Starting young
One of my earliest coherent memories (actual events rather than vague images) was when I was about three, almost four years old. My family and I were at the airport, on one of the taxi-buses that ferries you to the aircraft, bound for the sunnier climes of Skiathos.

On the short ride across the tarmac, stretching to look out the window, I saw a large plane which was missing the cockpit/nose portion exposing the inside of the fuselage.

I turned to my parents and asked "Mummy, Daddy, HAS THAT PLANE CRASHED??"

I received a quick "Shhhh!" from my parents as a few people giggled and the majority went deathly silent.

I do feel the need to apologise to those of nervous dispositions who were on my flight that day in case I caused them any unnecessary worry.
( theoriginalsteve <this space intentionally left blank>, Mon 7 Nov 2011, 13:28, Reply)