Word: egorov
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Aeroflot teams had worked on the 122-passenger plane for three weeks. A select crew was picked, including Pilot Boris Egorov, 48, a veteran who holds the rank of Meritorious Flyer of the U.S.S.R. There were also four of the prettiest-all things being relative-stewardesses in Aeroflot's big (248,000 route miles) system. The stewardesses' first names were Maya, Gay, Lena and Natasha...
...Moscow's modern Sheremetyevo International Airport, where Aeroflot Official Aleksandr Besedin briefly spoke of a "new era" for the 46-year-old state airline, which has round-the-world aspirations. Then followed a wonderful Cossack sort of rush for the shining blue and white Ilyushin transport. Pilot Egorov had finished his session in Aeroflot's "prophylaxis" office, where, as all Aeroflot flyers must before every flight, he had taken a brief medical and psychiatric examination, and was making a walk-around inspection of the big aircraft. The 97 passengers crowded up the ramp, where their tickets were carefully...
Caviar, Tea or Vodka? At 10:55 a.m. Moscow time, Egorov fired up his four rear-mounted engines. Less than 20 minutes later we were airborne, cruising at 34,000 ft., doing 560 m.p.h. The tourist section, frankly, turned out to be roomier and more comfortable than tourist in most European and some American airlines. The six-across foamrubber seats had arms that lifted to provide a little extra room; pulling down the translucent smoked-plastic window shades was like putting on dark glasses. Soon after takeoff, the stewardesses came down with refreshments-tea from a family-sized aluminum...
...They stand idle," says Soviet Humorist Boris Egorov without much humor, "because no one understands how they were built or how to operate them. There are no repairmen or instruction books." As for the Russian lucky enough to own a car, he can forget about mechanics if it breaks down; there are so few of them that the state requires anyone wanting a driver's license to be able to take apart the engine and make basic repairs himself...
...return to life. With jovial inefficiency, the Russians shunted him from camp to camp, finally sent him off on a ramshackle freight train that wandered erratically for 33 days across six countries before setting him down at last in sunny Italy. The journey had its bits of humor: Captain Egorov, commander of a repatriation camp, met the news of an imminent general inspection by swathing the Augean public latrine in an impenetrable tangle of barbed wire. The journey also had its vestiges of horror: Daniele, a sole survivor of a Nazi raid on the Venice ghetto, put bread...