JFK AIRPORT DEPARTING FLIGHTS : DEPARTING FLIGHTS

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Jfk Airport Departing Flights


jfk airport departing flights
    jfk airport
  • John F. Kennedy International Airport is an international airport located in Queens County, on Long Island, in southeastern New York City. The airport is approximately from Lower Manhattan. It is the busiest international air passenger gateway to the United States.
    departing
  • (depart) deviate: be at variance with; be out of line with
  • (depart) leave; "The family took off for Florida"
  • Deviate from (an accepted, prescribed, or traditional course of action)
  • (depart) go: move away from a place into another direction; "Go away before I start to cry"; "The train departs at noon"
  • Leave, typically in order to start a journey
    flights
  • (flight) shoot a bird in flight
  • Shoot (wildfowl) in flight
  • (flight) an instance of traveling by air; "flying was still an exciting adventure for him"
  • (in soccer, cricket, etc.) Deliver (a ball) with well-judged trajectory and pace
  • (flight) fly in a flock; "flighting wild geese"
jfk airport departing flights - John F.
John F. Kennedy International Airport (Images of Aviation)
John F. Kennedy International Airport (Images of Aviation)
John F. Kennedy International Airport opened in 1948, after the realization set in that the newly built LaGuardia Airport was unable to handle the volume of air traffic for New York City. Pushed through by New YorkA’s Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia, the airport was to be located 14 miles from Manhattan, in Jamaica Bay, Queens, on the site of the old Idlewild Golf Course. For its first years, Idlewild Airport, as it was originally known, consisted of a low-budget temporary terminal and a series of Quonset huts. A major new building program began in the mid-1950s, and the airport rapidly changed from a ramshackle series of buildings into a glamorous-looking city. Renamed John F. Kennedy International Airport in 1963, it has now grown to cover 5,000 acres.

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TWA Flight 800 Crash Site
TWA Flight 800 Crash Site
The view from the TWA Flight 800 Memorial at Smith Point County Park in Long Island, July 15, 2003. On July 17, 1996, TWA flight 800 crashed 14 miles out to sea from this point. A marker at the memorial is a tragedy unto itself - telling the story in language that would make Elizabeth Barrett Browning blush. Better grab your in-flight barf bags before continuing... *********************** On the evening of July 17, 1996, as the setting summer sun began to silhouette the Manhattan skyline, Trans World Airlines Flight 800 departed from JFK International Airport on a non stop flight to Paris, France. Twelve minutes into the flight, at 8:31 p.m., as the Boeing 747 jumbo jetliner soared easily past the South Shore beaches of Long Island, at 400 miles per hour, a catastrophic tragedy overtook the 230 passengers and crew. As the plane climbed past an altitude of 13,000 feet, a fatal explosion of controversial origin occurred in the vicinity of the center fuel tank, rupturing the fuselage and setting the plane afire. For brief moments the doomed airliner continued in flight into the now darkening eastern sky. Then, in what onlookers would describe as a sudden fireball, the shining craft suffered a final explosion, shattering into a rain of flames and falling into the sea below. There were no survivors. Darkness set in as the fuel and wreckage burned across miles of the ocean's surface. At once, courageous men and women set out in small boats braving the flames in a desperate attempt at rescue. Within hours, families of those on board flight 800 began arriving, hoping for survivors, waiting in shock and grief on the Long Island shore. Then came the divers, strong and compassionate, risking their lives to relieve the suffering of strangers, they dove into still smoldering seas. In the hours and days that were to follow, thousands more joined the rescue efforts, and when they realized no rescue was possible, they turned with equal courage to the dangerous and painful work of recovering the lost. Valiant, heroic, they labored for many months, not resting until they had recovered and returned to the waiting families every loved one lost that night and almost the entire aircraft. A feat unprecedented in aviation history. Long will the world remember the compassion and the heroism shown on this ocean shoreline. And the years will not diminish the heartfelt gratitude of the families for the heroes of that dark time. Several days after the tragic end of Flight 800, a memorial service was planned. The sands of Smith Point Beach, overlooking the crash site, would allow the families to bid farewell to those they loved and lost that fateful night. Here, near to where those loved ones drew their last breath, more than a thousand surviving family members gathered to pray and grieve. Numbed by shock, and still struggling with disbelief, their tears, like rain, watered their sorrow upon these sands. In the weeks and months that followed, the families drew together to support one another, forming an association dedicated to the healing of grievous wounds and the rebuilding of shattered lives. In that effort, a year later, as the final recovered were at last identified, a thousand of the families from three continents journeyed again to this beach for memorial services. And on a warm summer evening, they were joined by 3000 of the courageous who labored to return to them their lost and find the truth of their tragic end. The enormity of life overwhelmed them all. Each gave solace to the other, sharing together tearful words and prayers, until the night itself called an end to their grieving. Consecrated by sorrow and anointed by tears, Smith Point Beach had become sacred ground. Following these services, the family association resolved to create a permanent memorial on this site - a positive expression of their grief, and a place of comfort, reconciliation, and healing, for the families and all those scarred by the catastrophe of Flight 800. For five years they undertook this great labor, helped by countless good people, just as they were in the aftermath. Now, softly sculpted into the beach's embrace, the memorial creates a peaceful space, apart, yet reaching out to that solemn place in the world's great sea. Here, draped in a rich garden mantle, offering a shelter of sweet fragrances and gentle grasses, there is a quiet to soothe the heart and whisper of the promise of life's hope. This memorial, a labor of love, is dedicated to the memory of the 230 unique and beautiful souls on Flight 800, and, as a lasting tribute to the brave, strong, and compassionate who came to the aid of strangers at a time of great need. Let all who suffer life's travails, rest, and find comfort here.
Day 17 - The Homeward Journey, Interrupted
Day 17 - The Homeward Journey, Interrupted
Saturday January 30, 2010 London/NYC Checked out of my hotel and checked into my flight to New York. I got very lucky at the airport. Unbeknownst to me my backpack fell off my luggage cart as I got off the elevator. A very nice man who was on the other side of the elevator bank saw it happen and saw me walking off and came running around to let me know I'd lost my bag. If it hadn't been for him I'd have lost my cameras, all my photos, my iPod and my phone. Thank heaven for nice people. On the plane I got seated next to a chatty fellow, but as soon as we took off I plugged my headphones into the plane's entertainment system to watch movies. I'm guessing I'm not a particularly hospitable person to sit next to on airplanes. If I don't know you then I don't really want to talk to you. Exceptions will be made for attractive women, of course. I'm not a complete boor. Given that the flight departed early in the morning, I didn't feel like sleeping and I was able to squeeze in three movies on the way to New York -- "Whip It," "Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian," and "Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs." Also watched a documentary about historical adventurers and explorers who could've served as the inspiration for Indiana Jones. That took up pretty much the entire flight and kept Mr. Yappy at bay. Upon arriving at JFK airport in New York and waiting out a verrrrrrry lengthy delay in getting my bag so I could clear it through customs, I found out that my connecting flight to DC was cancelled on account of snow. So much for getting home tonight. If I'd bothered to stop and think I'd have taken the air train to the NYC subway and then gone to Penn Station and caught the Amtrak home. As usual, I didn't stop and think however. Instead I booked a hotel through the airport reservations desk (another Holiday Inn this time) and went to wait out in the cold for the shuttle to come get me. I was determined not to squander my layover night in New York just lounging around my hotel room, so I had the concierge call me a cab despite the fact that it would cost me $60 each way to go into and out of the city. Also, it was 19 degrees outside (!!!) and all I had in terms of coldweather gear was a turtleneck, a stocking cap, and a very ligtht windbreaker. Yay for my brilliant packing skills. When the cab came it turned out to be a prom-style stretch limo. It cost the same as a cab though and it was cool to ride into the city in style and have people trying to peer through the tinted windows to see if someone famous was inside. Boy, would they have been disappointed. I had the driver drop me off at the TKTS booth in Times Square and I got in line to see if I could get a half-priced ticket to a Broadway show. After shivering myself silly standing in line I managed to get a seat for the musical "Memphis" and then set out to find myself something warmer to wear. I picked up a pair of gloves, a hooded I <3 NY sweatshirt, and finally tracked down a winter coat at a sporting goods store. I wound up spending more money during the few hours I was in New York than I did on nearly every other day of my trip combined. I was still full from the meal I'd eaten on the plane, so instead of going to a restaurant I just wandered from shop to shop in Times Square until it was time for the play to start. In retrospect, I should really have gone somewhere and gotten a few cups of coffee. Although the play was quite good with an excellent story and cast, due to my jet lag it was a constant struggle to stay awake. My body was still running on Tanzania time, which is eight hours ahead of New York. My chin dropped down to my chest and snapped back up so many times as I nearly nodded off that you'd have thought I was doing an impression of a bobblehead doll. After the play ended I made my way out to the street to hail a cab. Instead a towncar pulled up and at first I waved it off suspicously but the driver said he would take me back to the airport Holiday Inn no problem so I got in after all. As soon as I did two cops came running up and told the driver to turn off the car. Evidently limo and hired car drivers aren't allowed to pick up fares on the streets, only cabs can do that. I didn't know if I was supposed to get out of the car or stay in it or not, so I just sat in the back and kept my mouth shut. They were about to give the guy a hefty ticket but he managed to talk his way out of it by telling them that his uncle was a retired cop and showing them some sort of "get out of jail free" card that police officers apparently give to their family members. Eventually the cops waved us on and I got back to my hotel and collapsed into bed.

jfk airport departing flights
jfk airport departing flights
Wallmonkeys Peel and Stick Wall Graphic - Corridor in Jfk Airport - 24"W x 18"H
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