Scary Basements

Of course every small child believes there are monsters in their basements right? Well I never grew out of that stage. So as I walk down stairs, I notice that there is a very large, stringy shadow moving on the wall, naturally I freeze and the adrenaline starts pounding in my ears. I reach the bottom of the stairs and there is nothing to be seen, how ever the shadow is still moving on the wall. After searching around for some time, this is what I discover:

I can't wait to be 15, yes 15 no not 16, 15

So before I go into the actual story, of what I am going to blog about, I am going to introduce my self a bit to everyone. I am only fourteen though I look like I am about twenty, probably because I am almost 5 foot 10''. I grew up living with eight adults, because of the age difference between me and all my older siblings -so though I don't want to brag but- I think I am rather mature for my age. So now leaning more toward what I really want to blog about, I first flew on an airplane when I was 3 months old, since then I likely have travelled by plane more than 1000 times, and a couple times was by myself. I have flown on Bahamair and Zanziair, both I would not recommend to anyone less then the most stalwart of travellers. I have been to Africa and back and am still in one piece, I don't want to say I am an experienced traveller, I have yet to experience a bomb scare but after my last trip home I doubt it would even be as stressful and emotionally draining.

My story begins morning of February 16, I woke up in New York City with no voice, a cough and an incredible soar throat, it was an excellent start. Kjerstina, my sister-in-law had planned to just send me in a taxi to the airport, but at the last minute when I was so sick she and her 20 month old daughter Emmilene decided against it. So we got on a bus at about 10:30 and headed to the LaGuardia airport, we did the usual computer check-in and printed my boarding pass. I was called up to get the baggage tag and send my bag off, as usual they checked my passport to see if I was the person I said I was. Once seeing my passport the check-in guy leaned over to his colleague next to him and pointed at something on my passport, I was rather confused. He turned back to me and asked me how old I was (umm like he couldn't read it on my passport?), I responded that I was 14. His reply was that I couldn't travel on American Airlines by myself! I said that I had gotten here without any problems, he asked where I had flown out of I said Calgary. He said that he didn't know what they do above the boarder in Canada or why Canadians couldn't follow rules, no joke that's what he said. I was fuming inside; if I had said that about Americans I would have been shot and killed on sight! I decided not to say anything, it wouldn't come out good, me being a polite humble Canadian and all. He continued saying that whoever had checked me in, if the airline ever found out who it was would loose there job. Now I would like to flashback to Calgary for just sec where though I didn't know it; but all my problems began, so after getting my boarding pass the check-in woman came up asked if I was Alita Salmon, I nodded, she stuck on my baggage tag and waved me on. Notice anything funny? Ya, she didn't check my passport. So now back in LaGuardia, after remembering this I decided to not tell him about it, I asked why I couldn't fly by myself, he replied that on American Airlines the minimum age to fly by yourself was 15, I told him that I had flown by myself before on other airlines. He said to bad, that on AA you had to be 15. I asked why? He told me that it was because kids kept disappearing. I was very skeptical but once again kept my mouth shut. I asked what we could do so I could get on my flight. He said that Kjerstina had to buy a $100 pass so she could get me through security and to my gate, because I was incapable of doing it by myself, I also had to fill out a bunch of paper work. We grudgingly agreed Kj payed and I filled out the paper work about who was meeting me at the destination, where I lived and all that. I was surprised they even let me fill it out my self. After finally getting the pass and everything we got through security which was difficult because Kj had a stroller and little Emmilene, and a water bottle which caused us some grief as well. We finally got to the right gate, we had to go buy some food because Kj hadn't packed any for Emmilene, she luckily had enough diapers to last her. So I got on the plane with out any problems and flew to Dallas, Texas. Once landing, while we were taxiing they announced that we were arriving at gate D39, they also announced all the other flights that were leaving within the next hour and a half, the announced that the flight to Calgary was leaving from gate D38, I thought that was pretty lucky. The stewardess told me to exit the plane and to just wait by the desk until someone could come and "escort" me to my gate, I was like okaaaay fine. I got off, and being the oh so rebellious teenager I am I walked 50 feet to my gate. And guess what they paged my back to gate D39! So I walked back and this snobby steward (or whatever you call a male stewardess) said that he had been running all over the airport looking for me, I was thinking 'I was gone for maybe MAYBE 2 minutes. He then asked me if I was incapable of listening to instructions, I shook my head meaning that of course I was capable, he responded by saying "Well I take that as a no", I didn't trust myself to speak I walked away and went to talk to another AA worker about what I was suppose to do now. She told me that I had to stay in her sight until some security guard could come and take me somewhere to wait until my flight left. I sat there, confined to that chair for over 20 minutes, until finally a guy in one of those little white cars that carry obese and paraplegic people around came and picked me up, he loaded me up onto the car and we drove I swear about 150 feet. After getting out he walked me to a door below a set of escalators, we entered and he escorted me down a couple hallways, I was beginning to get a bit nervous I thought that I was going to be question about why I had walked off, we came to a door that said 'Prospector's Office' this made me even more nervous, me being a Canadian had no idea what a prospector was. We walked in and I wanted to laugh, there where a couple people in the office and everyone was listening to music, playing video games and and laughing about how the radio/walki-talkies don't work and you can't understand a single word and the airport should invest in new ones. Though we get the idea that airport security is incredibly paranoid, we know the truth now. They asked if I needed any food or needed a trip to the bathroom, I responded by saying that ya I could use some food. I was then escorted out by this little Spanish guy probably about 5 foot 2" and in a bright green official vest, I got a couple of weird looks from people. I decided to just go to McDonald's it was the closest, he wanted to know if I needed the washroom, I said no not wanting to be escorted into THERE. So we returned to the little room where I ate my salad and read a book for an hour, when it was my time to board they escorted me back to my gate. But they weren't ready for me to board yet, because I had to board first, I needed extra time for some reason, so the boarding pass beeper lady just told me to sit behind her desk so that she could keep an eye on me. I raised my eyebrows and asked if I could just sit in an empty chair right in front of her desk, she said that I had to be in her view, I said "Umm, well I am going to be right there, you can see me." She was still skeptical, "Well, OK just don't wander off." OK, like she wouldn't see me, I was right in front of her the entire time. So I finally got on the plane, thinking my troubles were over, the flight there was fine I got the usual customs form which I filled out and everything. Then probably about 45 minutes before we landed in Calgary the stewardess moved me to first class, I got really excited for a bit, but once I sat down in those comfy chairs I didn't get any special services, no extra drink, no complimentary dinner or wine; I was a little put out. We landed and I was told to wait while everyone deboarded, I was also asked if I had filled out the customs form or if I needed someone to write it out for me, I responded that I had already filled it all out. I was rewarded with a double thumbs up and a big grin from the stewardess, I gave her my most believable (fake) smile. I decided to follow instructions this time, the loud speaker announced that anyone needing assistance or was in some way disabled was to wait on the flight, so a waited in first class while everyone deboarded, getting weird looks from everyone, because I obviously was not handicapped, I was tempted to start making weird noises and poking people, it might have covered up my predicament. So once every one was off except for the 6 people needing wheel chairs, (ya there were six of them; by them I mean almost deaf, almost blind immovable, complaining old people) I was told I could get off but I had to wait for an escort just outside the gate. I got off and waited, for some reason the airport didn't have enough wheel chairs available at the time so we all waited around for another 10 minutes for some more wheel chairs to come, but then of course we didn't have enough staff, to push everyone around, so we waited around again, me with six tired and crabby old folks and there wives and two airport workers freaking out about how on earth they were going to transport everyone around. Now I'd like to say I offered to help push people around, but I'd be lying it was rather amusing and I doubt I would have been allowed to anyways, because I would have ran and pushed the wheelchair and person into a wall or something because 14 year olds obviously aren't trustworthy. Finally after enough staff had arrived and we'd all been sorted into groups, me with a man in a wheelchair his wife and my escort who I am going to call Sergio (Joanne would be the only one who would understand why, he just looked like him). Sergio took the wheel chair and we started off. He looked at me and said "Umm, why are you here?" I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, I responded "Well I had to get an escort, to take me through customs and everything" He still looked confused "But don't you live here? You don't need an escort to come back to your home country" I replied, "Well, you do on American Airlines to many people have gone missing." He raised his eyebrows "Well how old are you?" "Fourteen," I said. He nearly stopped walking and looked at me, "Oh, ya that makes sense I guess," he tried to recover. "Ya, I know I don't look it" I said. "It's such a dumb rule, I think you could handle the airports by yourself," I swear I could have hugged him. Throughout our conversation we had been winding down hallways and such, we had to take the long way around because the wheelchairs couldn't take the escalators or stairs, we got to walk through "Authorized Personnel Only" zones until finally we got to the customs line up. Which I shouldn't call a line up because being handicapped you got to skip the line, and me being with the handicapped people was able to skip it was well, meaning that getting through customs was pretty smooth and easy except for the annoyed glares of the people in the line. So off we all went get our luggage Sergio and I had kind of become friends now and were joking about airports and my adventure, I spotted my luggage and he was nice enough to lift it off for me (the only pro to having a escort). For some reason he kind of ditch the wheelchair couple he was supposed to be helping, and we walked through the last check point in the airport together; Sergio barely made it though, he had tripped over a blind woman's white cane on the way out. Finally we began the search for my parents and we joked about who was going to pick me up and which one loved me more, it was good to laugh after those stressful hours. I spotted my mom and dad and walked over, Sergio got dad to sign this paper and after he was done, looking guilty he said, "I probably should have asked if this was actually your Dad, not just some stranger." Laughingly I reassured him that it was and dad got out his faded driving license. We said thank you and good bye, and finally, finally got home. Wow, what a day!

Yup! I Now have a Blog too

So today I had nothing better to do so I decided to start my own blog. Now you might think that `Little Winged Salmon`is no better a name than `Salfam Run` but atleast mine has meaning. If any of you know Spanish you will realize that the word `alita` directly translates to mean little wing. So I decided to use it as my blog name and it so happens that no one has used it (can`t imagine why). My first blog will perhaps only mean anything to my immediate family who were present at the time I am going to tell about. But the story began during my previous week of school I was given a written assignment to write, the topic was I had to find two different experiences one negative, one positive that effected my quality of life and that either met or didn't meet my physical or mental needs . The experience I choose for my positive experience was this:

For some it might be chaos for me it was family. I have six older siblings five of them are married and four of the married ones have children. Last November was the last time all of us were together and I don’t think I have ever been happier. Even with four obnoxious brothers, two opinionated sisters, two loud parents, five quiet in-laws and nine children all under the age of ten running around, it still felt like home. I am sure the smell was atrocious I didn’t seem to notice though, but with twenty three bodies there isn’t a lot of hot water to go around so many of us went with out showers far longer than is healthy. I am sure my house smelt strongly of B.O. mixed with poopy diaper; when you walked by the pile of them you couldn’t help but gag. That’s how bad the smell was, no joke. If it wasn`t nap time the noise could escalate to near deafening from mothers shushing their kids, to crying, fighting children to seven laughing and arguing siblings. Then there was the food (packaged and non-packaged) and dishes everywhere; under couches, on top of the TV and even in the bathroom between the hair and makeup products that scattered the counters and sinks. The freezer was over flowing, the fridge was jammed shut, and the pantry was a madness of tin cans and every kind of cereal imaginable. The front door was generally always open; someone was always running in and out carrying newly bought supplies from bed sheets to Tylenol. Toys scattered the floor and you had to be careful where you put your foot down because there might be a baby there. My social needs were definitely overly satisfied that week; there isn’t a place I belong more than with my family. Then with my nieces and nephews worshiping the ground I walk on; my ego definitely grew that week as well. It was a blast.

After rereading this I wonder if perhaps my physical needs that week were not met perhaps making it a negative experience. But you decide. In my opinion it was a just the best! Some perfect pictures to illustrate it:

Are we all happy?

Many fights broke out:

You had to be careful where you stepped


Sorry John I just had to put this one in: