Tortola to Toronto 1992
Boarding a small aircraft in the
Caribbean with my two small children was originally undertaken
with my usual nonchalant attitude; for I believed I was totally prepared with
all the necessary equipment, such as diapers, wipes, nutritious snacks, crayons
and toys. Yet I was blissfully unaware
what the next nine hours would result in.
I had taken this route many times
in the past, Tortola to San Juan, San Juan to Chicago, Chicago to Toronto and back again. Living and working at a Hotel on the island of Tortola, it was necessary to make the trip at least once a year to visit my family. But I never dreamed there would be so many requirements and regulations regarding even babies! Also, my inquisitive little girl’s amusement
that managed to sound off alarms and almost get us arrested. Luckily this was long before September 11th
or it may have been a different story.
Her small face was pressed hard
against the glass; clouds strolled by like huge dinosaurs in a perfect Caribbean sky. She
turned and said, “Mummy, my tummy’s doing flip flops.”
The paper bag fetched just in time for her to be sick, this happened every
time we flew. My daughter, Alana a
vivacious three-year old and my son, Tyler three months old and I were on a
journey. Tortola to Toronto.
First stop was San Juan, Puerto Rico where we proceeded through U.S. Immigration. They
studied my Canadian passport with Alana added and then took a look at baby
Tyler’s newly acquisitioned
British Virgin
Island passport.
I explained that once I was in
Toronto I would be
applying for his Canadian citizenship and have him added to my passport as well;
there hadn’t been the time to do this beforehand. The smiling official seemed satisfied, stamped
his approval, but as an afterthought, he enquired if I was sure that we would
not be staying in the
United
States for any length of time. I promised him that no, if he looked at our
tickets, we flew straight out of
Chicago and
onto
Toronto to
stay with my parents, he seemed convinced and waved the three of us onwards.
Soon we were onboard our flight to
Chicago O’Hare airport. Alana looked at
picture books, sang songs and asked about what animals we might see at our
planned trip to the Toronto Zoo with her Grandaddy. Tyler slept and fed. Halfway through the flight, over the loud speaker
came an announcement, “Would Mr. Tyler Fitzpatrick, please come to the front of
the aircraft.” How funny I thought,
there’s someone on board with the same name, and so I forgot about it. However, fifteen minutes went by and again
but with more authority came the voice, “Would Mr. Tyler Fitzpatrick come to
the front of the aircraft at once.”
“Mummy, someone wants to see Tyler.” Said Alana during mid scribble.
“Well, I guess we better go up
there and see.” I replied with a sense
of unease.
Any young mother will tell you that
it’s not easy moving around in small spaces particularly buses, trains,
airplanes and washrooms with two young ones in tow. The task of coming to the front of the
aircraft was easier said than done. All
with one arm around the baby, I lugged the bag out from under the seat, coaxed Alana
to gather up her crayons and books, balanced her cup of juice and stowed the
tray table. Then Alana scrambles onto
the floor to find her precious teddy.
Upon rising she bangs her head, I wince feeling her pain and rubbed the
ouch gently, reassuring her that she would be alright. Next I carefully placed Tyler on my own seat,
whilst I tried to maneuver out of the tiny space, inevitably I knocked the
person in front’s headrest, said my apologies, then tried to pick Tyler up without
waking him. But of course this doesn’t
happen and he begins to cry. Alana tries to console him by tickling his ear
which makes him cry even louder.
Reading passengers glance over, some with a look of pity, some with a look of annoyance at being interrupted.
Finally in the aisle, Alana is
barefoot and has managed to Houdini out of her skirt. With living in the Tropics all her life, she
hated the confines of certain clothing, finally she wriggles into her skirt and
we are strolling up the aisle with Alana touching hands with everyone she
meets. The front of the aircraft seemed a
long way off as Alana tries out empty seats in the First Class section. A Flight attendant rushes towards us and
wants to know if I need any assistance, we are not allowed in the this section,
then again we hear the same command over the speakers about Mr. Fitzpatrick. “Yes, I say to her,
you’ve been calling for my son.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mr. Fitzpatrick.” I say nodding towards the bundle in my arms.
“This is Tyler Fitzpatrick.”
“Where?” She says looking around.
“Here.”
She looks down perplexed. “Oh. Are you sure?”
“Well, I think I know my son. But are you sure you have the right name?”
“Oh? Please wait while I go check.”
While we stand behind the curtain
between First Class and the front cabin, Alana ducks beneath the categorizing curtain,
and sits down next to a man working on some papers.
“Your seat is so much bigger than
mine, what are you doing?” She asks and
takes one of his extra pens and draws a small circle on one of his papers. He looks up startled and says, “You can’t draw here, these are important papers.”
“I’m sorry,” I say rushing
over. “Come on Alana, you can’t sit
here.”
“Look,” she says to the man. “My mummy just had a baby, do you want to see
her scar?” Horrified I lunge forward,
grab her hand and drag her out of the spare seat. Thankfully this man proves to be an
understanding individual, “Nice to meet you Alana, he says back to her. “My
name is Tony and I have a niece just about your age.”
The Flight Attendant appears. “I’m sorry;
you can’t be in this section.”
“It’s okay,” says Tony. “This is my new friend, Alana.”
The flight attendant asks us to
follow. “Bye Tony, can I visit you again?”
He nods and winks.
The tiny person, oblivious to the commotion
he’s creating is beginning to get restless.
“I’ve been informed by U.S.
Immigration that Mr. Fitzpatrick is to remain on the aircraft. Please stay seated until everyone has deplaned
to wait for the escort.
“You’re kidding.” Tyler
begins to moan.
“No, sorry I’m not.”
Back in our seats, Alana decides to
visit Tony while I’m breastfeeding and before I protest she has zipped off
delighting in the daring scheme of escaping the confines of her seat, knocking over her container of Cheerios in the process. “Alana!”
An older woman in front turns
around and smiles. “Having a few
problems dear?”
“Just a bit.”
“Don’t tell me that’s Mr.
Fitzpatrick?”
“Yes, this is he.”
“Would you like me to find your
daughter?”
“I’d really appreciate it.”
She returns with Alana explaining Tony
wasn’t there and Alana was sitting in his seat trying to open his
briefcase.
“This is my new friend, Mary. I told her about the scar on your tummy.” Mary smiles sympathetically. Alana says she needs to pee, Mary obliges and
when they return she offers to sit with the children while I have a washroom
break.
In approximately thirty minutes we’ll
arrive at our destination, Flight Attendants stroll by checking seatbelts and reminds
me to wait for Immigration
After waving goodbye to Mary, who
turned out to be a Romance novelist, and stopping Alana from squeezing through
the queue to say goodbye to her businessman friend, Tony, everyone has now
disembarked and I stood rocking my baby and watching Alana singing and
strutting up the empty aisles.
It’s funny how a small child
introduces you to a whole new world whereby you would never experience. I was always a naturally shy person who
rarely spoke to strangers; however, my daughter was such an outgoing, precocious child that I was forced into a foreign frontier of socializing outside of my
comfort zone. Gradually however, I
discovered that I was grateful for her happy, pure curiosity and her infectious
ways upon others, bringing out the best in everyone around her. I was privileged to meet many interesting,
friendly individuals in passing that normally I would never have spoken
to. Anyone interrupted in their tasks by
this adorable fairy creature became captivated; she managed to melt the most serious of souls.
And so, when two of the largest, sternest
looking men I had ever seen, stepped onto the abandoned
aircraft, announcing for Mr. Tyler Fitzpatrick, I shuddered and there was a
tense moment of silence as they glared at me. Until Alana, pirouetted barefoot, dancing like a miniature Isadora Duncan, she weaved her unknown magic and landed at their feet practically kissing
their polished black boots.
“Shh, he’s sleeping you know.”
The men, looked down on her and one
said, “Where is your father?”
“He’s back at the hotel of course,
you silly.”
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| Where we used to live and work, The Tamarind Club Hotel, British Virgin Islands |
I nearly wet myself. These men resembled prison guards! Knees knocking, I managed to babble out, “This is Tyler
Fitzpatrick.”
“What do you mean this is Tyler
Fitzpatrick?”
“Well he just is.”
There was another silent pause while
the men peered way down at me holding Tyler,
then they looked at one another with genuine surprise replacing their wooden
expressions.
“Ma’am, may I see Mr. Fitzpatrick’s passport
please?” I handed over the alleged criminal’s
passport and they both turned their backs on me while they examined the
document closer. Then “Ma'am, we are to escort Mr. Fitzpatrick to his flight to Canada
and to ensure he does not leave the airport security lounge.”
“Okay, but he is a baby, you know.” Was no one going to acknowledge this
fact?
They stood there like sentinels, a Goliath version
of Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee, they watched as I changed the culprit’s diaper
and coaxed Alana to get her socks and shoes on. Her Sippy cup had gone missing as
well and I was on my hands and knees peering under the seats in front of
us. There was a stroller to be
retrieved, stored at the front of the aircraft and the two men followed close
behind in case we attempted a bold getaway.
With Tyler safely strapped in, my carryon bag
filled, we were ready to trail our guards, when Alana tapped on one immense
calf, “You’re the biggest man in the world.
Can you give me a ride?”
I was just about to say no, when a
transformation took place. Something in her
candid stare must have caught his GI Joe heartstrings or perhaps it was the realization
that this situation might be different that this baby wasn’t going to crawl into the masses and disappear into their
blessed country! Astonishingly, he helped her climb onto his shoulders, her giggle
made him smile as she shouted, “Now I’m the biggest in the whole world!”
It was this man’s gesture that spurred his
partner to follow suit, for suddenly, he noticed me, saw my shoulder sagging
under the weight of a large bag, pushing a baby stroller and without a word, he
grabbed then flung the satchel onto his own shoulder like it was a doll’s
purse, he even pushed the stroller.
Our new friends, Bill and Trevor, led us into
an Immigration office for a briefing on the alleged crime of importing an
alien.
Filling in endless forms, while a
pinched faced woman pontificated, that if we dare arrive on U.S. territory again without Mr. Fitzpatrick’s proper papers we would be refused
entry, did I understand?
“Of course, it will never happen again.”
And if he suddenly disappeared, I would be
responsible, did I understand.
“Of course, I’m his mother.”
Alana’s
laughter echoed through the sterile room as her new friend, Trevor bounced her
on his knee. Miss Pinch Face glowered at
him.
Finally we were dismissed just in
time, our plane was boarding. Thank goodness,
I just wanted to get to Toronto
and to my waiting parents; however, our troubles were not over yet.
Alana hugged Trevor goodbye and we lined at the
Gate. As I bent over and rummaged through the side
pockets looking for our boarding passes, Alana, suddenly was not where she was
supposed to be. I stood, looking frantically through the throngs
of people, I unhinged Tyler
from the stroller, abandoned my bags and with babe in arms, I speed walk and stand
in a chair, searching, calling her name.
A loud alarm went off. Then a scream.
Imagining all sorts of horrors, I race to where I see security men surrounding tiny Alana atop of some chairs, cordoned off
by silky rope and orange bollards where she had seen and been tempted by a pretty lever marked Alarm. Trevor lifts her
down, she bursts into tears, saying the button looked magic. The Immigration
woman returns insinuating, I’d intentionally ordered my child to create a
diversion in order for Mr. Fitzpatrick’s escape. I finally, managed an angry retort, “Are you kidding me, do you think I want to stay here? Believe it or not I don’t and why can’t you acknowledge that he is a baby? "
All I got was a blank look and another
warning. I can’t remember her exact
questions but if it hadn’t been for Trevor’s interjections and Alana’s winning
ways, we probably would have missed our flight, for Trevor took Immigration Lady aside and
waved us away.
Finally in
Toronto, after a very large glass of wine, (or two) we
related the journey to my parent’s amazement.
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| Alana and Tye arrive at my parent's in Toronto, Alana of course has removed her restrictive clothing. |
On our return journey,
Toronto to Tortola, so afraid of a reoccurrence, I shook
whilst passing through Immigration and yet because
Tyler was now a Canadian citizen, no
questions were asked, nothing was mentioned.
Alana however, sulked that Trevor wasn’t there and why couldn’t we go
find him?
Today, Alana is twenty-three, a
History Major and still throws up on planes.
Tyler is nearly twenty and despite the ruckus he
caused on his first flight, he is a solo traveler, visiting Bosnia, Croatia,
Slovenia, Montengro, Turkey,
England, Germany, and has even braved the United States.
