Here’s a way to rid yourself of jaded flyer syndrome: take your child (or grandchild) on their first flight and see the world through their wide, wondrous eyes.
That’s what this Cheapflights reporter did earlier this week. John Patrick and I made the short one-hour, five-minute hop from Greenville/Spartanburg, South Carolina down to Orlando, the family entertainment Mecca of America. The idea was to spend a couple of hours at the airport, have lunch, ride the airport train and fly back to Greenville the same afternoon.
The first half of the trip was perfect. TSA passage was remarkably smooth. John Pat got to keep his shoes on and void the body scan. I was spared the scan. The TSA officer actually smiled. I’d prepared my grandson for all sorts of hassle at the security checkpoint. Nada.
On to the airplane. We got Early Bird boarding on Southwest, boarding positions A22 and A23. I stopped at the doorway and told the flight attendant my grandson has a severe peanut allergy. The crew put away their predictable packs of peanuts and said they’d serve up pretzels to everyone. Anything else? Yeah, it’s his first flight. Out came coloring books, plastic wings, and a certificate signed by the crew. The trip was beginning to resemble the magical journeys I’d had as a child once-upon-a-time, when the conveyance was a piston-engined DC-7.
On to the back row of our 737-700, where John Pat immediately colonized a window seat. That’s when the fun began. I explained in five-year-old fashion how wings work, how they produce lift. I told him how the pilots deploy flaps on take-off and landing to extend the curvature of the wing, so it makes more lift at lower speeds. John Pat caught on quick once the take-off roll began, his eyes plastered to the window. “Buppa (that’s me), we’re going really fast,” he almost shouted.
Clouds came next, and 18-wheelers no larger than a thumbnail, and rivers like pencil marks, and shopping centers the size of corn flakes. Yup, this is how you banish the boredom of the workaday world, the cynicism of the modern age.
Sadly, it doesn’t always last. By the time we headed home after an unexpected overnight stay because of weather, I was the one jazzed up. For John Patrick, the thrill was gone. Looking bored he said, “Buppa, when are we going to land?”
Spoken like a true frequent flyer.
Story by Jerry Chandler
(Image: kellyv)
