Comments on: First Travel Memories

By: Caitlin

Caitlin — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 03:48:18 +0000

When I was five and six my mum and I lived in Bathurst, a small inland city about 3 hours drive west of Sydney, and my dad lived in Sydney. My mum and dad got tired of driving back and forth so sometimes my mum would put me on a flight to Sydney and my dad would meet me at the other end. I was a regular on East-West Airlines, which had tiny airlines making the short hop over the Blue Mountains. The ‘air hostesses’ (they were called that then) would mother me and often I got to go and sit in the co-pilot’s seat. I still love walking across tarmac to board a plane – it’s so much more romantic!

By: pam

pam — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 03:40:47 +0000

I have only the tiniest memory of my first time flying, and it’s pretty, um, ignominious, because I stepped on the jetway and hurled my lunch upon the stewardesses shoes. I still hate to fly, though I love to be in new places with my whole being.

I sat next to a pilot on a flight to Chicago once and he told me about how, when they were kids, his mom used to put them in their best clothes to fly. He grew up with the romance of flight and he was wearing his wings while sitting next to me in coach. We both agreed that a lot of the magic had been lost.

I loved this essay. Thank you,

By: Alison Stein Wellner

Alison Stein Wellner — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 20:38:17 +0000

Gosh, Antonia, I want to hear the story of the Cessna with intoxicated grandpa! And thanks Mara — my cat spilled water all over the pages yesterday — they’re now a little more blurry! So I’m extra glad I photo’d them for this post.

By: Antonia Malchik

Antonia Malchik — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 21:59:26 +0000

My first time on an airplane — a real one rather than the Cessna belonging to my rather intoxicated grandfather — was when I was about 9, too. My older sister gave me her seat on the one her high school class was taking around the state. Shows you how often Montanans got out in those days! It was really wonderful, didn’t get on another one for 5 years.

Thanks for sharing such a great story with us! And it’s natural for kids to worry about what others think of them, as natural as it is for adults to lament the time we’ve wasted doing just that.

By: Mara

Mara — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 01:55:40 +0000

This is a lovely post – and how cool that you still have the story. I completely understand the significance of going somewhere on an airplane. My first time was when I was nine and although I was terrified (I’ve always been afraid to fly) it also signified that we were going on a “real” trip – in my case to Italy from the East Coast of the U.S.