Back in 1968 or '69 a college buddy and I decided to spend a boys-will-be-boys weekend visiting his family in Dallas and getting in a little skydiving at a new drop zone along with a morning of pistol shooting at the target range.
So I dropped my target pistol in a carry-on along with a couple of boxes of ammo. We packed our parachutes and carried them with us into the cabin of a Braniff jet for the flight to Dallas.
Nobody looked in our bags, of course, and we only got some jokes from the stewardesses (they were called that, then) for bringing parachutes on the plane.
The youngsters don't believe me until I explain that this was three years before DB Cooper pulled his parachute/hijack stunt and four years before US airlines began mandatory baggage checks and metal detecting.
Okay, they reluctantly accept that we could carry guns and parachutes on planes back then, but they REALLY decide I'm a bald- faced liar when I tell them that as soon as the plane leveled out we reclined our seats, stretched out our legs ... and lit up cigarettes.
Now they know grandpa's a liar, because even the youngest know there's no leg room in coach.
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