I Almost Went To Orange County. (On Accident)
The other day I came across a news article from back in July. The article was titled: “Unaccompanied Child Put on Wrong Plane in U.S.”, and boy, did it bring back some memories for me.
Oh yes, in my whole array of stories, I have one of these ones too.
Please fasten your seat belts, there’s a bit of turbulence up ahead!
I started flying when I was around eight, or nine, years old. It was a quicker way to get me back and forth between my mom in South Dakota, and my dad in Washington, and I used to enjoy it. If you ask me how I feel about flying now, honestly, I’m just bored of it at this point. That being said, I’ve had some interesting experiences during my times in airports… and this one is the craziest!
If I had started flying at eight, or nine, then I would have been either nine, or ten years old at the time of this.. umm, nonsense situation. The way it works for kids travelling alone, at least on the specific airline that I flew on, is that minors at the age of 14 or under should not be flying alone, and it is recommended that if they must fly alone, the parents should pay an unaccompanied minor fee to have their children taken care of during their travels. Basically, you get a babysitter at the airport, which is all good and dandy, as long as they know what they’re doing! In theory, this is a great idea. They take you off your plane at your layover destination, and bring you to a private room, with the other unaccompanied kids, where you can chill on comfy couches, and play tons of games. When it’s time for your next flight someone takes you right to your plane, and off you go. Flawless, right? Wrong. My parents paid for this service a total of two times, and then never again.
So tiny, little ol’ me arrives in the Denver, CO airport, coloring books in hand, and excited for my summer with dad. Some airport lady greeted me at the end of the gate, and walked me to said room I talked about before. On the way there we passed a Flight Information Board, which my dad had taught me how to read during my first flight, when he had come with me. I found the destination of Seattle, and the time of my next flight, then memorized the gate number for later.
My layovers in Denver where always really long. Over the years I have become quite acquainted with terminal B in that airport. So much treasured “me time”, sitting against the windows, eating a single size cheese pizza from Pizza Hut, and drinking Jamba Juice, while I watched thousands of people scurry from one end of the terminal to the other, to catch their planes to wherever. I remember this layover being one of the longer ones, because I remember thinking that multiple hours in that room was way too long. Eventually my boarding time arrived, and another woman showed up to take me to my flight.
I noticed, as we were walking to my gate, that we were walking in the opposite direction of the gate that I had memorized from the flight board. That was my first weird feeling, but this lady was an adult, who worked in this airport, so she must know what she’s doing. We arrived at a gate, and although I couldn’t shake the weird feeling, I assumed that something had happened in the last few hours, and they had to change gates. Which is actually a thing that does happen. Then, I handed my actual, physical ticket to the lady at the gate, which she took, in her hand, and put it through the machine. The machine gave it back to her, she tore off my ticket stub, and handed it back to me, and then I was put on the plane.
*PAUSE* When you travel as an unaccompanied Minor, you get boarded on the plane first. I’m talking, like so early that the Stewardesses are still kind of tidying up from the last flight, early. You got that? Okay, *UNPAUSE*
I walk onto this plane, and am greeted by two very kind, and smiley Stewardesses, who are preparing for this next flight. They ask if they can get me anything, as good Stewardesses should, and I reply as tiny, shy little me would, with a “No, thank you, I’m fine.”, and quickly find my seat. So, I’m sitting in my seat, on this plane, trying to read my book, and I’m not trying to eavesdrop, but I can’t help but overhear the conversation between the Stewardesses. They were just so excited about going shopping in Orange County!
Suddenly, the weird feeling came back, but I tried to brush it off, because these two are Stewardesses, they travel all over the place, it’s their job. Maybe they’re talking about another day? Maybe after Seattle, this planes next destination was going to be this Orange County place? By the way, I had absolutely no idea what Orange County even was, or where, but I knew that Seattle was in King County, and Orange County did not sound familiar. Also, I was ten years old, at most, so I really wasn’t sure of much. I sat there for a little while longer, listening to them, until my “weird feeling” turned into me feeling so uncomfortable, that I HAD to say something. I just needed to know!
I got the attention of the girl closest to me, mustered up my courage, and said, “Excuse me, is the plane going to Seattle?” The look on both of their faces answered my question, before they even said anything. Confused, she responded, “Umm, no. Why?”, to which I responded by immediately bursting into tears, and holding up my ticket stub. “MY DAD IS IN SEATTLE!!” Let me just tell you that when I said that, I sent this airport into a damn panic.
Both Stewardesses mouths dropped to the floor like I was in some ridiculous cartoon, and the girl I had asked took my seat belt off for me, and ran me off that plane. When we made it back into the terminal, the lady at the desk, by the gate, was already on the phone with the people at my actual gate, and telling them to hold the doors open for me. I was handed off to a gate agent, who put me on one of those airport car things, and the man who was driving, gassed it like we where in the middle of a NASCAR race. We wove in and out of the crowds of people until we made it to my gate, on the complete opposite end of the terminal. Those terminals are really long. I swear the car had barely stopped before the gate agent jumped off, pulling me behind her.
I must have looked a little frazzled, for obvious reasons, because the gate agent who had held the door gave me a oh you poor thing type of greeting. He walked me onto my plane, where I was met with a bunch of confused looks from the other passengers. Remember when I said I was supposed to be the first on the plane? I was the very LAST person on my plane. I buckled my seat belt as we were taxied out, and then we took off for Seattle. Thank God!
I can’t remember if I had told my dad what happened at the gate, or if I had waited until we were in the car. Either way, everyone was upset, obviously, and my grandma spent an entire week on the phone, with what I swear was every airport in the country! She ended up getting my returning flights to South Dakota, for free, and they never paid for the Unaccompanied Minor services again. I clearly knew what I was doing anyway, even if I was technically to young.
Parents, teach your kids how airports work, even if you’re paying for extra services.
Love & Rockets,
Danni.
