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STEWARDESS STORIES 29 Sept 25
1965. I came home for a weekend my junior year in college, noticed right away my different dad. Same man, altered TV habits. “Hi, Dad.”
He stared at the set, rechecked the channel, then his watch. A few seconds later, at 6:46, a full color commercial aired for National Airlines. A bikinied blonde waded out of surf showing more and more tantalizing tanned leg and less and less inhibition as she grew bigger and bigger on our new 24” screen. When her flesh took up 23 of them she flipped her hair, pouted, suggested flying National and bent over to pick up a sea shell. Her breasts spilled from her top, almost onto our living room carpet. The screen morphed to a National jet’s tail where the same girl’s face, now a logo, took it to the next level. She winked. “I’m Sally. Fly me.” It seemed to take…