When I was little, I went to San Francisco. I can kind of remember The Golden Gate bridge, Alcatraz, and some big tower on a hill. But, the thing that I remember most is that I was separated from my family for a what seemed like days. It was probably less than five minutes, in reality. I can recall, however, that began thinking of how I was gonna make it. I pretty much had a plan to get home by the time my family found me. Despite my plan and knowledge that I would be ok, I was happy to see my parents. I was one darn happy 5 year old. Its one thing to know that you will okay. And another thing entirely to have to prove it.