These days, it’s pretty rare to find someone who waited until they were 21; most kids do it before graduating high school. Okay, so maybe I hadn’t actually planned to wait; maybe it wasn’t exactly my decision that it took until the summer before my senior year at university to finally happen. You want to know a secret? I had daydreamed about it for years. What does it feel like? Who will it be with? For years, opportunities presented themselves, and I thought, “This HAS to be it!” but it never was. All I had were the stories my friends could tell me about their experiences. I would cling to their every word, mesmerized. Hey, at least it was a solid go-to I could knock essentially everyone out with in Never Have I Ever. But it — IT — is infinitely more satisfying than winning some silly game. People always warn you that the first time can be scary; my boyfriend told me that it might even hurt — it affects individuals differently — but honestly I don’t think my first time could have gone any smoother. There wasn’t the slightest hiccup, not with preparation, not in the act, nothing! An absolute dream, I tell you! I am absolutely thrilled to say I, Lauren Lay, have finally done it, and (not to toot my own horn) I DID IT ALL BY MYSELF! That’s right, I…
Wait.
You…WHAT?
You thought I was talking about THAT this entire time?
My FLYING virginity! I guess we all know where your mind is.
As I was saying, I (at the age of 21 years, 8 months, and 1 day) have finally flown in an airplane, and, yes, my very first time was a solo adventure.
Growing up, my family rarely traveled anywhere far enough that an airplane would be the reasonable source of transportation. The few occasions that we did, my parents opted to take two-day long drives with their four small children versus “putting our lives in the hands of a stranger.” But this journey is one all of my own, and it has proven all the more sentimental that I finally did “it” by myself (except, you know, buying the tickets or whatever — thanks, Mom).
When my boyfriend had escorted me as far as he was allowed, I made my way through security feeling like a wide-eyed child and a self-sufficient grown woman all at the same time. By the time I had put my shoes back on, I considered myself a pro. I sipped my coffee and tried to focus on reading while waiting at my gate, but my nerves had turned into excitement. I hopped in line before they could even call my boarding group and giggled at my sister’s “It’s okay! I’m a limo driver!” "Dumb and Dumber" reference (if you recall that line, I love you). I pounced on the first window seat I could find, settling in as the pilot joked that the flight was headed for Des Moines and everyone nervously laughed as if they hadn’t just shit a brick. I caught myself smiling like an idiot as the plane took off, and all I could think about was the flight montage of Lizzie and Gordo in the "Lizzie McGuire Movie." Stepping off the plane into a completely different airport, a completely different world, was one of the most interesting things about the trip (raise your hand if you’ve ever flown Nashville to LaGuardia — it’s a drastic change, yes?)
I, Lauren Lay, am proud to say I do not regret my first time. Although it was a bit intimidating at first, nothing could have been more perfect in the end. It was blue skies and cotton ball clouds — everything I had ever dreamed. It WAS a dream. The best part? It’s my own story to tell, my own special memory to cherish that I don’t have to share with even ONE other person. I did it on my own.
