To set the scene, this story dates back to 2000. My younger sister was only a couple months old. My grandpa (I call him Pap) was headed to San Diego on a business trip, and decided that my grandma (Nana) and I should come along and make a vacation out of it.
So we packed our bags, and in all 10 kinds of excitement, I was ready to go. As you can see, I was very color coordinated. (Don't mind the haircut. It wasn't my fault). As any four year old would be, I was wound up and could hardly be contained. I was running up and down the terminal, and could not wait to go on a plane for the first time.
Finally, we were able to load the plane. So I marched right up to it. Upon entering, they allowed me into the cockpit and gave me a winged pin. Most children would find that very neat. I on the other hand, was not amused. I was told that I could get a set of wings before we had even arrived at the airport. With my four-year-old imagination, I thought that it was like a set of fairy wings. You can imagine my disappointment when I was handed a small piece of metal the size of my pointer finger. Somehow, with a surprising amount of grace, I politely said thank you and did not express my disappointment. Inside, I really wanted some fairy wings.
We went to our seats and I was once again so excited. My nana sat me down right next to the window and let me look outside. As the plane started to move to the runway, I was practically bouncing. My Nana gave me a piece of gum so my ears could pop. I was pumped.
After taking off, I had depleted my energy. I was ready for a nap. So I spend the entirety of the flight curled up with my Bambi and blanket on the floor underneath the seat in front of mine. Although that probably wouldn't fly today, as a four-year-old, it seemed like the only way to fly.
(Blog post #3)
No comments:
Post a Comment