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Or how last October I left JFK 3 times on Concorde in less than 30 hours.

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October 6th and the moment has come to bid the Big Apple a very fondfarewell. The time is 05:45 as we check out of The Belvedere Hotel on 48th and climb into a gleaming yellow Ford New York taxi. The giant American driver is very courteous and gives us a smooth ride as we drill our way through the still dark streets and onto the interstate that effortlessly takes us to Terminal 7 at Kennedy. I am surprised at the amount of traffic around for such an early hour, but no matter we are here after less than 40 minutes.

Into departures and hardly a soul around save one young man at check-in with no-one to talk to. My wife is flying out at 08:55 on the BA178 bound for Heathrow while I am due to go five minutes later on Speedbird Concorde 002. We are a bit early but I don't want to miss a single second of the day for I know that today I will realize an aching ambition that has been burning within me for more than a quarter of a century. An ambition that is shared by countless thousands if not millions around the world, the vast majority of whom will go to their graves unfulfilled. I know that today I will fly as high and as fast and for as long as any human being in history has done, save for a few hundred brave astronauts. Soon the love of my life and I will go our separate ways but for now we are together and being treated to super polite and professional American check in staff.

In no time at all we are upstairs in the departure lounge and straight ahead is a sign saying "Concorde Passengers Only" To the right through plate glass windows can be seen the apron where a small portion of British Airways Concorde G-BOAC is visible. She is instantly recognisable to me as the oldest, and heaviest by about a ton, of the Concorde fleet still operational.

Flagship

All the seven BA Concordes had their airworthiness certificates withdrawn shortly after the Paris crash. G-BOAA and G-BOAB were mothballed at Heathrow at the time and have never flown since. The other five aircraft underwent a £14m refit to enable them to meet newly imposed safety requirements. My aircraft "Alpha Charlie" is regarded by British Airways as the flagship of the fleet because her registration G-BOAC rekindles memories of the old company British Overseas Airways Corporation before it merged with BEA to create the airline we know today. Yes, okay, I'm boring you! Back to matters in hand. Well we're here.

Staring at the entrance to the exclusive Concorde lounge. Walking through those doors puts me into the same world as the super rich. Personalities, top sportsmen, politicians and the like. But I'll have to do it without my beloved. Suddenly I feel a shiver as I weigh up the unfairness of having to say goodbye to my wife four thousand miles from home. Hey, she is braver than me, but what the hell. In a few hours time I will be pacing up and down the terminal at Heathrow waiting for that slowcoach Boeing to deposit her at my feet again, ready for a proper British hug.

Horizontal

She's gone, and I'm through the doors and the Concorde lounge looks like the penthouse suite at the Park Lane Hilton, but with a lot more sofas and chairs. Leather covered of course. Some of them even recline so that you can read the New York Times in a horizontal position while watching Bloomberg on the giant TV and enjoying a champagne breakfast. As much as you like, all inclusive with your Concorde ticket that works out at about a pound a mile, if I may be so vulgar. That's a hell of a lot cheaper than a London taxi! And we haven't even got to the plane yet.

Ah yes, the plane! She is far more visible now than ever before. One of the bonuses of entering the Concorde lounge is a grandstand view of the missile that will shortly propel you faster than a rifle bullet to the very edge of space, without spilling your coffee. Or so I have been told. To describe her just as an aircraft does her a huge injustice. She is a work of art in titanium. The most efficient, the most sensationally beautiful machine ever created by man.

Digitals

I am looking at the other passengers. Mainly businessmen, although I think I recognise the former England cricketer Phil Tufnell. They are all trying very hard not to be the first person to give in and start ogling the Concorde that is just feet away behind the plate glass. Before long all the digitals come out of the breast pockets of the perfectly hanging suit jackets, and all the inhibitions of the so called jet setters are lost. I swear that if Darryl Hannah had been lying naked on the couch with "come and get me" tattooed on the soles of her feet, she would have died of loneliness. Such is the pulling power of Concorde!

I am standing well back. My camcorder is in my right hand and my arm is down by my side. What nobody knows is that the 'record' button is on and I am filming everything that is going on, from thigh height. This is not going to be a masterpiece, as I am obviously unable to look through the viewfinder, but I point the lens in roughly the right direction for interesting shots. The plan is to keep the camera running for as long as possible. Today is a day that I never want to forget. I am on my way.

Nonchalant

I put my passport and boarding card into my right breast pocket for removal using my left hand as I can only hold the camera on the strap with my right hand. Checkpoint. Camera still running. I walk nonchalantly down the tunnel toward the aircraft like I've been there a million times before. Point of note: Trying to look nonchalant (can't spell it, never mind do it) while your heart is doing a million beats per millisecond, and secretly filming at the same time is just so uncool. I am at the entrance to Concorde. Any second now I am going to fulfil my greatest ambition.

Camera still running, recording sounds as well as pictures. Checkpoint, steward needs to see my papers. Quick glance into the half open cockpit door. Exchange pleasantries and through the galley into the the fore cabin. Very little room. The camcorder is now in front of me at thigh level in my right hand with my hand luggage held directly above it in my left hand. I am getting a really good close up of some guys butt right in front of me, but of course I dare not try to adjust the camera for fear of being found out. Where is Jennifer Lopez when you need her?

Power

In an effort to avoid breaking the camera lens, I swing slowly from side to side, hopefully getting shots of the voluptuous Connolly hide leather seats and a lot of smiling, happy people. My seat is 25D, last row but one at the back of the aircraft, just as I had requested. Right by the engines. I jam the camera, now recording sound only, out of sight between me and the fuselage. The captain starts up the two inboard engines. The power of Concordes engines is such that the arm of the tractor would buckle if all four engines were running. Even on idle.

Everything is going well as we go into pushback. The flight attendants go through the safety procedure as we taxi away. The captain starts to tell us all what to expect in the early stages of the flight. Camera still running on sound. Airport workers stop and take photographs of us as we taxi toward the runway. "We'll be away soon, only two aircraft in front of us now", said the captain, but nobody knew then that this plane was never going to get off the ground.

As Concorde G-BOAC taxis toward the runway it is around 09:18 and everything is fine. Actually 'fine' is a masterpiece of understatement because for me the last three hours or so have been filled with indescribable excitement and expectation. Captain Ron Weiner has just told us that there are only two aircraft ahead of us, so we will be away very shortly now.

I have always felt that a take off from the window seat of any aircraft is pleasure enough for this old man. What new level of excitement will Concorde provide? The captain has already warned us that her sporting performance is second only to that of the NASA space shuttles. So will it really be like sitting on a rocket? I am strapped into seat 25D, one row from the back and by the window, of course. Hidden camcorder still running on sound but now very low on tape. Will there be enough left to record the take off?

Doppelganger

Girlfriend of the Phil Tufnell doppelganger is sitting next to me, and I am unaware of a flight attendant situated in the aisle between the seats of row 26 behind me. She is about to serve tea to the passenger in seat 26C. That strikes me now as really strange, but Concorde is a niche above first class, and at that level you get what you want, when you want it. Suddenly there is a jolt, followed instantly by another. Concorde had gone from a very slow crawl to a dead halt. The passengers are okay because of the seat harnesses.

But the flight attendent has lost her footing and the drinks she was holding go everywhere. It was fortunate that the guy in 26C was already wearing a brown shirt, because he was soaked. The poor girl in the BA uniform could have died of embarrasment as voulanteers from every nook and cranny in the aft cabin came forward offering to wipe down her tunic. Luckily for her, most of the liquid that was spilt landed on her back.

Shortly afterwards the Captain advised us that we had a problem and it would not now be prudent to attempt a take off as the aircraft required the expertise of an engineer, so we would have to return to the terminal. Once at the gate a quick repair was attempted but after 10 minutes the Captain suggested that we would be more comfortable by returning to the exclusive Concorde lounge in the terminal building. Once back in the lounge we all have another glass of champagne, but there is little to cheer us up. Captain Weiner has joined us for a briefing. G-BOAC had suffered main system brake failure, causing the excellent automatic backup system to cut in, which was the double jolt. Two hours after our original departure time we are recalled. Once again passports and boarding cards are shown.

Pushback

All the passengers are back in their seats and engine number 3 is lit up, right next to my position. Engine number 2 fires up next. Pre flight checks are completed and we go into pushback. Once the tractor is disconnected the two outboard engines are started up. First number 4 followed by number 1. We are away from the terminal area when the voice of the Captain is once again heard. "I don't quite know how to tell you this, but the same problem has occurred again, and I am very sorry to tell you that we have to return to the terminal".

Back in the lounge it is now 12:30 lunchtime and we are being told that the BA 002 has an indefinate delay. The next update will be at 22:00 hours, but we cannot now fly out before 07:00 tomorrow, at the very earliest. Captain Weiner tells us that the next inbound Concorde flight will be carrying a complete replacement system from Heathrow for our stricken aircraft, but he does not expect Concorde G-BOAC to be able to leave JFK for some days to come. British Airways officials are working brilliantly to sort out the problem of looking after 99 passengers with nowhere to go.

Barclaycard

I am immediately given a huge meal of Scottish smoked salmon and tender braised beef and lashings of Chinese style rice, all washed down with yet another glass of champagne. I am offered a refund and a flight home on a subsonic airliner, or a room for the night and two more free meals at the Crowne Plaza Hotel in the centre of Manhattan. No prizes for guessing which option I am going to choose, although I have a problem. All I have is what I am standing up in. Barbara has long since left for London with all the luggage. At least I have my camcorder and my credit card. So, not really a problem at all, if the Barclaycard ad is to be believed. Time to try it out!!

Just before midnight I get a call from BA telling me that Concorde G-BOAE has arrived from Heathrow and will be the subject of a quick turn around. She will be ready to fly at 12:00 tomorrow, October 7th.

7th October 2003

12:24. Finally, more than twenty seven hours late, the BA002 of October 6 is standing at the end of the runway at John F Kennedy ready to blast off with yours truly on board. The ground around Concorde G-BOAE is shaking and the air behind her is distorted through the heat haze as I sit motionless, straining to view every inch of the outside world through the tiny window to my right, and anchored in seat 25D right alongside and above engine number 3, waiting. Waiting for what I know perfecly well will be the most exiting, the most unforgettable sixty seconds of my entire life.

Time stands still for a moment or two as the palms of my hands start sweating up in anticipation. Suddenly the note from the four Rolls-Royce Olympus engines changes to an awesome roar as Captain Ron Weiner gives the command to "Go for Heathrow" and we are on our way. The push in the back as Concorde thunders down the runway is fantastic!! The cabin vibrates and I am hanging on, unable to move, but at the same time trying to take in all the sights, sounds and emotions of the moment that my inadequate brain can absorb. This is one hell of a white knuckle, rollercoaster ride.

Airborne

The Captain told us beforehand about the sporting performance of this Bentley of the skies. She does not sound like any old jet, her engines have a very loud, pleasing howl. Wonderful to listen to, in a way that red blooded males the world over love the sound of the symphony that is an Italian V12. We are airborne, and as the gear goes up Concorde is doing 250 mph. I can smell what I take to be the reheat (afterburners) through the fuselage. This is a totally unexpected sensation that is probably a benefit of my seating position at the back of the aircraft.

Exactly 62 seconds after Concorde starts her take off run Captain Weiner gives the command to switch off the reheat and the engines are throttled back to reduce the noise level on the ground. It is also much quieter inside the cabin as we continue to climb. Previously, I had had the pleasure of viewing New York from the 86th floor of the Empire State Building, as well as a simulated helicopter ride across the city, but as I look out through my Concorde window I am witnessing the most detailed sights imaginable as Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty disappear from view beneath me, and we head on upward and over Jamaica Bay.

Once away from land the reheats are switched back on, in pairs, increasing the power of Concordes engines by about 20%. I feel two slight nudges in the small of my back as first the inboard, then the outboard reheats are ignited. The all first class Concorde continues to climb and accelerate toward Mach 1. The leather seats are very comfortable and there is plenty of leg room, although space is limited across the beam. Only two seats either side of a single walking area. Since the moment we left the runway our ride has been silky smooth. No rattles or vibration, no noise at all but he sounds of lots of very happy people and of course, those gorgeous engines.

Supersonic

The first of many glasses of champagne is served along with caviar and what I take to be truffles, although it may have been moonfood for all I knew. High above the ocean two shock waves are created as Concorde edges through the sound barrier sending a sonic boom crashing into the waters below for many miles around, whilst inside the cabins passengers are in shirt sleeves and sipping their 1996 Pol Roger Brut Rose and enjoying lobster, saffron crushed potato cakes with spinach and Bloody Mary relish. Welcome to the supersonic club!

Inside Concorde, passing Mach 1, the speed of sound, is a total non event!! Hardly a ripple in my drink. The reheats are switched off at Mach 1.7 which is roughly twice the speed of conventional airliners, about 1,050 mph. During the flight G-BOAE twice touches 1,370 mph averaging out at about 1,340 or Mach 2, twice the speed of sound. We are flying at 60,000 feet. At this height, well over eleven miles up, I can clearly make out the curvature of mother earth, to which we will return long before a Boeing 747 would have even reached half distance across the North Atlantic. The horizon is unsharp. Hazy, in fact, with many colours of the spectrum visible. Above me, the sky is midnight blue. Many, many miles below I can see clouds that have taken on the appearance of a snow covered continent. I am very much aware that at this moment in time, my comrades and I are far closer to our maker than any other individual on the planet. Quite a thought!

As Concorde flies towards the edge of space, high above the weather, the thin air rushing past her slippery shape creates friction which heats up the fuselage, causing the aircraft to expand by more than eight inches. I touch my cabin window and it is really quite warm against my palm. Almost without noticing, the light of day is rapidly giving way to dusk and before we know it, we are flying in darkness. We are more than two thirds across the Atlantic and Captain Weiner slowly but surely begins the throttle back procedure because Concorde is not permitted to fly supersonic over inhabited land areas. As we gently descend, some passengers become a little restless, as if we are on Heathrow approach. But we are still at 40,000 feet. We drop our speed to Mach 0.95, back in the real world! Still further we decend.

Late

The plane is starting to feel ever slower and people are in the aisle looking for bits and pieces in the open overhead luggage compartments. But we are still doing 550 mph, the cruising speed of normal big jets. Hardly a sound is heard. It's as if we are gliding! Then we bank sharply to port, and I know that we are over Sidcup. My sister Jean lives there and she has the pleasure of seeing Concorde every day around five, if the weather is clear. But today we are very late and as the aircraft rolls I look out of my window into a pitch black sky.

Two minutes later and we are flying low over London. What a sight! All those lights! I can quite clearly pick out a number of landmarks including the 'London Eye' on the rivers' edge. Heathrow gets ever closer and as the main wheels make contact with runway 29R many of the passengers let out a hearty cheer. It was a very smooth touchdown. The four mighty engines are now roaring again, but in reverse thrust mode. Concorde not only takes off, but also lands at much higher speeds that conventional aircraft. Even so, in no time at all we are down to just 60 mph, and the effect of the heavy braking is pushing me forward in my seat.

The cabin emptys out rapidly, but I do not want to leave. Reluctantly I climb out of my seat and head for the exit at the front of the aircraft. One last look over my shoulder. The empty cabin looks great, beautifully finished. A final twist. As I am about to disembark, the steward hands me a surprise gift in a sky blue Concorde inscribed box and a Concorde Flight Certificate signed by the Captain, Ron Weiner.

And so ends my adventure of a lifetime.

C Gordon-Foxwell is a self confessed Concorde nut who finally (at the third time of asking) fulfilled his lifetime ambition just before the big white bird was taken from us. He can be contacted by email at cgordonfoxwell@msn.com

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