When I was a kid in my 20's I was flying home for Christmas on a milk run airlines called Ozark airlines. When we departed Joplin, MO late night I was the only passenger aboard the DC-3. The flight crew, pilot, co-pilot and a single stewardess invited me forward for coffee. About five minutes out we got a call from Joplin radio. An old lady had dozed off and missed the flight. We circled back, landed and picked her up and then continued the flight.
That's the difference, I think, Blackdog is talking about. And how many stories like this one did that grand old lady have to tell when she went to the scrap heap?
But nothing lasts forever, not even us, no matter how badly we may want it to.
Uncle Bill