Oh god, I remember flying as an unaccompanied minor and my Mom meeting me right at the gate. Or leaving me off at the gate in high school. I kind of miss that, if only because it's a long and lonely schlepp now.

I BET. I don't remember where we practiced, somewhere in the mess of roads around the Carter Barron, I think. With fewer nervous security guards to twitch at my stalling out or grinding my poor mom's car's gears. ;)