of bed?"
My adventures. The first few years that's exactly what they were for me, adventures. Adventures in crime, of course, but adventures nonetheless.
I kept a notebook, a surreptitious journal in which I jotted down phrases, technical data, miscellaneous information, names, dates, places, telephone numbers, thoughts and a collection of other data I thought was necessary or might prove helpful.
It was a combination log, textbook, little black book, diary and airline bible, and the longer I operated, the thicker it became with entries. One of the first notations in the notebook is "glide scopes." The term was mentioned on my second deadhead flight and I jotted it down as a reminder to learn what it meant. Glide scopes are runway approach lights used as landing guides. The journal is crammed with all sorts of trivia that was invaluable to me in my sham role. If you're impersonating a pilot it helps to know things like the fuel consumption of a 707 in flight (2,000 gallons an hour), that planes flying west maintain altitudes at even-numbered levels (20,000 feet, 24,000 feet, etc.) while east-bound planes fly at odd-numbered altitudes (19,000 feet, 27,000 feet, etc.), or that all airports are identified by code (LAX, Los Angeles; JFK or LGA, New York, etc.).
Little things mean a lot to a big phony. The names of every flight crew I met, the type of equipment they flew, their route, their airline and their base went into the book as some of the more useful data.
Like I'd be deadheading on a National flight.
"Where you guys out of?"
"Oh, we're Miami-based."
A sneak look into my notebook, then: "Hey, how's Red doing? One of you's gotta know Red O'Day. How is that Irishman?"
All three knew Red O'Day. "Hey, you know Red, huh?"
"Yeah, I've deadheaded a couple of times with Red. He's a great guy."
Such exchanges reinforced my image as a pilot and usually averted the mild cross-examinations to which I'd been subjected at first.
Just by watching and listening I became adept in other things that enhanced my pose. After the second flight, whenever I was offered a pair of earphones with which to listen in on airline traffic, I always accepted, although a lot of pilots preferred a squawk box, in which case no earphones were needed.
I had to improvise a lot. Whenever I'd deadhead into a city not used by Pan Am, such as Dallas, and didn't know which motels or hotels were used by airline crews, I'd simply walk up to the nearest airline ticket counter. "Listen, I'm here to work a charter that's coming in tomorrow. Where do the airlines stay around here?" I'd ask.
I was always supplied with the name or names of a nearby inn or inns. I'd pick one, go there and register, and I was never challenged when I asked that Pan Am be billed for my lodging. All they asked was Pan Am's address in New York.
At intervals I'd hole up in a city for two or three weeks for logistics purposes. I'd open an account in, say, a San Diego bank, or a Houston bank, giving the address of an apartment I'd rented for the occasion (I always rented a pad that could be had on a month-to-month basis), and when my little box of personalized checks arrived, I would pack up and take to the airways again.
I knew I was a hunted man, but I was never sure how closely I was being pursued or who was in the posse those first two years. Any traveling con man occasionally gets the jitters, certain he's about to be collared, and I was no exception. Whenever I got a case of the whibbies, I'd go to earth like a fox.
Or with a fox. Some of the girls I dated came on pretty strong, making it apparent they thought I was marriage material. I had a standing invitation from several to visit them in their homes for a few days and get to know their parents. When I felt the need to hide out, I'd drop in on the nearest one and stay for a few days or a week, resting and relaxing. I hit it off well with the parents in every instance. None of them ever found out they were aiding and abetting a juvenile delinquent.
When I felt the situation was cool again, I'd take off, promising the particular girl that I'd return soon and we'd talk about our future. I never went back, of course. I was afraid of marriage.
Besides,