Doug Corrigan
I arrived at the New York Air ticket counter at 5pm on Saturday, February 14th, 1981. About 100 people were already in line ahead of me. The airline’s well publicized inaugural service from Boston to New York was slated for the following morning. Ten flights were scheduled for the day. As a marketing promotion, every seat was being offered to the public for the ridiculously enticing price of 29 cents round trip! I was only 16-years-old. My mother fully supported the solo adventure. All I would need to do is stand in line for the next 17 hours.
Thousands showed up at the ticket counter throughout the evening. New York Air’s DC-9s could carry slightly more than 100 people, which meant about 1000 seats would be sold. By 7pm, the terminal had become a raucous madhouse. Many arrived with sleeping bags, wine coolers, snacks and books to carry them through the night. I, on the other hand, possessed only a small travel bag and a change of clothing.
With dozens of fluorescent lights above, and a rock concert atmosphere, getting any sleep on the icy terrazzo floor was highly unlikely. My goal was to be on the first flight scheduled for 9am. However, after standing at the ticket counter for 16 hours, I came up short and missed getting on by only four seats. I would have to settle for the second flight at 10am.
The story made the front page of the Boston Globe on the morning of February 16th. An overhead picture taken of the terminal showed the throngs of people waiting patiently to get their tickets. Joan Bartley, co-owner of Bartley's Burger Cottage in Harvard Square, where I worked as a dishwasher, saw the picture. Scanning the photo, Mrs. B spotted me almost immediately. My haircut and the collar on my winter down jacket is what assured her it was me. When I returned the following week, she handed me the paper and said, “Corky, you made the front page of the Globe!”
I am still in touch with the Bartleys 44 years later. Last week I Facetimed Mrs. B to wish her a happy 93rd birthday. As we reminisced, I got to thank her once again for locating me on the front page. The Boston Globe picture is the only proof I have today of one of the most memorable stories from my youth.