Honesty Is The Worst Policy

I don't remember my first flight. Which is fine, considering I was only a few months old and my passport photo from then features a head of hair so fine and white blond you could barely tell I wasn't bald.

The first flight I DO recall was when I'd just turned seven years old. My parents had taken me out of school one week prior to the start of Summer break and we were on our way to London, England.

The plane was a double decker, actually the only one I've been on to this day. We had two seats on the upper level and two on the lower. A spiral staircase connected the floors and the cabin crew was given the daunting task of repeatedly telling my brother and I to return to our seats during the duration of the seven hour flight.

My brother, who was almost 10, sat with my mother initially as I was your typical Daddy's girl and I suppose you could say my brother was a Mama's boy. I think the origin of this being that they both liked to shop and keep up with the latest fashions whereas I was perfectly content to be dressed in cute-enough-to-make-you-barf matching jumpers and animal print leggings.

So I was sitting next to my dad on the runway, a couple spots back in line to enter the sky, when the realization of what was about to occur fully hit me. I turned to my father and asked him if planes ever crashed during takeoff. To which he replied, do you want me to lie or tell the truth? I said the truth and obviously he then said that yes, they do.

I don't remember if I said anything after this. That's the end of that memory. I do know though that on every flight since then this exchange will replay in my head as we prepare to leave the runway. Seeing as how in the past three months alone I've been on 13 different planes (direct flights are a luxury, one which I'm not privileged with often), I think its safe to say over the past 17 years I've recalled this memory hundreds of times.

The other 'highlight' of that flight which sticks out in my mind is a stewardess and my mother holding paper cups over my ears while I wailed that the cabin pressure was unbearable. Sometimes I'm tempted to do that now, as well. But I guess chewing Juicy Fruit will have to do.