I’ve never been afraid of flying. My dad used to watch shows about planes that fell out of the sky but it never fazed me. My first time in a plane was when I was just 3 months old and before you ask, no, I wasn’t one of those annoying kids that screamed from takeoff to landing – annoying the living crap out of people. According to my mom I was quite well behaved during travel. Being high up in the sky and traveling to far off places was pretty much second nature to me up until I was about three or four years old. Though I have no memory of this, I’m told that I was a very shy and quiet kid who was very well behaved, even at 30,000 feet above the ground. Despite being a shy kid, I was always up for a new adventure in a new place. Whether I was in a stroller, strapped to my mother in what I can only describe as a “baby holster”, or (when I was a bit older) walking beside my parents, I was always looking for a new thing to do. I was curious and always wanted to explore. I walked around Bangkok, strolled around Alberta, and repeatedly ran at a cheetah’s speed from one end of the Karachi airport to the other while my uncle was following right behind me (and getting quite winded I’m told) to make sure I wasn’t getting into
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My grandparents and uncle weren’t there waiting for me when I got home (though at least one of my parents were always there), my lunch never got made fun of again (yay), there was no nap time at my new school (which was agony because I was and still am, a person who needs her sleep), and I didn’t know anybody – I was in a foreign land. I remember having fun playing with toys, drawing pictures of my family and making a couple friends but there was also a significant amount of work to do. I remember being jealous that the junior kindergarteners got to trace their letters while we had to write them ourselves. I never noticed any difference between me and everybody else until the next
My grandparents and uncle weren’t there waiting for me when I got home (though at least one of my parents were always there), my lunch never got made fun of again (yay), there was no nap time at my new school (which was agony because I was and still am, a person who needs her sleep), and I didn’t know anybody – I was in a foreign land. I remember having fun playing with toys, drawing pictures of my family and making a couple friends but there was also a significant amount of work to do. I remember being jealous that the junior kindergarteners got to trace their letters while we had to write them ourselves. I never noticed any difference between me and everybody else until the next