"Emirates Airline has placed the largest single order in airline history, worth $31.7 billion, for Airbus A380s and A350XWBs. A second order with Boeing for 777s brought the morning's total business up to $34.9 billion. The plan includes orders and options for 11 Airbus A380s, 120 A350XWBs and 12 Boeing 777s. The 93 firm orders (81 for Airbus, 12 for Boeing) alone are worth some $23.4 billion. Emirates now has a total orderbook of 246 aircraft, worth more than $60 billion.

"HH Sheikh Ahmed commented, "Dubai's development strategy will bring heavy traffic into this part of the world. Media City, Aviation City, Heath City, the Sports City -- all those people need to be connected to Dubai and to the world. Emirates needs new aircraft to support all the new projects in Dubai-- to catch up with His Highness Sheikh Mohammed and everything that he is doing. And this is not the end of it. Emirates will buy more aircraft."

"The scale of Emirates' latest Airbus order is simply colossal. The agreement covers firm orders for 50 A350-900s and 20 A350-1000s, plus 50 options for A350-900s. Emirates firmed up orders for eight A380s on which it had earlier signed Letters of Intent, but also placed another three firm orders to bring its A380 fleet up to 58.

"Emirates order for the A350XWB is a breakthrough for Airbus and a serious defeat for Boeing's all-conquering 787. Boeing and General Electric have been unwilling or unable to develop the 787-10 version that Emirates feels its needs and in the completely revised A350XWB Emirates has found an aircraft that it likes.

Although this day for some is an opportunity to again wave the flag and go into a jingoistic swoon, this day is for you, from me, very personally to say thank you for being there with me those many decades ago now. All bullshit aside, it was you, or someone like you, who laid awake all night on LP while I slept in that cold wet highland jungle. It was you, or someone like you, who shared your cigs and warm beer with me on log day. It was you, or someone like you, who volunteered to be my shotgun man and walk point with me. It was you, or someone like you, who saw my hesitation on some of those days when certain death was just a short stroll down an overgrown trail, ten thousand miles from home. You said back then, "It don't mean nothin'." And I smiled back and said, "Well, if you can't get out of it, get into it."

Today means something to me, Bebop. It's not about flags and parades and all those phony yellow ribbons. Those things, on this day, are an insult, not appreciation. I'd rather that those who wave flags, march in parades and plaster yellow ribbons on cars and trees would spread their good intentions over all the days of the year and actually do some good, rather than just feeling good, for a couple of hours each November 11.

Today for me, is to say to you, and to my father who froze and fought and bled in the Ardennes in WW II, and to all those who put themselves in harm's way perhaps for country, but more for each other, I appreciate what you did.

When I was seven my mom and dad took me to the county fair and there was this great ride, just for kids my age. It was like the "Octopus" ride, only smaller, and each individual pod was like an airplane with a propeller. I was so excited. I saw the kids flying high in their little airplanes as they went around in a circle high above me.

The carny strapped me in and told me, "You lift the bar here in your lap to make it go up, and pull the bar down to come down." I was eager. I was going to fly!

The ride started up and around and around we went. I lifted the bar as instructed. Nothing happened. While the other kids in the other pods were flying high, and going up and down and round and round, there I was, at ground level, going round and round, grunting with all my might to lift the bar that wouldn't budge.

My mom and dad would yell at me every time I came around, "Lift the bar! The man said lift the bar!" I was so frustrated. The bar would not move and the other kids were having so much fun and there I was, going around the circle at ground level with everybody looking at me, yelling at me to lift the bar. The ride went by quickly for the other kids. But for me, it was agonizingly slow. I was humiliated and frustrated and felt really cheated.

Finally the ride stopped and the carney started letting the kids off one pod at a time. When he got to me he said, "Why didn't you just push the bar forward like I told you to?"

"You told me to lift the bar!" I whimpered.

"Lift, push, whatever," he shrugged.

With tears in my eyes and a trembling lip I went to my mom and dad. They said, "Why didn't you lift the bar?"

"He just told me to push the bar, not lift it."

"Oh well," they said. It's time to go. It's getting late.

"Can't I ride again, just once? I know how to do it now. Please?"

"No, we've got to get home. You can ride it next time."

But you know, there never was a "next time."

There never was.