A small boy who wasn’t on the passenger list was crying and holding a paper bag in the aeroplane lavatory

It was one of the most crazy workdays I’ve ever had, and believe me, I’ve seen a lot of “stuff” in my time as a flight attendant. After my coworker and I complete the customary safety brief, the plane takes off, and everything is OK. Then, on my way back to my seat, I hear this strange sound—a kitten meowing?—as I pass the lavatory. “Did someone lose their cat mid-flight?” comes to mind immediately.

I knock in the hopes that a passenger will answer, but nobody does. I open the door out of curiosity (and some panic) and almost burst out laughing. Not a kitten. Rather, a young boy is sobbing uncontrollably while curled up on the ground. Trying not to panic, I squat down and say, “Whoa, buddy, you scared me! My name is Leslie. What is your name?

“Ben,” he murmurs through watery eyes. As I try to figure out where he should be, I assist him in getting up and placing him in a jump seat. The worst part is that “Ben” is not on the passenger list. Not one. My mind is racing. Where are your parents, Ben? Are you lost? He holds onto this tattered tiny  paper bag as if it were a lifeline without responding. I ask, trying not to cry, “All right, Ben. Pay attention. What’s inside the  bag?

Ben gives me a wide-eyed stare before giving me the smallest head shake, as though he’s too scared or angry to open the paper bag. I lean against the wall and grin softly so as not to push him. At this point, the other passengers are unaware that we are inside the small galley area.

They are either viewing the in-flight entertainment, reading magazines, or sleeping. I notice Carmen, my coworker, across the aisle. “Is everything okay?” she mouths. “No idea yet,” I mouth back, gesturing for her to hold on.

I look back at Ben. “Remember how you boarded the aircraft?” I ask, attempting to speak in a calm, informal tone, as though I were speaking to my nephew. Once more, Ben simply shakes his head. I can see the fear in his tiny face, and it makes my heart tighten.

His age cannot exceed eight or nine years. I see that he is dressed in shorts and a simple blue T-shirt. Not wearing a jacket. Other than the paper bag he’s holding, there is no luggage.

I am currently considering the following scenarios: perhaps Ben is travelling alone with an unaccompanied minor form that was misplaced in the chaos. However, that does not account for his exclusion from the passenger list. Furthermore, it doesn’t explain how he was stuck in the lavatory of the aeroplane.

With a casual tone, I propose that we go to the galley at the back. “We can speak privately. I might be able to get you some juice or a blanket. Ben nods and follows me while continuing to blink away his tears.

In the back, Carmen greets us, and I discreetly explain the situation. She shares my confusion. She murmurs, “Should we notify the captain?” I give a nod. “But first, let’s try to calm him down and get some information.” Ben and I take a seat in one of the vacant chairs close to the rear.

From the service cart, Carmen takes out some juice and crackers. She whispers, “Would you like some?” to him. Ben nods, but he does it hesitantly, as if he’s not accustomed to being offered food. He sips the juice from a cracker.

“Ben,” I try once more. “Can you describe your parents or the person who took you to the airport?” His tiny fists clutch the sack as he frowns. It appears to have been through a hurricane because it is crumpled and torn at the edges.

He looks at it, then looks away, as though the memory hurts too much. He doesn’t say anything for several minutes. I had to stoop to hear every word since his voice is so quiet. He says, “Mama told me to go.” In order for me to locate my aunt, she put me on the plane. Aunt Margo.

Carmen and I stare at each other. Aunt Margo isn’t listed on the manifest either. “Are you familiar with your aunt’s last name?” Carmen asks softly. Ben gives a headshake. He whispers, “We just call her Aunt Margo.” He then squeezes his eyes tight as if he were making a concerted effort to hold back his tears. My hand touches his shoulder. It’s alright. Okay, we’ll work it out. First, let’s talk about your last name. What is your entire name? He sniffles. “Ben Evers.”

Carmen nods and moves away quietly to look at her tablet’s passenger list again. We’ve previously established that he isn’t listed, of course. However, there might be a Margo Evers aboard. A dozen scenarios, each more odd than the last, are racing through my head. Was he smuggled into the aircraft? Did he flee his house?

Did the mother feel she had no other option and did this out of desperation? A few minutes later, our pilot, Captain Baker, brings me up to the cockpit. He appears worried. Even for him, a hidden child stowaway is a novel scenario. He is a gentle elderly man nearing retirement who has witnessed nearly every scenario in the sky.

“We must contact ground control,” Captain Baker says. “But first, ensure the child is safe. Is he hurt?”

I shake my head. “Just scared.”

The boy knows only that his mother told him to find his aunt. Baker nods. “Keep him calm until we land. Authorities will help.”

The thought of handing him over unsettles me, but protocol is clear. Carmen and I decide to keep Ben’s presence discreet. He nibbles crackers, staring out the window. I sit beside him.

“Feeling better?” I ask.

A small nod. To lighten the mood, I share my childhood fascination with planes. “That’s why I became a flight attendant.” A hint of a smile emerges. Progress.

Passengers notice him, but we offer a vague “family situation.” Time drags. Eventually, Ben tugs my sleeve. “Can I open the bag now?”

“Of course.”

Inside, a tattered teddy bear and a letter. His mother’s words hit hard—she’s ill and unable to care for him. She hopes his Aunt Margo in Los Angeles can. My throat tightens.

“What else do you know about her?” I ask.

“She paints. Lives near a beach.” Not much, but something.

We inform Captain Baker, who sighs. “Authorities will meet us.”

As we near landing, Ben, exhausted, clutches his bear. “What happens now?”

“Social workers will help find your aunt,” I say. He swallows hard. “I’m scared.”

“You’re not alone.”

Carmen pins a set of wings to his shirt. “Now you’re part of the crew.” His smile is small but real.

After landing, Ms. Delgado, a social worker, kneels beside him. “We’ll find your family.” Ben looks at me. I give him a thumbs-up. He rushes into my arms.

“Thank you. And for the crackers.”

My heart swells. “Anytime, friend. Be safe.”