This happened on way to Boracay (may). The kid was precocious. Would be about 10 years old. No loss of baby fat. All gains made in the decibels department. And as the airplane prepared to take off- the kid was almost choking with excitement, but that didnt come in the way of his rhythmic semi-screams, semi-chants of "1-2-3 Blast Off". (His dad did try to tell him this wasnt a rocket nor a missile & that the order should be descending). But no, the lil champ continued unperturbed.
His enthusiam was so infectious-my frowns at being constantly woken up (this was a flight at an unearthly hour of 7 am or thereabouts), gave way to wide grins.
I think I feel the same way, now that most of my packing and logistical nightmares are over (almost-there's always something I need to do right before the exit to the airport, to feel I've judiciously divided my tasks among my waking hours). This is the first trip I'm managing independently and though it may not sound profound, but this is really the longest I'll be in a foreign country (ies) on a holiday! And unlike most other holidays, wont have my security blanket-my fall back option (read the ear that takes in my cribs and the shoulder that supports me while i nap). Nerous am I. but Excited as hell.
And as I set forth on my Europe trip tonite, I know what I'll be chanting when the airplane prepares to take off.
Bon Voyage, Gnain & me!
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