july 8–21, 2019 | new york 13Before heading downstairs, I hop back in
the pool to gird myself for the 90-minute
drive home. I strike up a conversation with
Jeff, a middle-aged man in bright-blue sun-
glasses who’s been in the pool for most of
the day. Jeff has the same dreamy tone as
Betty and Spencer and Jack and Laurie and
Gil and Dave. JFK may be a Lynchian
nightmare for almost all of us, but for just
enough people to fit on one tiny rooftop, it’s
the most heavenly place in the world. “I
love planes,” says Jeff, sipping his cocktail.
“I flew to Lima for a weekend just for the
plane ride. I’m getting ready for an 11-hour
flight right now, and I can’t wait. I just
really love being completely sealed off from
the rest of the world.” ■I ask her where she thinks a Singapore Air-
lines flight is going, and she studies me.
“Probably to Singapore,” she says.
I dry off next to a group of older women
from Long Island in large sun hats, who are
here celebrating a retirement. “We’re
friends from before the original TWA
opened!” says Betty, the retiree, whose
energy could power several jetliners. “We
were going to stay at the hotel overnight,
but we didn’t, because of the reviews,” her
friend Carol says conspiratorially.
Carol’s friend, also named Carol, looks
directly into my eyes. “I’m here in spite
of my ex-husband, because he used
to work for TWA,” she says. “He was just
ground services.”
“ When I saw this
today, I teared
up. I could
smell the jet
fuel instantly.”