If you know me well, then you know I quote this commercial all the time...
This is a link to the 4 sec video featuring only the line I quote (meaning other people must love it and quote it too!!!)
Here is a link to the whole commercial.
I remember what being a kid the night before Christmas feels like.
I'm lucky enough to have traveled a lot in my life. At least, I feel like I have. Even though, lately I haven't been to any exotic places (*cough* Augusta,GA *cough*), I get on planes a fair bit.
I don't really remember feeling this excited about traveling in a long time.
I do sort of remember what it felt like to anticipate going to the States as a little French girl to see my grandparents. Most of the excitement, at first at least, was getting to travel alone with my brother. I really thought myself to be the most experienced kid to ever board a plane. That is, until my brother, bless his little heart, started screaming because his ears were having pressure pains. If it's never happened to you, then you might have a hard time understanding. I didn't understand it at all until it happened to me a few years back. It's happened to be a couple times since. It's really an awful kind of pain. Dull. Takes over your head. It teases you by making you think it might be getting better as you chew gum furiously or do anything you can to get a good swallow as you plug your nose. But, no, the pain comes back.
I say all that to say that was one of the only times in all of my travels alone, with Jeremy or with my whole family that I felt totally useless and confused. Here I am, alone with my young brother on a plane, and he is screaming in pain. I remember feeling a great deal of embarrassment met only by the amount of heart break I felt listening to him.
The other time was quite a bigger ordeal. Unfortunately, the details escape me but I will just tell the story how I remember it. My brother and I, let's say I was 8 (so he was 6), were traveling on TWA Airways. The airline we always flew, every summer. They gave us little pins we loved, and as far as I was concerned had the nicest stewardesses. Or, is it flight attendants? Anyways, I don't know whether we were coming or going at the time... *every* summer Jeremy and I flew solo from Paris to Philadelphia...a week later from Philly to Oregon. My parents would meet us in Oregon and then we would all fly from Oregon to Philly... and back to Paris. Doesn't really pertain to my story... just makes us sound kind of crazy and only helps prove my lifelong ongoing point that my mother is a saint! (Not that anyone is trying to disprove that! That I know of!!!).
Ok- This is getting out of hand... I think this is why they say "No Blogging After 1 am". (Who?)
One summer, Jer and I were flying... to somewhere from somewhere. (Best guess: from Oregon to Philly). Our flight was delayed. No biggie. TWA had a room for kids who had layovers and needed a place to play and be entertained. So, we went in the room and there were some other kids there. I remember there was a TV. I also remember thinking that the room was really dirty. (Don't get me wrong, I love the city of Paris...but for my little Parisian Derrière to think that the room was dirty, meant something!). At the time, I has no idea what Flight Status meant. All I knew is I was to sit here, watch my brother, try not to catch a disease and wait for my name to be called. Somehow, after enough time, I realized or maybe was told our flight was cancelled. I don't know why as soon as they told us that, they didn't call out parents or emergency contacts but, they didn't. This is the part that really makes me wonder how this could be possible.. but I remember it clear as day. I had to ask another kid from TWA Kiddy Prison to help me call my parents International Collect! I can picture the pay phone outside of the room. I remember making sure Jer was still asleep as I walked out. I remember waking Mom up - presumably I needed to reach her, to get her to reach whoever it was that was supposed to be picking us up.
In my head, we were there for hours upon hours. I know they brought us food... and I remember wondering why other kids were coming and going and we weren't. Chances are this was St. Louis airport...seemed to be the lay-over of choice.
I think the reason that this night stands out to me so much is because it was one of those nights you realize you are growing up. You realize you are the big sister who has to stay awake and make sure we don't end up forgotten here. You realize you are old enough to think these toys are too dirty to play with and this girl next to me is a little creepy.
Eventually, we made it home. I don't remember the conclusion. Just the scary, scarring part. And it may be that I don't even remember it all that well. I'm sure I'll wake up tomorrow and ask my mom about this and she might look at me like I have 3 heads and tell me how it really happened... but, whatever happened, I remember growing up a little that night/afternoon/day/dream!
