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But the real magic happened at 60,000 feet. Up there, the sky didn't look blue; it looked like deep indigo, almost black. You could see the actual curve of the Earth. Arthur would sit in seat 1A, sipping room-temperature champagne (the windows got too hot to chill anything), watching the world blur beneath him.

First, there was the noise. When Arthur first fired up the four Olympus engines for a private test flight, he broke every window in a three-mile radius. The local council sent him a bill that looked like a telephone number. buy a concorde jet

Then, there was the heat. Flying at Mach 2.0 meant the air friction was so intense the fuselage would actually stretch. After his first transatlantic sprint, Arthur noticed the cabin was nearly a foot longer than when he’d started. He panicked, thinking the plane was melting, only for his pilot to laugh. "She’s just breathing, Arthur. She’ll shrink back when she cools down." But the real magic happened at 60,000 feet