When I was a kid, we lived in Oklahoma but we would spend our summers in Oregon. Most of the time, my brother and I rode in the back seat of the car. On 2 occasions, my parents let us fly. It wasn’t until I was MUCH older that I realized that they did that for their benefit and not ours.
Once. I was 9-10 years old. My dad and I flew Chicago to LA. We did Knott’s Berry Farm because DisneyLand was too expensive. Dad rented a car , drove to Reno and then suburban SF to see family. We must have flew out of SF but I have zero memories.
It was definitely a luxury when I was growing up. I had a lot of friends who’d routinely jet down to Florida over March break, and my fam never did anything more exotic than driving to visit the grandparents in Virginia, stopping at a motel in Scranton on the way. We just weren’t in that wealth bracket for those decades. Until my early twenties, I’d flown precisely twice (well, four times, counting the round trips). When I was one or so, my parents took me with them to Spain (Franco’s Spain, which boggles the mind), and then when I was eleven, I went on a school exchange trip to France.
I didn’t set foot in a plane for another ten years, when I went off to grad school in California, and while I lived there, it was a couple of round-trip flights home each year. In the past decade, I’ve flown enough to (and within) Europe, usually a Transat 767 but sometimes an EasyJet puddlejumper, that it’s old hat.
Never flew as a child - my first flight was my honeymoon, when I was 24.
I am 48 years old and have NEVER flown.
In fact-- up to 2 years ago- I have NEVER traveled outside the four northern New England states(Maine. Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Vermont).
In the fall of 2021 I took a road trip with my sisters to visit relatives who had moved to Tennessee. It was:
My first trip outside of New England.
My first time staying at a hotel.
My first time staying at a motel.
My first time eating at a Waffle House, Krystals, Johnny Rockets, Arbys, Bob Evans, and Chick-Fil-A.
My first time traveling through the Downtown of a major city-over 500000 populatiion. (also my first time traveling through the ghetto of a major city and seeing the urban decay traveling through The Rust Belt)
My first time traveling through Ohio and being in area where the land is so flat you can see horizon in the distance without seeing any mountains.
It was real eye-opening experience.
Never. I took my first plane flight at age 23.
I grew up in a working class family for most of my childhood and we didn’t travel a lot.
I got it all out of my system in one year after college Florida, Mexico, France, Greece, Italy, Croatia - now I don’t really care about travel any more.
Born in 1970, my first flight was to Orlando in 1978 so I was 8. I then flew probably once or twice a year to California, Florida, and New York. First trip outside of the US (I had yet to fly domestically) was a school trip to Europe when I was in grade 11 and then a school trip to Jamaica in grade 12.
As a comparison, my oldest flew for the first time when she was 4 months old and at 18 she’s been to at least 10 countries including 3 trips to Europe.
Yes, my children have flown and traveled much more than I did. When I was growing up, I thought vacationing in Europe as something that rich celebrities did. My parents aren’t adventurous travelers and have never vacationed overseas.
My children, on the other hand, have been all over Europe and the Caribbean.
Constantly. More than as an adult, to be honest. A few reasons:
1.) My parents were peripatetic when I was younger, moving from state to state every 2-3 years. My father didn’t more or less settle down in one spot until I was in seventh or eighth grade, my mother when I was a sophomore in college.
2.) My parents separated when I was in 3rd grade, divorced when I was in 5th and usually thereafter lived on opposite coasts. Annual summer trips were the rule.
3.) Even before they split I usually spent summers with one or both grandmothers/assorted aunts, uncles and cousins in either PA or MD, where my folks never lived as adults.
I took a few Amtrak trips, some plane trips with my parents, but mostly it was solo flights as an unaccompanied minor. That era of constant trekking didn’t really end until I was about 19. So, many, many plane trips. Dozens? Also, I don’t really like planes.
Family vacations were always road trips. I didn’t fly until I was in college.
I never flew when I was a kid. My first plane flight was to boot camp, when I was 19.
Not at all except as a baby to show off the baby and I’m sure that was paid for by relatives eager to see little me.
My first flight I remember was to check out the school where my dad got his PhD when I was looking at colleges in high school.
I first was going to answer my first flight was when I was 20, but then remembered that my dad arrainged for a flight in a Cessna when I was about eight, so the flight was 20 was was only my first commerical flight.
My father flew a few times for his work, my mom flew once to visit her brother, and my brother flew to and from his mission, but we just did not fly unless absolutely necessary.
Around age 7+ I flew once or twice a year. My parents were divorced. My mom made a point of doing one family trip per year. Sometimes we flew, sometimes we drove depending on destination. Then I would fly to New York once per year to visit my dad. Usually I would travel with my older brother and sister (early teens) but did one on my own once. That was actually fun since the stewardesses were all giving me extra attention and being really nice.
I was born in 1967 in Manhattan. My parents did not own a car until we moved to Indiana several years later. We took trains to visit relatives in other parts of the east coast, but my mother’s brother was in Chicago, and my father’s parents were in Wichita, KS (thereby hangs a tale), with his sibs closer by than he was.
At least once a year, we flew to Chicago, and sometimes my grandmother came with us, and every Thanksgiving, we flew to KS. We flew once to DC when I was little, before the family trip during the Bicentennial. When we moved for a year to the Soviet Union, we flew there, and we flew to various places we visited in Europe, although we took trains too.
My parents got a car in 1971. Figuring out the highway system was an adventure. It didn’t exist when either one of them were children, and my mother was not exactly adventurous. My father didn’t like not knowing things, and wasn’t about to let the highway system beat him-- but he was 41, and had never had a reason to use it before. He went to college less than a year after getting a driver’s license; from college to the military (stationed in Korea), to grad school in Leningrad, to doing his PhD in New York, and then remaining there as an asst. prof.
Both of my parents had flown internationally before either one of them had driven on an interstate. My father had barely ridden on one.
About 4-6 flights per year was the norm between age 1-9.
I loved flying, and one time cried when I was 4 or so, when it was time to get off of a Boeing 747.
Never flew as a child. My first flight was a tourist helicopter jaunt over the mulberry harbor in Arromanches-les-Bains, Normandy. I was around 23.
I don’t believe my mother ever flew. My father’s first flight was my first time in a 'plane - a package holiday to Tangier when I was around 24.
When I was a kid we did a lot of caravanning in Europe. This started when I was around 14 - it’s only relatively recently that it occurred to me that my parents were waiting for a translator to be available (me) before a tentative first trip to France took place.
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When I was under 8 (moved at 8, it was when I lived at the pre-8 house) I flew in a private plane. It must have been a friend of my father that had a private plane and took me up for experience. All I remember is seeing the ground from up high.
My first commercial flight was at 19 years old.
Not a whole lot. I don’t remember the first time, but it was when my mom came to Nevada from Michigan to take my sister (né brother) away from my dad, who had taken us (no custody agreement in force yet, so I hesitate to call it a kidnapping).
The second time was the first day of the air traffic controllers strike, when travelling from Michigan to Nevada (mom and dad had come to an agreement about the past). My then-brother and I were travelling alone, and got stuck at DFW. We got star treatment, watched I Dream of Jeannie in a private room, and then were driven either to another terminal or possibly Love Field to take a Braniff flight to Reno instead of the AA flight we’d been on.
I think that’s it, as a kid.
I was going to say never, as a child, but it occurred to me that I did fly out west (alone) to visit relatives when I was about 12, if that qualifies as “child”. Part of the reason was that my parents – especially my mother – were averse to flying. So while we went on a few long trips across the country when I was a child, their preference was always to take the train, which was quite feasible in those days. My dad liked to reserve a thing called a “roomette” which was a cozy little private compartment with seating during the day and a large drop-down bed at night.
I didn’t start flying fairly regularly until I was in my late teens and away at college. Later on, from about the late 80s to the early 90s, I flew on business almost constantly, often several times a week. I enjoyed it because flying in those days was far more pleasant than it is today, and it was fun visiting and getting to know places all over Canada and the US that I’d otherwise probably never get to see. In Canada, in particular, it left me with an appreciation for our different regions and cultures that I’d otherwise probably never have.
When I was still fairly young, my parents and I visited my (much older) brother on two occasions when he was away on sabbatical, once in Boston and once near Palo Alto in California. I’ll be danged if I can remember how we got to Boston, but it wasn’t by plane and must have been by train. The first time they finally got on a plane, because there was no other choice, was visiting him in California. That was a really lovely, memorable trip.