The Golden Age of Travel

I bought these postcards at a gift shop while aboard the Queen Mary last week.  I can't stop thinking about her and what a luxurious experience in must have been to travel to Europe this way.  Can you imagine arriving at a far flung destination well-rested, well-fed, and already adjusted to the time change?  The romantic in me longs for such an experience; the pragmatist reminds me that such trips were made only once.  Now I can fly to Europe every year with free miles or discounted fares found on late night web surfing binges.

I hate the experience though.  Getting from Point A to Point B is fodder for a horror movie.  The humiliation of body searches.  Crammed seats.  Germs.  Smelly toilets.  Not to mention disorientation upon arrival and jet lag three days thereafter.  I try really hard to make the journey pleasant.  I carry a good book, fuzzy socks and buy tiny bottles of booze.  It gets me through the ordeal, but "pleasant"?  Not.

The Queen Mary made her final voyage in 1967, calling at Lisbon, Rio de Janeiro, rounding Cape Horn and then stopping at Acapulco before her final resting place at Long Beach.  I bought this beautiful black nightgown at a vintage shop in Los Angeles.  Mimi swears it was worn by a woman who  took this final cruise.  "Sure, why not!" I say.  "It's as close as I'm going to get."