When I was a little kid I remember taking the plane to go somewhere on vacation as one of the best things of the whole trip, didn't matter where we were going.
First of all, the way from our home to the airport for me was like a mini road trip with stops at the auto-grill and sleeping with my pillow in the car. Then I felt like such a grown up having breakfast at the airport with cappuccino and croissant. Less 'grown up' but so much fun was also running around that magical place where everyone had a suitcase with wheels and I could even just jump on our big one and being carried by my dad.
The moment we finally stepped into the plane I couldn't wait for the takeoff (and for the hostess to get me and any other children on the flight a coloring book). My mum taught me that usually when the plane is ready on the runway it takes almost exactly ten second to take off, so we used to count out loud and hold hands until we left the ground. I still do it in my mind every time.
Until there, everything was always great, but after a while (for the first let's say 10 years of my life) I started feeling really airsick, with nausea and headache. At that point my mum would pull out one of the few plastic bags she always carried when we traveled, and yes as moms do she would hold it for me while I gracefully (of course) threw up all the breakfast I just had. Lovely, I know. I have to say tho, after I was done and didn't have anything else to throw up in my stomach, I enjoyed the flight looking out of my window and dreaming. My poor mum trying to get rid of the vomit bag.
In all of this my dad was always sleeping, he has that superpower, before the plane takes off he's already asleep, as soon as his head touches the seat he's out. I wish I was like that, but I'm the exact opposite. I stayed awake even when I flew from Europe to America and back, it's like 12 hours, half of them spent thinking "There is no way I am taking another 12 hours flight without any sleeping pills" and watching other people falling asleep. When we landed my dad would simply woke and ask "Are we here already?", and I would and will always be like "Seriously dad how do you do it?".
And then my sister came, and the Who's Getting The Window Seat War began, kinda like the Bunk Beds War. We both wanted to have the window seat and seat next to my mum. Fortunately before we killed each other mom would wisely say "You'll take turns". So we took turns.
Now I'm older, I mean still young but older than I was, I don't get airsick anymore, but every time I take the plane I still have that feeling of wowIamflyingsocool and every time I check-in I still hope to get a window seat.
Besides a few normal inconveniences, I loved flying, I love flying. I like it because it's a moment in which you can take a break from reality and the outside world, enjoying the view and if you are lucky have a talk with your neighbor passenger. Unless you're stuck in the middle of two annoying people, or next to a child, or in front of a child, or actually anywhere near a child. I also read that the plane is the second safest transportation, it's just that I never really got the life jacket under the seat thing.
Quote of the post:
"If you never go, you will never know."
- Anonymous
P.S. Feel free to leave a comment and/or ask anything!
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