First Flight

"The only way to enjoy anything in this life is to earn it first."
-Ginger Rogers

I experienced my first flight at nineteen years of age when I flew to the United States to see a relative. I had saved every penny and was jubilant to be setting off. I had asked specifically for a window seat so that I could regard the view with my unworldly eye.
Without any bother I got my window seat but just as the plane began to glide gently along the length of the runway, I became increasingly aware of a low mewling like that of a stranded, helpless kitten. The noise grew louder as we raced along the ground and I reluctantly and distractedly turned from my steadfast position at the window to see a tiny girl of about two. She was in the seat beside me and she was complaining to her mother that she could not see out of the window.
My heart melted. To be on a plane so young and to be thrilled about the experience! I contemplated giving her my seat entirely as I gazed at her devastated little face awash in watery tears.
As I mentally prepared to shift my belongings to the next seat, I thought to initiate some conversation with the child's mother.
"Is this her first flight?" I asked softly.
"Oh, no. Not at all," came the unanticipated response. " She has been to Japan, Singapore and all over Europe. She flies all the time."
I glanced out of the tiny window. I stole a fleeting look at the child, who was whining more crossly now, and once more back to the window.
I knew what I had to do.
I absolutely, wholeheartedly and unabashedly relished all to myself the moment of taking off, one which I am proud to say I had worked very hard to experience.
I surmised that she could appeal to the fellow-passenger on her next flight, or the flight after that, and get full access to the window: this might be my only time and I clung to it very tightly.