I've always enjoyed flying, even though I'm not particularly fond of the feeling of arriving at a destination without the sense of knowing just where you've been. I just like being up in the air, being part of the quiet and distance. I'm pretty sure it has to do with my memory of an early airplane trip, a memory that took place before even leaving for the airport.
When I was five-years-old, we flew to Massachusetts to visit my maternal grandparents. It wasn't the first time we'd done this, but it's the first time I remember flying. (I believe earlier flights took place when I was about six-months-old and then again when I was just over two years old...although those trips also might have been via auto.) My father was to join us some days later, but he was driving us to the airport. The "us" at this time were my mother, me, two-year-old Erin, and an infant Nathan. (Mom, what a trip by yourself!) We would have been driving to either the Spokane or Sea-Tac airport and that meant leaving early in the morning, early enough that it was still very dark outside. As we were packing the trunk of the good ol' Buick, my father knelt beside me and taught me how to locate Orion in the winter sky. I remember feeling very special that he was sharing this secret with me, just me, especially since we wouldn't see him for a few days. For the past 31 years this snapshot of father and daughter has been present each time I prepare to head to the airport, no matter if the stars are visible or not.
Perhaps you've guessed what comes next in present time: Nora's first flight was to visit her Grandpa Max and her Grandmama in San Diego. [To be noted: Nora's grandparents include, moving from West to East: Grandpa Max, Grandmama, Grandpa Basil, Granmary, and Nona. All names subject to change once the kid starts talkin'.] There are many photos from our week-long trip to be uploaded and posted, but here's a little preview of the front end of the journey:
Nora, biting and biding her time at Gate A10. Gillian, looking a little allergic.
I'm on a WHAT!?!?!?!?!?!
The flight had about 30 people on it, so we had an entire row to ourselves. Nora was the only baby--the pre-boarding announcement was delivered directly to me--and charmed the pants off of people who weren't even wearing pants to begin with. (Look to the stars to unravel the meaning of that phrase.) She was a champ on her first venture into altered air pressure, spending half of the flight being heartily entertained by the sounds of the aircraft, her new special-for-travel toy and, of course, the amusing skills of her own mother. The other half of the flight was spent freshening up for arrival with a snuggly little nap in the Moby wrap.
It was the first time I've flown JetBlue without watching television.
