Aboard the Final Flight of a Space-Age Icon

Oct. 24, 2003 -- It was 5 o'clock in the morning in the Concorde departure lounge at New York's Kennedy Airport and you could already feel the excitement. Even before the champagne was served.

Helpful British Airways employees took your overcoat or trench coat or ski jacket and asked for your seat number on board. Your coat would miraculously reappear in London at the end of the flight.

Then you joined a group of mostly men: tycoons and investment bankers and regular Concorde fliers. Many were thumbing through the Wall Street Journal or Financial Times, looking nonchalant. But almost everyone was carrying a camera.

Lord Marshall, the BA chairman, was there smiling and greeting the people who would fill the 100 seats, all invited guests. He would speak before boarding and tell the crowd how sorry he was that Concorde was being retired, but that the decision was necessary.

The celebrities began to arrive. British model Jodie Kidd, blond and tall — very tall — just loves Concorde. So does Christie Brinkley, arriving with her husband and looking like she had just come from a salon. The last to sweep in was Joan Collins.

Then it was time to board.

Desperate For Memories

Despite its $6,000 fare (one way) the Concorde is surprisingly cramped. The cabin is only nine feet across and the seats are about the same size as economy class, but with more leg room, and covered in rich, dark gray leather.

We all made our way slowly to the seats, but a party atmosphere had already developed. Passengers stuffed anything that said Concorde into their carry-on bags — even the safety instruction card.

Pink champagne was handed round by smiling cabin attendants and we all buckled up for takeoff.

The reporters were in the back of the two-cabin aircraft. Jodie Kidd sat behind me. Christie Brinkley and Joan Collins and Sir David Frost were in the front cabin, which was much quieter.

Champagne glasses emptied and Concorde roared into its takeoff roll, a slight G-force pushing us back in our seats as it accelerated down the runway. Kennedy airport workers stopped to wave at BA 002's final departure. It was 7:37 a.m.

Everyone was slightly manic with the history of the moment and the exhilaration of takeoff. Happy voices rose in volume. More champagne was delivered and it was then that people realized there was no point in stealing the glasses because they carried no Concorde logo. Flight attendants said most, if not all, had been stolen since April when Concorde's retirement was announced. Some are offered now on eBay.

To the Speed of Sound

Twenty-five minutes into the flight, the "Mach Meter" which notes speed and altitude registered Mach 1, the speed of sound. Another half-hour later, it pushed to Mach 2 at 54,500 feet. There were cheers.

It was time to eat and British Airways offered a "Last Concorde" special breakfast. It offered three champagnes, including Pol Roger Cuvee Churchill (as in Winston) 1986.

The first course was Scottish smoked salmon arranged to look like roses, with a big dollop of crème fraîche in the middle topped by caviar.

There were several choices for the next course: a mixed grill including pancetta-wrapped filet; wild mushroom and truffle omelette with grilled tomato and hash browns; lobster fish cakes with bloody mary sauce; and fruit and yogurt.

Jodie Kidd had the omelette.

For dessert there was buttermilk panna cotta. Then a cheese course.

It was so busy where we were I never got dessert or coffee.

Return to the Ordinary

Passengers were now wandering the aisles trading Concorde stories or lamenting its passing. Those of us from television were doing on-camera reports in front of the "Mach Meter," which unfortunately blocked access to the lavatories for the other passengers. A long line soon developed.

Richard Hayden, an American who lives in London and is chairman of a private investment fund, talked about Concorde as a business tool when the financial business was booming in the 1980s and 1990s. "Time was money," he said. "You had to travel as fast as your competitors just to stay even."

Lord Marshall walked the aisle, still smiling. He was approached by businessman Sir Ken Warren who told him, "The service is lousy. I'm never flying this plane again." Sir Ken then issued a loud guffaw.

As we neared the other side of the Atlantic, the mach meter began to go down. Before long Capt. Mike Bannister, Concorde's chief pilot who has flown the plane for 21 years, began describing our arrival in London. Bannister has been more than nostalgic about the plane he loves. He likens the graceful craft to a thoroughbred race horse.

Flanked by two other Concordes, we began our final approach. Bannister told us to enjoy the "historic moment."

The other passengers began expressing amazement at the thousands who had come to watch it land. When the wheels touched down, as fire engines saluted with a water display, every passenger broke into applause.

Concorde had been a sleek symbol of the future when I first flew it in 1976. It was still sleek at the end, carrying the aura of adventure and romance. And after today, mass travel by air has become simply ordinary.