A Sense That Is Not Always Common

Author's Note: I wrote this personal narrative with the topic of "travel" in mind.  While I have a lot of wonderful traveling memories, I chose this one because it was my first.  As you will see, it's the kind of story my family still talks about today.  I tried to make sure that it has a great sense of word choice/imagery so that the reader can really feel and see what I did back then.

If it wasn’t for my innate attention to details, I never would have made it to Disney World on my family vacation in second grade.  However, if I was blessed with a better sense of direction, I never would have gotten lost in the Atlanta airport in the first place.

My family’s flight from Milwaukee to Orlando in 1990 included an hour layover in the Atlanta airport.  As it was my sister and my first trip in an airplane, we were overly stimulated by the new sights and sounds that surrounded us in this unfamiliar place.   We wandered through the terminal with our mother, bound for snacks and drinks before boarding our flight to Florida.  At the young age of seven, the people who rushed around us dragging suitcases of all sizes and colors looked humongous, and the voices on the intercoms boomed loudly in our tiny ears.  We were mystified, clinging to our mom tightly as she led us toward the nearest newsstand.

Mouths watering, we watched as our mom stuffed popcorn into a large bag and grabbed cans of Pepsi.  As she walked up to the cashier to pay, her voice trailed behind her, “Jodi, you hold on to the popcorn, and we’ll eat it when we get back to our gate.”

Already obsessed with the buttery, salty snack, I warbled “okay!” with the popcorn spouting from inside my tiny, but stuffed, cheeks. 

I looked at my sister, smiled a kernel-filled smile, and said “come on! I know where our gate is, let’s find Dad and Jason!”

I started heading toward the busy terminal walkway, only to hear my sister say “Jodi, no, that’s not the right way! Wait for Mommy!!”

Already stern in my opinions, particularly with my younger twin sister, I stated firmly “no, I’m right, just follow me!” and turned a quick left into the crazed flood of travelers.

With the large bag of popcorn bouncing in my small arms, I darted through the terminal for what seemed like forever with nothing familiar in sight. I slowed to a stop and turned to who I thought was my sister behind me.

A large, strange woman stood gaping at me instead, and a panic started to rise from my stomach to my lungs.

“Jaime?” I stated in a meek voice, my eyes trying to find familiarity in every face that passed me.

“Mommy?” I cried, louder now, my cheeks beginning to turn warm and red.

“MOMMMMY!!” I shouted, louder still, and twirled back toward the place I thought I had come from.

Tears streaming down my cheeks and onto my neck, I suddenly saw a golf cart rolling down the walkway.  It stopped with a screech of gears, and the driver, a large man in an orange vest, stared sympathetically down at me.

“Honey, are you lost?” He asked in a strange accent, and, although I knew I shouldn’t talk to strangers, he seemed honestly kind, and had a nametag like he worked there.

“Yes, I’m going to Disney World.  I don’t know where my family is.”

He motioned me to get into the cart, which couldn’t be a golf cart because it was filled with suitcases, and, as I began to climb up, he asked me if I knew anything about my flight.  His eyes widened in shock when I began rambling off the airline and gate number.

“Well darlin,’ you sure have a good memory! I know just where that is, and I think it’s boarding now,” he smiled, and we headed quickly to my gate—which was in the opposite direction I had been headed the entire time.

When we approached our destination, I heard the words “last call for flight….to Orlando!” followed by my Mom’s voice screaming “JODI!!”

Suddenly, my Mom’s face appeared in the sea of strangers, followed by my Dad’s, brother’s, and sister’s.

“You almost missed the flight! We thought someone took you!!” My mom screamed with a combination of desperation and joy in her voice. I jumped off of the cart like a rabbit, and ran up to hug her, the popcorn bag dropping rapidly to the hard, carpeted ground.

“Come on sweetie, let’s get on the plane,” she said, and motioned me to the gate door, her soft hand never leaving my still-shuddering shoulder.

Strapped into our seats, I finally began to feel safe.  And, as the plane lifted into the air, my parents were both doing their best to calm me with soothing sentiments of how proud they were that I remembered the flight information.  It was clear, however, that my emotions were still not in sync with my body.  Not five minutes after take-off, I experienced something I had only heard about—airsickness—and filled two vomit bags before falling fast asleep for the rest of the flight.

I awoke to the bump of the plane’s wheels as we landed on the runway.

“Well honey, we’re here! Time to get up,” Mom cooed in my ear.

My memory of what happened slowly came back to me, and a mixture of embarrassment and relief filled my mind.  I spent the rest of the day clinging to my parents’ hands, never wanting to leave their sides ever again.