天空女王

I. The Boneyard Through the heat haze, airplane tails rose from the desert. As I steered off the interstate toward Pinal Airpark, in Marana, Arizona, I got my first view of a corpse in full: a stark-white Boeing 747, its wings sheared off, its passenger doors open to the dust and wind, a rickety set of airstairs inviting no one aboard. The plane was a memory, a ruin, but its swooping, humped nose was still striking— a visage that signaled the freedom of movement in the Jet Age. I was arriving at this desolate site north of Tucson, where airplanes go to die, to mourn the 747, the original jumbo jet— a.k.a. …