Corrie walked up the stairs behind me holding onto the railing with one hand, taking each step with the same foot forward. The kind of walk you do when you’re only 4 years old and still have funny feet. I was holding my cup of milk and her glass of apple juice because Ididn’t need to hold onto the railing. I just turned 6.
Mommy sat us down on Corrie’s bed, and I handed Corrie her 4-year-old sippy cup, which she grabbed excitedly and immediately started drinking. Her little blonde pig-tails were starting to come loose, and a strand of hair fell from its place and hung in front of her face. She didn’t bother to tuck it behind her ear.
Mommy knelt in front of the bed and played with my hair, which was now so long that it draped over my shoulder and rested on my lap. She smiled at me with big eyes, and I couldn’t even begin to wonder what the importance of this family meeting was.
Daddy walked into the room with the video camera! I knew what this meant. He was filming something big. Big enough that he would want to watch it over when we were older so that he could remember our reactions. This was big news, alright.
Corrie however, had absolutely no clue as to what was going on. She likes to look through the camera lens and pretend that she is the cameraman, so that’s why when Daddy walked in, she jumped up and begged him to let her “see.” I don’t blame her for being so naive. She’s only 4, you see. Dad told her to just “sit down.”
Then Mommy said, “How would you guys like it if we did something a little different for Christmas this year?” I started to panic. Every Christmas we came down to a giant heap of wrapped gifts separated into two piles: one for me, and one for Cor. I would NOT appreciate it if this Christma,s I came downstairs to anything less than exceptional. I immediately looked at Cor, who was now bouncing on her bum, barely able to contain her excitement.
“If you could go on a trip anywhere in the world, where would you go?” Mom was still smiling big-eyed.
“DISNEY WORLD” Corrie squealed.
“Well,” said Mom. “That’s where we’re going!” Corrie sprung up from her seat, and bopped her pigtails back and forth, spinning in circles and giggling. Even I smiled because, I had to admit, it was a pretty cool idea.
“Do we get to take a plane?” I asked.
Mom smiled in return and responded, “And we get to stay overnight!” Now THAT’S a good deal! I’d never taken a plane or stayed overnight in a hotel, and now I would get to do both in one trip! My giggles bubbled over, and I leaned over to give Mommy a hug. I squeezed her tight, closing my eyes, which Corrie copied, hugging mom from behind.
Security check was my favorite part of the airport -- even though I got butterflies in my chest because Mom told me to hurry up every five seconds, and everyone was rushing to unbuckle their belts and untie their shoes. Every once in a couple of minutes, a machine would sound, “BEEP BEEP BEEP,” and the lady in the uniform would come over with a flat detector and run it over someone’s clothes. One old man told the woman it was because he just had surgery. I didn’t know what he meant by that. Corrie obviously did not feel the stress of crunched time. She was sitting on the ground with her legs stretched out in a “V” shape. She studied her sneakers, biting her tongue and scrunching her eyebrows together. Poor thing. She couldn’t figure out which one was for the left foot and which one was for the right foot. If you asked me, I didn’t think Corrie was old enough to be able to handle the airport yet.
I called the window seat. I was already buckled up and ready for take-off. Mom sat in the seat between me and Cor, leaving the seat in the other aisle. Mom told me that it would be a couple of minutes before they turned the plane on and finished putting the luggage in the belly of the plane.
30 Minutes later:
“Moooooom!! Are we leaving soon?” Uh-oh, Corrie was getting antsy. She was out of her seat, in the aisle and hanging on the back of the chair.
“Corrie you have to be patient. We are leaving as soon as the plane is ready.” Just then, a voice came over the intercom.
“Good morning folks, and thank you for choosing Southwest Airlines. Unfortunately, we are having some technical difficulties. So we ask that you please be patient, and we will be ready for take-off as soon as possible.” Oh boy…
One hour later and Dad was out like a light; Mom was playing a word puzzle trying to ignore Corrie who was moaning with tears in her eyes, saying, “All I want is to go meet Mickey! Is that too much to ask?” She hiccuped. I bashed my pal against my forehead as she fell into another fit of tears and hiccups.
45 minutes later:
I finally had some peace and quiet as Corrie was asleep with her head on Mom’s lap, mouth wide open and dripping with drool. A voice over the intercom. Mom perked up and listened, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. “What’s happening?” I asked. She and Dad exchanged a look.
“They’re making us get off the plane.” WHAT? I tried my hardest not to cry but I was very angry.
“Why?” my voice came out as a moan.
“The plane broke down,” that was all she said to me. So we unbuckled our seat belts, grabbed our carry-on bags and filed off of the plane.
When Corrie woke up and realized we weren’t on the plane anymore, she started to cry (surprise, surprise); but that made me start to cry. I was supposed to be the big one. I was supposed to be the one that held it together. Casey Traverse does not cry. But I did, and I didn’t even care. Mom turned around to shush us, but Dad stopped her, saying, “It may help.” At the time, I didn’t understand what he meant. But Cor and I followed him and Mom, both sobbing and wiping our damp eyes on the back of our sleeves.
“Hi there, how can I help you?” said a pretty young woman with her hair tied up in a neat bun and bright pink lipstick.
“Oh, we’ve had a tough day,” said Dad. My mom stood off to the side but Corrie and I stood up on our tip-toes trying to see over the counter top. “My brother is getting married tomorrow in Florida at 2. We were supposed to make it in today for the bachelor and bachelorette party, but the plane broke down. The thing is, I’m the best man, and she’s one of the bridesmaids,” he said gesturing to Mom. “We really need to get there by tomorrow.” I giggled. I knew what he was doing.
“I’ll see if we have a connecting flight maybe, that would hopefully get you there on time,” said pink-lipstick lady. Corrie gave another hiccup and looked at Dad, confused. She pointed her little finger at him.
“You don’t have a brother!” she exclaimed, wide-eyed.
“SSSHHHH”, Dad looked down at her. Mom rushed over, took Corrie’s hand and guided her away from the counter. The nice lady behind the desk didn’t look up from her computer, but bit her pink lip as she tried to hide her smile.
“Don’t worry ma’am,” I explained, “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She’s only 4.” Now it was my turn to be guided away from the table. I looked over my shoulder as that pink-lipstick lady threw her head back and laughed at my comment. We waited 15 minutes for my dad to finally make his way over to us. He explained that pink-lipstick lady found us a flight from Boston to Florida, and she also gave us seats in first class for free for all of our trouble. Corrie and I looked at each other excitedly, and started skipping around in circles. I stopped abruptly.
“First class?” I asked, confused.
“It’s very fancy seats on the plain for people with a lot of money,” explained Mom.
“WE’RE RICH!” Corrie cried.
So, we tried again. I had the window seat, with Corrie next to me, sitting all the way in the front. The first seats! We had much more room for our bags. We took off with ease, and I set my eyes on one car outside my window, watching it get smaller and smaller as we got higher up in the air. After about 20 minutes, the stewardess came over and asked Corrie and me if we wanted breakfast. So she returned with pancakes and ham and syrup and a glass of milk for each of us. It was the greatest flight I have ever been on, and it was only my first one!
I stopped eating in the middle of my breakfast and took a minute to look around. Everyone sitting in the first class compartment was not a little kid. The woman in the aisle over was Mom and Dad’s age, with a briefcase and laptop open in front of her. An old woman in front of her put her fork down from her breakfast and reached into her bag to dab her mouth with her own handkerchief instead of the provided napkin. I figured that we were very lucky to be riding first class. I figured it was our first and last time that we would ever do so. There were plenty of people older than Corrie and I flying in the back of the plane, where we really belonged. I glanced over at Corrie, who was having a hard time drinking out of her plastic cup because she was so used to using a sippy cup. I wish Corrie was old enough, like me, to understand how lucky we were to be sitting in these seats. But she never really will understand. And I can’t be mad at her for that -- she’s only 4.
