I'll never forget my first plane ride - or let's say, I'll never remember it. I was flying from L.A. to Frisco, a trip that would require less than an hour in the clouds. The year was 1967, approximately, and I was headed up the coast again, possibly in search of the self I had left there on a previous trip.

Before dropping me at the airport, my friends dosed me with the psychedelic LSD, but before I could thank them they were gone. In fact, after the chemicals took hold of my brain, I too was gone. I don't know where I went. I don't recall boarding the plane, and I don't remember un-boarding it.

All I remember of that day was the stewardess, trying to get my attention, standing over my aisle seat, mouthing words that were so many empty carton balloons wafting past me. "Sir, we've landed, it's time to disembark," was what she was saying, I now understand.

What! I wasn't sure I even spoke the word. What was she saying to me? We've landed? Jesus, I didn't even remember taking off. But then I looked around and saw no one else onboard; there was only this lone woman and me. To put it mildly, I was shocked. Apparently she wasn't even fazed; to her it was all part of some harmless flight pattern she'd memorized. "Southwest would like to thank you for flying with us," she stood at attention, waiting for me to do something.

"Eh, just where are we?" is all I could wonder.

"Why, San Francisco of course, sir. We landed on schedule just a little over fifteen minutes ago."

"But that's impossible! You've got to be putting me on. I mean, this is my first flight, yet I didn't see any clouds or birds or runways or anything! Where was the air?"

"Oh, why didn't you say it was your first flight" came the incredible replay. "Indeed. just a moment!" And away she flew.

It's impossible to say how long she was gone, but upon return she had a diploma in her hand. "Here you are, sir, signed by the Captain." My God, she was handing me a First Flight Certificate! Again I was shocked; and again she wasn't.

To this day, remembering the surreal encounter, I wonder how the poor dear overlooked the fact I was so stoned and disoriented that I hadn't even realized we took off, flew 400 miles, and landed an hour later. Yet I still sat there, grinning into her big blue eyes, unaware that anything of the kind had occurred. If anyone deserved a certificate for first flights that day. it was she.