Anyone who has viewed my Facebook statuses has learned I have “overcome” many mishaps in my recent travels. But believe me, this did not just start. According to my mother, my first flying experience at age 3, proved to be a frightening tale, but one that brings much laughter years later.
So let me set the scenario. My grandparents (Mum-Mum and Pa-Pa were living in Salisbury, Maryland during the time. We would either travel by car (yes, that beautiful old station wagon, with wood trim), or my mom (Penny or P3) would fly with my brother Shane and myself into the regional airport. This story sets place in the Salisbury Airport.
Picture a young beautiful woman traveling with a three year old and a six year old. She is struggling at the counter with the luggage and speaking with the check in agent. As she peers down at her two angels, she notices they are gone. Just like that, her two kids could not be found. She began crying and looking frantically asking people if they saw us. No one had. All a sudden her little boy Shane comes strolling back to her asking what is wrong. She feels a sigh of relief and then suddenly realizes her favorite child (ok, I am stretching it a little) is still missing. “Where is Amy?” she asks. Shane replied “ She needed to go to the bathroom and I knew where it was so I took her.” Penny then asked “Where is she now Shane?” With a pretty simple response he told our mom “She is in the boys bathroom and will not come out!.” Sure enough, I somehow found the men’s restroom appealing and wanted to camp out there for a while. Thankfully, mom found a nice gentlemen to help her coerce me out.
I think back on that trip, and I honestly don’t remember a darn thing about it! I have no idea what possessed me to lock myself in the stall and not come out. But maybe that answers the question of why my parents laughed when I told them I was going to become a nun at the age of 7. They knew I had a different interest!
