I found this ad in the July 28, 1967 issue of Life Magazine. It tickled me because – check it out – Mister Big Biznessman’s goin’ on a trip and his white-gloved honey has made sure she tucked a li’l fifth of his favorite bourbon right into his suitcase, right there next to the white shirts she so lovingly ironed (how many times must I tell you, light starch, honey – dammit, you know it makes my neck itch!).
Ya think he managed to get that by TSA in the hopes of gate-checking his bag so he could avoid the whole baggage claim circus on the far side? Did he seal it in a single, quart-sized Ziploc bag?
OH WAIT – this was the 1960s, a time when liquids in large containers could be carried willy-nilly throughout the airport. A time when flight attendants were called stewardesses and they had strict upper limits on their weight and age… when tickets were paper – not E – and full, hot meals were served on real plates with real forks and real knives… and suitcases didn’t yet have wheels, and a fella could keep his shoes and belt ON and his party could meet him right there at the gate instead of outside the secure zone…
…it was a time when a man was a MAN and by golly, he packed his very own Tuckaway Fifth on every business trip.
Hey you crazy kids, I’m unplugging for a few days. Not by choice, it’s just that I’m going to be someplace where there really isn’t any internet. Or it’s there but you have to go looking for it. I dunno how those people live there. And have I mentioned, really no cell service either? It’s like the freakin’ 1950s where I’ll be. There are drive-ins and carhops and jukeboxes and “rebels” in leather jackets and girls in poodle skirts, and party lines and cars with fins and…
And when I say “not by choice,” it’s very much my choice to be going where I’ll be. I just wish I could plug in the laptop and connect to the internet. Although a break is probably a good thing. Right?
For both of us.
Anyway. Don’t forget about me, OK? Check back next weekend and I should have updates and stories and fresh blog fodder.
I don’t have time now for a full post, and I have so much I want to share about Virginia Blogfest weekend. It’s all simmering inside the pressure-cooker that is my brain… when it’s fork-tender, I’ll lift it out and serve it up. Till then, I”ll leave you with this photo, taken on a beach cove on Gwynn’s Island, Saturday night. It’s true what they say – the more, the merrier. And oh, were we ever merry.