Aboard Pan American's Flight 1. The airplane that starts every morning at 9 o'clock from San Francisco to fly around the world. By this afternoon, it will be into the next day.

This is the way to go to the sugar islands. On a gleaming bright morning. On a clean bright plane with freshly pressed stewardesses pouring hot, fresh coffee.

And the piped music already playing: "I'll weave a lei of stars for you ..."

Well, sir, what will it be like on Flight 1 when they seat us in here 490 passengers at a clip? (Pan Am has ordered 25 of these Boeing 747s).

"Theoretically, the jumbo jet can carry a passenger to Hawaii for about $50. Maybe less," said the airline man.

"They could fly you across the Atlantic for $75. Today planes break even if we fill them with 47 passengers in the 110 seats. But the jumbo jet will make money flying as little as 25 percent capacity.

"And this is just a beginning. There are planes beyond the drawing board state that will carry 900."

High over the blue Pacific. Six programs of music on the turn of the dial. Movies from Hollywood. Luncheon by Maxim's of Paris. Five hours to the land of pineapple and coco palms.

What will happen when we arrive in battalion strength? All 490 of us claiming baggage? Fighting for three-seat cabs?

The airline man said: "There'll be some sort of container system. You get a claim check that tells you which container has your baggage. You go to that area."

The plane will load through the nose. The whole nose area will hinge up and let the plane swallow that baggage container. Snap. Snap.

Steel guitar music slides through the earphones. Each note oozing like a golden drop of honey. "My wahine and me ..."

The $100 jet fare to Hawaii has jumped tourist traffic from 50,000 to 650,000 in the past 10 years.

For a long time, Hawaii tried to keep up the graceful tradition of dropping a flower lei on the neck of each arriving passenger.

It was too much. The original Hawaiian greeter quit. It was a good job," he said, when he used to meet the weekly ship, pass out leis and kiss the passengers. He had time to rest up between ships.

But with jets every half hour - "lips too tired," he said.

Now, if you want your friends greeted the old Hawaiian way, there's a commercial greeting service.

You wire ahead. For a fee, they send out a lei and genuine Hawaiian kisser. Auwe! Aloha!

On fabulous Waikiki, the hotels grow taller and taller. The tropical seaside gardens are filled with new shops - you can't afford to grow flowers on million-dollar land.

I think some day the ultimate 490 load of tourists will land here. And the island of Oahu will sink slowly like an overloaded rowboat.

But then there are the outer islands. Kauai, Maui, Lanai, Molokai and Hawaii, the Big Island.

"Jumbo jets will be flying into all the islands," said the airline man. "Honolulu will just be one of the airports."

"Aloha, sir," she said. (I got a lei because I was having a picture taken. It's in the rulebook here. You must wear a lei if you have a photo taken.)

The other 109 passengers hustled on through the airport. Thus getting all the taxis. We had to walk over to the inter-island terminal. {sbox}

This column originally appeared in The San Francisco Chronicle on April 25, 1966.