 innings at the Astrodome. However, it was the flight to Houston that made it a special aviation experience for me.
We took a late flight out of Corpus Christi, TX on Southwest Airlines. We sat in the very back of the plane with me (aisle seat) and our friend (window seat) on the right side and my brother on the left side (window seat).
With the cabin lights dimmed low and the plane climbing, we occupied ourselves by looking out the window at the city lights which looked like diamonds on velvet. Eventually my side ran out of the lights so I started to turn to my left in order to see out the window where my brother was sitting.
All of a sudden I felt something stab my left cheek. Putting my hand against it wondering what the heck happened, a female voice boomed out expressing her profuse apologies. It turns out that the flight attendant was about to tap me on the shoulder with her pen to ask me if I wanted something to drink while I was turning to look out the window on my left.
