There are so many, as I have spent more time in the air and in airports than I did anywhere else. My Father was a stickler for time, and I mean on the border of obsessive. As any trip would start, especially one that started in Asia, meant a drawn out dinner the night before departing accompanied with a lecture on what time we had to wake up, and when we were leaving for the airport. We had to be ready, packed and assemble at the door at the given time from the night before. so when the barking came from the bottom of the stairs “come on, let’s go”, you knew you had about a minute to get your ass downstairs.
So, as any journey would start from our temporary home in Asia, the trip to the airport started at 5am… My Mother was never ready, and was always missing something, like her purse (kind of a necessity, and I never figured out how she always misplaced it). It was typical in my family to be assembled at the stairs, and have my Mother cry out that she couldn’t find her purse. We would fan out in search for it, by the time one of us found it, my poor father would be red, exacerbated, and screaming that we were going to be late (late for my Father was arriving somewhere 5 minutes early).
In those days, we were not allowed to bring anything on the plane, except for a book, I wasn’t even allowed to bring a stuffed animal. I was only 9, you can only imagine that it scarred me a bit. What to do to amuse yourself for 3 hours in the airport, 3 hours on the plane, then a layover of 7hrs, followed by 14hrs? Well, I carved a lot of soaps. No seriously, I used to get so bored that I would take the cutlery from my meal, bring it to the bathroom and carve the soaps. In those days, you got real silverware and bars of soaps in the lavatory. The flight attendants would shake their heads, and sometimes knock on the door to see if everything was alright.
What is the lesson – bring things to entertain your child, being cooped up in a metal tube is boring on a good day!