The first time that I ever flew in an airplane, I was a tiny, crying infant with no idea what was going on, but I had my mom’s arms to fall asleep in. The second time that I flew in an airplane, I was a shy, awkward, and pretty freaked out eight year old, but I had my mom’s hand to hold on to. The third time that I flew in an airplane, I was a totally confused, still pretty awkward, and slightly freaked out eighteen year old, but this time I was leaving the country with no mom in sight.
This past week I accomplished a lot of “firsts”. I flew on an airplane alone for the first time and I left America for the first time. And I’m not going to lie about the fact that I was sorta, kinda, pretty much terrified.