the following story is a retelling from my mother's version of events. i don't remember any of this, but the bit about what i was doing always leaves me cringing and mortified. there wasn't much anyone could do to stop this? i wasn't there, and it was apartheid south africa, but WTAF?!
on the 11th of september, 1981, it snowed in johannesburg. i was just shy of two years old, and was flying with my mother and my brother to johennesburg, with the flights all thrown into complete disarray due to the snow.
apparently, i was such a "busy" baby that the crew offered my brother the crew's jump seat so that he could enjoy some peace and quiet.
there was black family sitting in the seats in front of us. apparently, a large part of my "busy-ness" was standing up on the seat, and playing with their hair.
on the way off the airplane, someone approached my brother and told him "your little boy is really busy".
"that's my brother!"
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