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pg. 4

It was about 4 A.M. Unlike the others I was unable to sleep and seeing the hostess sitting alone at the rear of the plane I went back and sat beside her. She was quite attractive, smartly tailored and carried herself well, something I noticed in all airline hostesses. She was from Chicago and had been flying for about a year. She said the money was the biggest attraction and that the so-called glamour of the position wore off in short order. Yes, she had a boy friend, a sailor somewhere in the South Pacific, and when the war is over they intend getting married and then she'd quit her job.

Chyenne, Wyo. had a small quiet terminal and again we changed planes. As we took off, the sun came up a lighted the forbidding mountains below, covered with snow. The snow was a Reubens' pink and blended awesomely with the richer red of the eastern sky. Suddenly, like bursting blindly out of a smoke filled room in clear fresh air, the mountains stopped sharply and sprawled out before us was to the wide Salt Lake Valley in the center of which was Salt Lake City.

The pilot let down into a long low approach and shortly we were inside the air terminal. The latter was large and tastefully decorated, round and glass enclossed. We took advantage of the stop to wash up and comb and shake out our blouses.

After we had left Salt Lake we began climbing, higher than we had been before and at 12,000 feet it was noticeabe that some of the other pass^[[angers]]