My daughter has a friend…who is a boy. They have regular play dates each week. This makes me happy and
fucking scared at the same time. If this continues through high school and college, I may have already met my future son-in-law. But hey, there could be worse prospects for this position.
This summer my kids became “world” travelers. Jetsetting across the United States from the East Coast to the West, they quickly adapted to air travel. People bringing them snacks and drinks as they watched movies with their trays down and seats back, life in the sky was good. On the ground they enjoyed the mall-like atmosphere of the airport, beyond the security checkpoints. Duty Free and news stands, even a Chili’s!
Perhaps their favorite part however, were all the escalators and moving walkways. Like most kids
and grown-ups they were overjoyed by the thrill of attempting to walk backwards or running on all these people movers. As they tested their new found escalator skills, I leisurely rode behind them at a safe distance ready to catch a fall or release a snag.
They have since returned safely to the East Coast, but are eager for their next in-flight adventure. Yesterday, as we passed through downtown, Theo noticed there was a sign for an airport. “Mommy! Did you know there was an airport here?” After traveling over two hours to get to the airport for their jet setting adventure, the realization that there was an airport just minutes from our house was a stumper. Why on earth would we wake up before the sun and drive into the heart of Boston at the beginning of rush hour when we could have slept in and basically walked to the airport?
I tried to explain to him that it was a very small airport, and very expensive to fly out of. “Small? How small?” He asked.
“Really small. So small it doesn’t even have an escalator.”
“Or a moving ramp?”
“Yes, that small.”
The world suddenly stopped moving as Mr. Jetsetter tried to wrap his head around an airport without the trill of people movers. How do you get from flight to flight? What if your feet are tired? What if your bags are too heavy? What if you have to get from one end of the airport to the other really, really fast and you can’t run that fast? How can this even be possible????? After the barrage of questions and a meaningful pause, his only response was, “We can never fly out of there.”
I guess this means flying into/out of Dutch Harbor, Alaska or Guam are out of the question. Bummer.