Flying Before 9/11

This post is a part of a “series” called Sunday Memories that I once did on my other blog that I really enjoyed and wanted to make it apart of Procrastination Ramblings. Sunday Memories is just what it sounds like: sharing a memory once each week from family gatherings, road trips, odd experiences, those interesting methods used to pull an all nighter during finals week, and random every day type things I somehow have managed to remember.

Since today is the Sunday before Christmas, I decided that I would share a memory that was around Christmas time.  I immediately thought of this particular one because it was one of the few times I remember ever traveling outside of a fifteen mile radius of my hometown to spend the Christmas holiday.

I’m terrible at remembering the years, but I’m sure it was around the time that I was six because I was on crutches that year due to some health problems.  So, I’m guessing the year is 2000 which now that I think about it is just right considering it was the year after that we didn’t go to California for Christmas since my brother was deployed after September 11^th. I’m still fuzzy about these years and ages, so if I find out from Ma that I’m wrong, we’ll I’ll try to remember to fix this…

Anyway, it’s December of 2000 and here’s a young Jess on crutches, my mini traveling suitcase that my Ma had packed for me, and a little back pack stuffed with crayons, coloring books, a notebook and some playing cards and we’re off to the airport.  I remember that our flight took off super early, so naturally I was cranky. I mean, wouldn’t you too if you had to get up early on a day you didn’t have to go to school and deal with other people traveling while trying to make sure you don’t lose your parents in the crowd while you’re on crutches, at six years old? That’s what I thought.

I honestly don’t remember much about the actual flights or anything. I do however remember once we had gotten to our airport that we got into the security line and my parents made me go first.  I didn’t want to go first so my Ma went ahead of me and showed me how to put my shoes in the little tubs along with my jacket and my backpack.  I can’t say for positive if this was the first time I ever flew, but it’s the first time that I remember and I’m pretty sure I was kind of freaked out about the whole thing.

I came through the metal detectors just fine and my Ma was helping me put on my shoes in a little seating area just beyond the metal detectors when I heard them start going off.  I remember hearing my dad’s voice telling the security officers that he had an artificial knee and that he had all of his cards to prove it.  I saw them take my dad into a separated area behind closed doors to check it all out and to see his actual scars.

At six I didn’t really understand why they were so worried about my Dad’s fake knee setting off the alarms or why I had to put my crutches through the scanning machine, or why exactly they wanted my backpack with my crayons in it to go through the machine too.  Like I said, I was six.

Anyway, we spent Christmas that year with my brother in California.  On the way back home we had to repeat it all over again, but of course, six year old Jess thought she was a pro after just her first time but still wouldn’t go first in the security line if I recall correctly.