The first time I flew by myself I was eight years old. My mother put me on a PIA flight from Karachi to JFK. By myself. It was like immersion for young travelers. But it paid off. Years later, here I am, the efficient well-seasoned traveler. By the way, PIA stands for Pakistan International Airlines, but in my family we called it, Perhaps I’ll Arrive.

I’m not sure why my mother could not accompany me back to the US. She and I had taken a trip back to Pakistan when we were finally able to travel back. I guess it must have been 1975 or so. I think we arrived on Christmas Day and by now I had begun my process of Americanization.  I remember saying to my mother when we got off the plane in the warm Karachi winter, “This is my first green Christmas.”

I was fondly remembering these early travel experiences as my shuttle pulled up to the Sacramento airport this evening. Feeling sorry for those younger than me who are on the No-Fly Watch List. They probably don’t remember the days when you didn’t have the option to print a boarding pass at home, or go to a self check-in kiosk. Back in the day, we had paper tickets and always had to stand in line at the counter to get a boarding pass. So I thought, well, I’ve done this before. What’s the big deal?

I gave myself plenty of time to check-in at the counter and  be patted down by security. The nice JetBlue staff tried to make me feel better. “It’s not you who’s on the No-Fly Watch List. It’s your name.”

I thought this was sweet, but how did they know it was not me? And if they knew it was not me, why was I on the list?

“How do you know it’s not me?” I asked. As soon as these words came out of my mouth, I thought, well that’s a stupid thing to ask, now they will think it is me who is supposed to be on the list.

JetBlue flight 265 to Long Beach is ready for boarding. I better gather my things and prepare to be patted down again before I board the flight.