This month marked a significant yet depressing period in aviation history.
The final Boeing 747 ever produced rolled out of the hanger at Boeing's factory in Everett, Washington, just outside Seattle, after 53 ground-breaking years and more than 1,570 airframes.
The 747 is the plane of commercial aviation, and it will soon be handed to freight operator Atlas Air.
If you ask someone who doesn't know anything about aircraft to name one, they'll undoubtedly respond "jumbo jet," the moniker given to this famous figure in aviation history.
Over the course of its 53-year existence, the 747 changed commercial aviation.
The size of the aircraft made international travel more accessible to those who couldn't previously afford it due to scale economies.
Cities all over the world were brought closer together by its unmatched range, and its scale allowed the industry to offer new comforts to those who could afford the most expensive seats.
It was a whole new game for pilots.
Four-engine aircraft were already in existence, but the 747's size and height of the flight deck fundamentally altered what was thought to be feasible.
This plane was a mainstay of international travel for someone like me growing up in the 1980s.
The 747 dominated the Atlantic sky when traveling to the U.S. with family, whether it was on PanAm, United, British Airways, or Virgin Atlantic.
So it comes as no surprise that the 747 played a significant role in fueling my love of aviation and motivating me to become an airline pilot.
Airport as a child for me
When my father would pick up friends or family from Heathrow Airport as a kid, I was always excited to accompany him (LHR).
We could drive to the top of Terminal 3's parking lot and observe the arriving and leaving aircraft if we arrived early enough, which is why I insisted on doing so.
I would roll down the window as we emerged from the tunnel connecting the highway with the airport's main terminal to take in the sights, sounds, and smells.
The Jet A-1's kerosene-based fuel had an awful odor, and the aircraft's noise was unimaginable back then when aircraft had less effective engines in terms of fuel usage and noise.
In spite of the fact that I was unable to see the planes at the time, I was aware of their presence.
I'd catch a glimpse of a tail fin here and an engine there as we wound our way through the maze of roads (that hasn't changed, that's for sure), hear the roar of engines revving up for takeoff, and see the silhouettes of aircraft rising away from the ground in the distance.
My head would now be out the window like an eager dog anticipating a walk as my father wound the car around those narrow spirals up to the top level of the parking lot. As we emerged onto the roof.
I couldn't name many different types of aircraft back then, but I was familiar with the 747.
These aircraft would have included a variety of 747s across the entire spectrum, according to my age at the time.
The original 747, which began service in 1970, might still be in use with certain carriers, while the 747-400, the newest variant at the time, might have just been introduced by others.
As a result, the majority of the 747s I saw would have been the 747-200, also referred to as the "Classic."
They dwarfed every other kind of aircraft in their vicinity and appeared majestically strong.
I would enjoy every second of the ear-buzzing noise as each engine began up as I watched them pull away from the gate.
When I was on the flight deck, I would gaze out the windows and think about how amazing it must be to be seated there with all that power and technology at my disposal, planning the journey and the experiences that were ahead.
I had no idea that I would eventually have personal experience with it.
London to Los Angeles
We took a 747-400 flight to California for a family vacation while I was in my early teens.
My fascination with aircraft and aviation by that point had turned into an obsession.
My usual after-school hobby was playing Microsoft Flight Simulator, but if I could, I would also visit the airport to see the planes.
My friend's father, a 747-400 captain at the time, advised me to ask the cabin staff if I might visit the flight deck.
He assured me that the pilots would undoubtedly be pleased to have me in their office and that, with any hope, they would let me stay for takeoff (which was conceivable in those days before 9/11).
I received the pilot's OK to enter the flying deck, so I grinned widely at my loved ones before beginning the seemingly never-ending ascent to the upper deck of the aircraft.
Into the flight deck
I had never been to the flight deck of a 747, much less the top deck, of an aircraft until this moment.
My excitement was so intense that I struggled mightily to contain it.
When we reached the top of the steps, I looked back toward the front of the aircraft and didn't even notice the galley that was in front of me. Instead, I noticed the sparkle of light that was the flight deck door at the front of the upper-deck cabin.
The captain beckoned for me to take a seat in the observer's seat behind his as I approached the door and was greeted by three pilots with wide smiles.
I had seen several pictures of this flight deck, and I had experienced even more while playing Flight Simulator, so to really be there among all the controls and switches was incredible.
I was eager to stay longer in this amazing location, so while we talked, I kept trying to make the session last longer by asking more and more questions.
Imagine my shock when the captain requested that I stay for takeoff.
I'm not sure whether I managed to answer, but I believe the emotion on my face spoke for itself.
Before I knew it, the door was shut behind me, and I was given a headset to wear.
The two pilots at the controls then gradually increased their departure flow.
It seemed more like the gate and the entire terminal building were moving away from us as we retreated from it.
I was quite astonished by the complete lack of any noise increase when the engines kicked on.
I was almost disappointed not to hear the thunderous roar of the engines on the flight deck because I was so accustomed to hearing it from the top of the parking lot.
Anyone who has experienced flying in the nose of a 747 can vouch for this.
The actual size of the beast only became clear to me when the captain mentioned that the engines were situated roughly 20 meters (65 feet) below the flight deck.
If the engines were 20 meters distant, my parents must be at least 50 meters (164 feet) away—nearly as far as the soccer fields I spent most Sundays on.
We started to taxi toward the runway as the engines rumbled and I could hear the incomprehensible buzz of air traffic control.
I observed the captain advance the thrust levers, but despite this, there wasn't much more noise made; instead, I could only detect a faint sense of power as we slowed down.
Taxi to runway
The captain expertly guided the plane through a series of bends until we arrived at a 90-degree turn to the right while I observed the two pilots debating the taxi route.
The plane didn't turn when I kept expecting it to.
Under my nose, the paved area that had been in front of me vanished, leaving just grass behind.
Even so, we continued to press forward.
I was certain the pilots had made a mistake at this moment.
Since we had gotten onto the grass, we were now stuck.
How could we escape?
The entire room abruptly lurched to the right with a stunning lurch.
As I struggled to process what was occurring, the armrest dug into my side and forced my body to the left.
I was in awe when I saw the taxiway's yellow line directly in front of us.
We had arrived at the corner.
Later, the captain clarified that the 747-400's main wheels are 25 meters (82 feet) behind their vantage position on the flight deck.
As a result, they must make a sharp turn before swinging the aircraft around to make a 90-degree turn.
Although it appears that the plane is on the grass, in reality, the nose wheel is still quite a distance from the grass.
Even now, I occasionally go back on this recollection, especially when I taxi the longer variants of the 787.
We were given the go-ahead to line up and wait for our turn to depart as we moved closer to the runway.
I can still clearly recall looking out of that left-side window and observing the white lettering "27R" painted on the ground and the asphalt strip fading into the distance.
We were positioned in a straight line gazing down that seemingly endless road after another powerful swing of the aircraft.
Ready.
My exhilaration was at an all-time high.
As soon as those push levers reached their full forward position, the four Rolls-Royce RB211 engines' raw power would be felt by us.
Then it took place.
The captain moved all four of the enormous thrust levers slightly forward as soon as we were given the go-ahead for departure.
The first whining of the 787's takeoff engine is replaced by a smooth, effective hum.
The engines are so sophisticated that pilots seldom even notice their presence.
On a 747, though, you know when the pilots turn on takeoff power.
The same whiny opening is followed by a strong, deep purr.
It is unadulterated and animalistic.
It's serious business.
Takeoff
When the power came on, there was a brief hiccup, but we soon started moving.
All four of us jumped in our seats as a result of the thumps produced by each runway light that passed beneath the nose wheel and resonated throughout the entire flight deck.
The separate, distinct bumps changed into a continuous vibration as the pace rose, becoming one bump after another.
Looking out the window, we seemed to be traveling very slowly even though I could see our speed increasing on the screens.
The enormous size of the aircraft was once again a factor in this.
Just a little bit more than 8 meters (26 feet) above the earth, the pilot's eye level is found on the flight deck of a 747.
The third-floor windows of the building are at the same level as this.
The sense of speed dramatically decreases with that elevation.
The entire experience was slow and nearly royal rather than hurried and frenetic.
The first officer shouted "rotation," and the captain slowly retracted his grip on the control column as they approached the runway's end.
Initially, nothing appears to happen, but as the aircraft swung around its 16 main wheels, the tail dipped closer to the runway and the nose wheel rose off the ground.
The greater angle of attack of the wings combined with the additional lift allowed us to lift off the ground while the deep purr from behind propelled us in the direction of Los Angeles.
I became enthralled, amazed, and captivated.
I no longer desired to be a pilot; rather, I was determined to do so.
In conclusion
Many people have a special affection for the 747.
Some were given the privilege to fly them as pilots, while others rode them as passengers.
Although I never had the chance to pilot the aircraft, it gave me the desire to do so.
The 747 will continue to fly for many years to come, despite Boeing having constructed its final one.
Few airlines continue to employ them for passenger flights, and even fewer do so because of their enormous freight capacity.
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