This is what I remember from my first flight ride: I had pressed the ‘Help’ button so many times while my mom was asleep beside me that the air-hostess came and disconnected it. Those days, the button came in what looked like a telephone that was connected with a cord to the seat and was not integrated to the dashboard on top of your head. Even though I was just two, I knew that what I had done was cause enough to be embarrassed and have always chosen the window seat ever since to occupy my mind with the beauty of the skies.
