So, so hard to say goodbye
My heart breaks to say “goodbye” to our own old airport — you could never be replaced in my cherished memories.
I remember my first trip to Bermuda in August 1968 like it was yesterday. As the aircraft door opened and I descended the stairs to the tarmac, I could feel the warm sunshine on my face, and the sweet smell of sea air. It was heaven!
The terminal was so quaint, and what a warm welcome I received — like saying hello to an old friend. It was the same feeling every time I returned; almost like coming home.
The airport had a small lounge then, very romantic. A perfect place to have a tearful, farewell drink with our friends. It became a tradition to have Planter’s Punch, now replaced by rum swizzle.
On our return to the island this past April, we were greeted inside the terminal by a man playing steel-drum music. What a treat! It brought a lot of memories back of when we would go to the hotels and bars to hear the Esso Steel Band, The Stealers and The Strollers play. I still have all their albums.
I have seen the unfinished, ultra-modern new airport. I will always cherish my memories of my arrivals and departures and the photo attached from 1968.
In our rapidly changing world, it would be nice if things could stay the same! RIP the old airport!
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