In February (I know, I know) Jordan and Aaron flew to the East Coast all by themselves for a week with my brother. They weren’t even unaccompanied minors: on the airline we used, Jordan is old enough to fly as a “youth passenger” (meaning they have the parents’ contact information on record, but provide no special treatment or assistance), and Aaron is allowed to fly “accompanied by” an older sibling who is a youth passenger. I was delighted by this arrangement! They’re responsible enough to do this on their own, and it’s a good amount of stretch beyond anything they had done before.
I got them debit cards: it seemed like debit cards might be helpful in an emergency, or just for buying lunch at the airport. They also needed their passports, and we impressed upon them the extreme importance of these documents. “If these get lost,” I explained, “it will be much harder for you to come home.” I prepared a transparent plastic envelope for the passports and itinerary. We discussed what they would need to do in order to change planes. We emphasized that it is 100% fine to ask for help, and that anyone in an airline uniform will be very helpful to them. They were flying Southwest, so seats together were not guaranteed: I asked, “What will you do if there’s any problem with the seating arrangement?” and Aaron instantly replied, “Look cute and helpless!” Exactly right, kid. Jordan said, “That won’t work for me,” and I explained that although that was true, he could play the “taking care of my scared little brother” card. They were entertained by both of these prospects.
On the big day, we took them to the airport, and did our best to stand back and let them do everything.
Watching an inexperienced traveler navigate an airport is fascinating. Jordan knew that the first thing they needed to do was drop off their bags (we had checked them in from home), but he didn’t entirely realize there was a different bag drop associated with each airline. We saw them to the proper kiosk to print boarding passes and bag tags. It asked for their confirmation number, and they looked at the itinerary I had printed: so many numbers! Multiple flight numbers, ticket numbers, itinerary locator numbers, and somewhere in there, yes, the confirmation number.
We hung out with them to the front of the security line, and off they went. Bye guys!
They reported later that everything had gone smoothly. The only stress point was that the stopover on the way home was short, so it was a rush to buy lunch between planes. Normal. I am super proud of them!