World Travellers

I would classify myself as a very competent and seasoned traveller. I have lived abroad since I was 4 years old, travelling the world from homes to vacations. I know the ins and outs of airport procedures and don’t mind the sitting and the waiting.

When I was younger, my family, 4 children and Mum and Dad, would march along the floors, quickly trying to find the gate so that we could camp out until boarding time, unless we were lucky enough to make it into a lounge. Big brother dawdling at the back of our clan, most likely playing on his gameboy or blasting out some kind of music, me, carrying my backpack full of Barbies and one important Spot, younger sister, running to keep up the pace most likely on the verge of cryingbecause her little legs couldn’t keep up the pace mile after mile of airport corridors. Mum pushing the pushchair with baby and hundreds of bags hanging off the handles and Dad gripping tightly to all passports, tickets and visas making sure to get his family to the gate without  incident.

As we trekked along, there are of course the looks from all the other worldly passengers. Most looking at our family like we were a circus show. Others thanking their lucky stars we have passed their gate and not catching their flight. Others praying and wishing has hard as they could that they we walk straight on by. And then there was, of course, the very unlucky few who saw us approach and wonder what they did to deserve us on their 13 hour flight. There eyes would scan to see if they could see where on this jumbo jetwe were sitting.

We were the typical travelling family. We took advantage of the baggage allowance and I am sure that most of the time we exceeded on that. Mother and father trying to keep their children as occupied aspossibly possible. Children opening their bags, dumping toy after toy on the floor, a foreshadow of what is bound to be a lost toy. And then there was the constant moaning of hunger, tiredness and of course a general sense of being fed up of herding.

Once on the plane, there was the inevitable fight over which person got to sit by the window or who would sit with who. We were often separated due to the fact that we were such a big family that they couldn’t sit us all together. Mum was not happy with this arrangement, which would cause a few more disagreements. There was always bound to be one broken TV or someone had a faulty chair. This was something we just had to deal with and if we were lucky Dad would sacrifice his seat to keep the peace.

It was always plain sailing after take off. We managed to keep ourselves occupied with games and movies for 13 hours. We slept great too unless you were the baby who managed to cry the entire flight. Dad and Mum took it in turns to walk up and down the aisle trying to soothe their baby. On one occasion the baby screaming that she just had to get off the plane mid-air.

Now, it is my turn to be the mum. My turn to hide my panic and fear as we travel for the first time together. My turn to pack and check the bags. My turn to make sure everyone is happy and content. And my turn to have heads staring at my family as everyone glares at the newborn baby  praying and wishing this baby does not cry the entire flight. I cannot say what Miss Zoe is going to be like or what her reaction is going to be when flying. All I have up my sleeve, literally, is milk and hoping this is going to be enough to keep her calm and collected.