I love those times when my job and vintage love combines. It happened earlier this month when the B-17 Flying Fortress flew into Edmonton. I was there the day it landed (despite the fact that I was *supposed* to be off for medical appointments) and got some photos for work, which you can see here.

But the day before it left I went to see it with my friend Ian, a photographer for the Edmonton Sun (yes, yes, fraternizing with the enemy, blah blah) so I could dress up and be all glam and get good photos.

Derpy face, but possible the most giant victory roll ever. It kept on hitting the ceiling.

The tail gunner seat. My Grandpa M wanted to be a tail gunner, but he was too tall. Instead he wound up as a clerk discharging POWs from Allied camps.