At the airport, Mother and Stepmother walked Girl and Brother through security and all the way onto the plane. The stewardess wore too much makeup, and Girl longed to wipe off her face and see how old she really was underneath. Girl suspected that the stewardess was a lot older than she was pretending to be. The dark blue polyester uniform was ugly, and her pantyhose sagged at the knee. It was the late 1970s and all the flight attendants wore ascots, regardless of gender. Girl hoped she would never have to wear such a manly uniform no matter what career she chose someday. The stewardess gave Girl and Brother Unaccompanied Minor pins, and Girl was enveloped in heavy perfume as the flight attendant fastened her seatbelt. Mother turned to leave with a closed-lip smile and her eyes were wet behind her thick glasses, but Girl’s were dry. This was the children’s adventure; there was no place for Mother or Stepmother in this and she was eager for them to leave. Girl and Brother were starting their day of limbo, which would end with them in the possession of their father. On the planes and in the airports in between, the children belonged to no one.
The plane started to taxi, going faster and faster, and Girl and Brother leaned forward as long as they could, fighting gravity until the speed pushed them back in their seats, unable to even tilt their heads forward. Joy rose in Girl as the front wheels left the earth. Here we go, into the wild blue yonder! Climbing high, into the sky! Girl sang freely now that the engines were too loud for Brother to hear and tell her to stop, like he always did. The children held their hands on the silver armrests in what Brother said was “pilot style” and pretended they were the ones flying the 747. Once the plane leveled off and their excitement with it, the children dragged their carry-ons from under the seats in front of them and looked at the surprises Mother had packed: a few small toys, some candy, and an Archie and Jughead comic book. The children only got comic books for trips—Mother said that they were for people who weren’t smart enough to read real books, so it was a good treat to have one.
Girl’s carry-on was dark blue and white and said TWA (Trans World Airlines) on it. The letters formed the shape of a swan. Brother had an ugly, white bag from Northwest Orient. Girl’s bag was prettier and sleeker, but the children had never flown TWA and Northwest Orient was by far their favorite airline. Northwest Orient stewardesses wore white dresses and they all had long, shiny, black hair and almond-shaped eyes. They smiled a lot and were super nice to the children, and pinned gold pilot’s wings to their shirts to identify them as passengers needing assistance. When the children flew Northwest Orient, they were always the only Unaccompanied Minors and got to hang out in the first-class club lounge on long layovers. The flight attendants let the children lie on the white shag carpeting and watch the big, wood-enclosed console TV that sat on the floor, and they even brought the children orange juice in real glasses with ice.
By far the worst plane to fly unaccompanied was United Airlines. Instead of gold pilot wings they gave out ugly, red-and-white, diagonally striped tin buttons with “Unaccompanied Minor” printed in bold type. On Northwest Orient the stewardess would take the children off the plane as soon as they landed, before the rest of the passengers, but on United, Girl and Brother had to wait for the plane to clear of people before they could leave.
When the children got to Chicago they had to walk quickly to keep up with the flight attendant who was overseeing their plane change. Flight crews all had small rolling bags they trailed behind them with one hand, so Girl and Brother dragged their carry-ons, too, even though theirs had no wheels.
“Stop dragging your bags!” the stewardess reprimanded them. “You are going to rip them!” Girl and Brother listened for a while, but the Chicago O’Hare terminal was big and their bags were heavy, and they knew the stewardess had no real authority over them. By the time the stewardess delivered the children to the United Airlines Unaccompanied Minor room, Girl was out of breath and the bottom of her bag was streaked in gray.
The room was small and smelled of old shoes. There was a red-and-blue rug printed with the stylized tulip-shaped UA insignia in the middle. It had stains from spilled drinks and black spots of ground-in chewing gum. Eight or ten other kids sat in armless chairs upholstered in red-and-blue, nubby fabric like polyester terry cloth. A few looked up when Girl and Brother entered, but no one said hello or even nodded an acknowledgment. A television hung from the ceiling blaring a baseball game. Girl didn’t recognize either team, but then no one in her family watched sports.
“Where’re you from?” an untidy boy around her age asked Girl. His hair was rumpled brown and his face was splattered with freckles.
“Rochester, New York,” she said. Her brother ignored the new child and pulled out a book.
“I’m from Minneapolis but I’m going to Atlanta! That’s in Georgia,” he bragged.
“We’re going to Anchorage,” Girl answered, wishing he would go away.
“Yeah, well, I’m going almost a thousand miles!”
“Yeah? Well, we’re going over three thousand.” The Atlanta boy spit on the carpet and walked away. Girl didn’t want to take her Barbies out to play with on the carpet now, so she dug through her carry-on for a book. The chairs were too close to the wall to allow her to lean back on two legs, so
