Millennium Celebration in Paris     4/23/2021  Houston

It was late December, 1999. I looked at my schedule and saw that, of course, I had a trip to Paris that would make sure I was far away from home for the New Year’s. Then I thought of it: What if I invited Koky, my wife, to come along? Instead of a three-day trip, we had an additional day for our layover. That would be a lot of fun.

Koky was the manager of the Service Center where she worked, and when I told her of my idea, she sighed and told me that all managers were required to work on those days. She looked sad, but instantly added: “But you could invite your Mom!”

“Hey!” I shouted, “That’s a great idea!” and immediately called her on the phone to ask her if she'd like to go to Paris with me to ring in the new Millennium. 

“Oh, WOULD I !?!?!” she exclaimed, agreeing to it before I could say another word.

The next day being our departure date, we went to check her in. A gate agent I knew was working the flight, and he learned that I was taking my mother to Paris. Before I knew what hit me, he quietly slipped a First Class boarding pass into my hand, and wished me a Bon Voyage!

Now I have always been proud of Continental Airlines’ overall service, and especially our Business First, but the word got passed from the Gate Agent to the crew that my mother was coming aboard. I knew each and every member of that crew for several years, and knew that they would treat my Mom well, but from the moment she stepped onto the plane, my mother became EVERYONE’s mother. 

The QUEEN OF ENGLAND only wishes she could be treated as lovingly and as kindly as Mom was at the hands of my coworker friends. 

We enjoyed those two days in Paris immensely. It suddenly occurred to me that, in all my travels, I had never once invited my Mom to come along with me - even if it was a short trip. But this time I made up for all that as we stood among an international throng of revelers and watched the fireworks light up the Eiffel Tower from right across the Seine River. 

On the way back, it turned out that the flight was full. I had expected that and just hoped Mom would at least get on somewhere in Economy Class. We waited in line for our turn at the ticket counter. Employee pass riders are always taken care of last, as it should be, giving the best seats and preference to those who pay our bills.

Suddenly I got a tap on my shoulder. It was our Captain. 

”Hey, Kenny,” he asked, “What are you doing in the Economy Class line?” 

“Oh, we’re full,” I told him, “So there’s no way at all that she’ll get up to First Class.”

That’s when the Captain got upset: “Oh, NO! That’s just NOT ACCEPTABLE!” and he stormed up to the front of the line. 

Peggy, a very nice French gate agent I have seen many, many times before on my decade of coming to Paris, was swamped. Lots of folks to get checked in and accommodated, and very little time to do it. She was the one, in fact, who told me earlier that she could not get me First Class. She would have, if she could; this I know.

The Captain, visibly upset, went straight up to Peggy and said: “Why is Ken’s mother not in First Class??!”

“Well, Monsieur,” she answered quietly, “It is that we have so many passengers, so it is not possible…”

The Captain cut her off in mid-sentence and looked her right in the eye and commanded: “I am the CAPTAIN; FIX IT!” 

Peggy was startled, but she went right to her screen without a further word. In less time than that confrontation with the Captain took place, I received a tap on the shoulder. It was Peggy, holding a First Class Boarding Ticket in her hand. She smiled at me and told my mother “Bon Voyage.” 

Of course, my mother was treated once again to a warm hospitality that only friendship can bring, and the flight was yet another great part of a fantastic but all too short trip.

A week or so after the flight I got my photos developed, and I made a scrapbook for her, including tickets, receipts and other memorabilia. I went over for a visit to give her the binder full of memories, and she got teary-eyed. 

“You have no idea how much this trip has meant to me!” she said, and for a long time after that she still would mention the trip in conversation.

Then came the bad news that my mother had passed away. We were close, so the pain of loss was great. At the memorial service, her friends and fellow church members came up to me and said: “You know, Kenny, you just have no idea how much that trip meant to her. You know, she had this scrapbook and she brought it many times and showed us the pictures you took in Paris.”

Almost as painful as her loss was having to clean up and dispose of her belongings some time later. Among the items I found that touched my heart was the light green 3-ring binder that I used to make her scrapbook. I took it home where it and the cherished memories it contains will remain for as long as I live.