IMRAN Like most young boys (well, at least in the 60's, when I was born, one did not hear young girls wanting to fly) I had always dreamt of flying, becoming a pilot, actually a Fighter Pilot in the Pakistan Air Force. Fortunately (or unfortunately) that did not happen, and I got to lead a very interesting and exciting life. Because my father was an engineer working for the Irrigation Department in Pakistan, he was posted to very remote places, with no good (or ANY) schools around.
So I ended up leaving home at 6 (years of age, NOT 6 A.M.), moving to Karachi. I was therefore fortunate enough, especially considering that I was living in a (sadly, 30 years later, STILL) developing country but got to fly at that age. I would fly (Karachi-Lahore), which in itself was a big thing back then, but to fly "alone", as an unaccompanied child who got to ask all the questions of the flight crews of the Boeing 707 and similar passenger jet aircraft of the time.
That was the first time I got to sit in a window seat, and now, 33 years later, I am fortunate that I have probably flown a million air miles, and always in a window seat. Yes, we men never grow up over our boyhood passion for looking at the wings below our windows, seeing the flight controls do their magic, watching the reverse thrusters shudder and scream, as they do their best to bring the hurtling mass of steel, from100 mph* to zero, after landing.