Unaccompanied Minors

Our son and daughter-in-law took our two granddaughters to Logan Airport in Boston for their flight to Ft. Lauderdale on Christmas night. Emma was fourteen and Hannah thirteen, just under the age that Spirit Airline designated as "adult." Their parents filled out the necessary paperwork and presented ID's for the girls to get on the plane unaccompanied.

"My parents will pick them up in Ft. Lauderdale," Julie told us, "since you'll still be away. After you get back, they can switch over to your place till they leave. Would you mind taking them to Ft. Lauderdale for their flight home? You'll have to fill out paperwork and present your ID's, but the whole process only took us about twenty minutes. We didn't have to accompany them through the security line to the gate."

"Of course we wouldn't mind!" In fact, we were thrilled that the girls' parents allowed us to spend time with them swimming, shopping, watching movies,  EATING (my midriff demonstrated the result of our good eating!), and laughing. At the end of their vacation, we thanked the girls for putting their room back in order, for being helpful, engaging, and fun. We stored the memories and took off down Route 95 South for the Ft. Lauderdale airport.

We had gone past three exits when cars ahead of us began to apply their brakes. We could see beyond a curve in the highway that traffic was at a standstill. An ambulance and firetruck zoomed past, while Hannah began to squirm in the back seat. "Are we going to miss our plane?" she asked, while her older sister busied herself on her cell phone.

"No, don't worry," I said. "We left three hours early, so we have plenty of time." For forty-five minutes I kept up a constant chatter to divert Hannah's attention from the tie-up, but like her sister, she soon buried herself in cell phone amusements. A drive that normally took twenty minutes took almost an hour, and we still had another fifty to go.

We arrived at the terminal for Spirit ninety minutes before flight time, and wound our way through the parking garage. No empty spaces presented themselves, so we parked across from the next terminal. "Don't forget your jackets and carry-on bags," Charley said, opening the trunk. Everything that hadn't fit in their carry-on's was in a box to be shipped home.

The ticket agent at the Spirit desk was a very agreeable and reassuring young man named Theo. All four of us relaxed as Charley and I filled out the necessary forms, listing the girls' names and home address, as well as our own. We presented our driver's licenses, while Theo laminated identification forms, which he placed around the girls' necks. "Please keep this showing forward at all times," he said. Then he handed Charley and me "receipts," one for each girl, which I stashed in my purse. The whole process took about twenty minutes. "Please proceed outside to the sidewalk and turn left. The first door will lead you directly to the security line for Spirit, so you won't have to wind through this building. They'll be going to gate two after they pass through security. A gate agent will accompany them to their seats." Charley thanked him with a $10 tip and we headed for security.

Inside the door, a Homeland Security agent greeted us at the end of the snaking line. "We have unaccompanied minors," I said, pointing to Emma and Hannah.

"Please go through this line," the agent instructed, pointing to a shorter line to the right. We hugged and gave final kisses, and the girls trotted into line with carry-on's fishtailing behind. Hannah kept turning to wave to us each time the line wound around a stanchion. We lost sight after they'd gone through the body scanner.  Charley and I headed for a restroom before driving home.

Outside, it was 80 degrees and we took our time ambling along the sidewalk leading to the terminal where we'd parked. We were talking about the way the two sisters had gotten along during the week when we heard the familiar bell tones of my cell phone. We stopped so I could dig it out of my purse. "Wuz (my nickname), we can't get on the plane without you here!" I heard.

"Emma, I don't understand! Where are you?"

"We're at the gate. You need to be here for us to get on and they started boarding."

"We don't have boarding passes to get through security. Is there an agent we can talk to?"

"Hello? I'm the Spirit agent at gate two. You must be present for unaccompanied minors to board the plane. Did you get slips from the ticket agent?"

"Yes, I have them in my purse."

"That will allow you through security."

"OK, tell the girls we're on our way, please," I said, punching the "Off" button. "Run, honey! We've got to get to the gate so they can get on the plane."

I charged back to the door we'd used to enter security for Spirit, with Charley just behind me.  Good thing we run on the tennis court, I thought, catching my breath before I accosted the same Homeland Security woman at the end of the line. "Remember us? We have two unaccompanied minors trying to get on their flight and we have to be with them!"

"Where are the slips with their names?" I dug into my purse once again and pulled out the slips along with my driver's license. My cell phone was still in my other hand. "You can enter the express security line to the right," she instructed us. Charley shadowed me to the rolling metal balls on the conveyor belt, where I threw my purse into a bin with my cell phone and shoes. Behind me, Charley was unlacing his sneakers, removing his belt and pocket change, and waving his driver's license. My cell phone rang again.

"Wuz, where are you? Mom is freaking out at home!" Emma said, with the first hint of concern.

"Don't worry, Emma. We're just about to go through the body scanner in security. Tell the gate agent we're almost there now." I managed to keep my voice in control, belying the anger I felt about being in this predicament.

After three people ahead of us went through body imaging, we grabbed our belongings. Charley slammed his sneakers on without tying them and we ran toward gate two. "We're here! We're here," I yelled, spotting the girls. The middle-aged female agent, whose name tag read "Ella," was in the process of boarding the rest of the plane.

"Glad you made it!" she said. "It's a federal regulation that we can't board minors without  supervising adults at the gate. We would be subject to fines and penalties. In any case, they'll be last to board and I'll walk them to their seats. They'll be in the last row of the plane so we can keep an eye on them. That's another federal regulation."

Emma gave us a disgusted look and rolled her eyes. "We had to sit there coming down," she said. "The seats didn't go back and the toilet was gross."

"Why didn't their parents have to go to the gate when they boarded in Boston?" I asked.

"Well, if they didn't, that was a big mistake!  Also, you must stay for at least fifteen minutes after the plane pulls away, in case it returns to the terminal."

"That's certainly understandable," Charley said. By this time Emma had called her mom to tell her we were there, and Hannah had stopped twisting her hair into knots. We waited another five minutes for late-comers to rush down the access ramp before we said our second round of good-bye's. The girls marched on either side of Ella toward the waiting plane and waved for the last time, as we blew kisses. "I'm going to get a cold drink at the concession over at gate four," Charley said.

"Please get me one, too. We can sit here for a while and calm down! It's a good thing we had to park so far away, or we would have been back on the highway when she called."

I dialed our son's number and explained the girls were on board. "Well, I'm going to call the airline first thing in the morning to register a complaint about their lackadaisical attitude in Boston. Thanks for being there for them!" he said.

The girls arrived on time and without further drama. After twenty-four hours, the only thing their father got was recordings.