To this day my wife derives considerable amusement from the memory of a certain even that happened during one leg of our trip to Papua New Guinea. We were seated on the right side of the aircraft on this particular flight and my little porthole window looked out over the wing. My seat also happened to be right next to an emergency exit.

Earlier, when we were getting our boarding passes from the airline agent, he told me that I would be sitting by an emergency exit. He asked me if that was acceptable and if there was any reason I would be physically unable to open the emergency exit should the need arise. I told him it was fine and I was certain I could open the exit if necessary.

When the aircraft was boarded the flight attendants began preparing for departure by going up and down the aisles making sure that the seats were fully upright and the overhead bins were closed and latched. One of the flight attendants stopped beside us and immediately asked me how old I was. Admittedly I was somewhat surprised by this question. I managed to answer her, but I must have looked somewhat puzzled since she laughed, apologized, and explained that she was checking to make sure I was old enough to be seated by an emergency exit.

After she left and continued down the aisle we pulled out the little safety pamphlet from the pocket in front of us. A quick perusal told us that passengers seated by emergency exits were required to be fifteen years of age or older. You have to give the flight attendant some credit, she was only off by a decade. Most likely she though we were a couple of kids going to visit our grandparents or something, who knows. Apparently we didn't look like missionaries headed to Papua New Guinea.

Of course my wife had to rib me about it, and still does sometimes. Maybe if I stopped shaving and grew a beard and a mustache I would look a little older...