My dad remarried in 1994 not long after my mom passed away following a lengthy battle with cancer. My dad and bonus mom decided it would be fun to send the kids to Disneyland — a chance to get to know each other better, I suppose—while they had their honeymoon a little closer to home.
My dad handed the keys to our family van to his parents, and my five siblings piled in with them. I don’t remember the circumstances why I had to fly to California while the rest of the family drove, but I left the day following the rest of my family’s departure.
I was always a nervous kid and remember my dad emphasizing to his dad the importance of being at the airport when I arrived the following day.
I flew to San Diego where we would stay the night then spend the following day at Sea World before driving north to Anaheim.
My flight was scheduled to arrive in San Diego at around noon. The instruction: I would exit the airport at the appointed terminal where my grandparents and siblings would be waiting for me.
In 1994, the Salt Lake City International airport was nothing like the bustling hub it is today nor were any of the companion restrictions in place that were imposed after 9–11. My parents walked me right to the gate, I hugged them, and got on the plane.
I arrived at the San Diego airport to a scene I’d never witnessed.
People were everywhere!
It took all the maneuvering skills I had learned playing basketball to avoid crashing into people at every turn.
I followed the signs carefully and made my way out of the airport onto the crowded sidewalk. There was no sign of my grandparents or siblings anywhere in the immediate area.
I walked up and down the length of the sidewalk in front of the airport for more than an hour, looking for signs of our maroon-colored van or any familiar face, my anxiety growing with each passing minute. Mind you, this was all before the ubiquity of cell phones so there was no possibility of texting someone or sharing my location.
Ninety minutes in, I tried calling home, collect, from a pay phone but my parents weren’t around to accept the call.
Over the loud speaker, I kept hearing notifications that such and such a person should pick up one of the white courtesy phones and dial a particular number.
After about two hours, I decided to give the courtesy phone a try. The attendant I spoke to was very friendly but indicated there was no way she could ask my grandpa to meet me somewhere for safety reasons. However, they did say they could page him to call a number on the white courtesy phone.
I identified myself as a minor when I spoke to the attendant, so in retrospect it does seem really strange that airport security (pre-TSA) was never involved. I was literally left to my own devices.
Every few minutes, I heard the airport paging system page my grandpa to pick up a white courtesy phone and call the indicated number.
No response.
More than three hours had passed and I was on the verge of panic. Then, at a distance that seemed like miles from where I was (it was probably less than 1,000 feet), I spotted my grandpa. I still remember the muted pastel shirt he was wearing when I saw him.
Giving up concern for bumping into people, I pushed my way through the crowd then practically started screaming his name when I thought I was close enough for him to hear me over the noise of people and cars. I continued pushing and yelling until I finally caught his attention.
Breathless, I reached my grandpa and threw my arms around him. I tried hard not to cry, but the relief I felt was almost overwhelming.
My grandpa was not a great driver, and it turns out he had caused a minor accident during a busy time on a busy road which turned into a long delay getting to the airport.
It was the first time I had ever traveled more than a few miles from home without family or friends. I knew, however, that a carefully-made plan was in place to ensure I would be able to make my way from airplane to grandparents without any issues.
Even though there was an accident, the plan didn’t change. It was just delayed. They arrived, and with an interesting story to tell. Once we were all safely together, my anxiety disappeared (eventually).
We still got to enjoy Sea World and Disneyland, and we still arrived back home to our parents on the appointed day.
“Life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.” John Lennon gets credit for this though I’m sure the general sentiment predates him — probably back to our hunter/gatherer ancestors.
I can reach back and judge the delay I had as a minor one. However, I’m speaking from 30+ years of experience since that happened. To my 15-year old self, it was a traumatic experience.
In life, some people get really good at navigating the inevitable delays — long and short — while others will always struggle. We all know people (or perhaps are people) who lose patience quickly when something doesn’t go according to plan. I used to be that way all the time, but as I’ve aged I’ve started choosing not to let delays ruffle my feathers (as much).
Some experiences in life are really hard. Some of the inevitable delays come in the form of prolonged health challenges, loss of employment, inability to care for loved ones, or even death.
At fifteen years old, the emotional toll of my experience was significant. Major delays and setbacks in life often come with a high emotional toll. Having a sense of where we are, metaphorically speaking, is the only way to navigate those experiences without allowing ourselves to become the experience.
How we respond to life-altering experiences (both good and bad) comes with, well, experience. After all, experience is what we get when we don’t get what we want.
Looking forward, my fifteen year old self couldn’t know that the experience in San Diego was only a preview of the delays and detours of life, but plans rarely unfold how we want.
When we’re open to the possibility of learning from those “undesirable” experiences, we often end up with the ability to help someone else better navigate similar experiences in their own lives.
Those delays and detours will always be part of life. The question is: what will you do with the ones you encounter?
I have another really funny story from that same Disneyland vacation with my grandparents that I’ll tell another time.
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