“My dad just used my mom’s ticket. No ID. Wrong name. It didn’t matter.”

"I'll add another story about flying in those days. Sometime in the mid-'70s, I was flying from Houston to Atlanta on a Sunday evening for a week of work in the Southeast, which was my sales territory at the time. It was a DC-10, and we took off with about nine people on a plane designed to hold 270. Two were first-class passengers and seven were in economy.

As we flew east, there was a line of huge thunderstorms just north of us lighting up the sky like fireworks. It was July 4 and a Sunday, so it must have been 1976. At any rate, the captain made an announcement inviting all of us to the first-class cabin, where he declared an open bar for the rest of the flight. So the nine of us had a stand-up cocktail party in first class, drinking the airline's free booze and watching God's fireworks display."

Note: Responses have been edited for length/clarity.