In a very short time, Paul and Winston - which probably wasn't his real name, but as long as he had to hide his own name, Paul could hardly expect Winston to reveal his - were riding pleasantly along on two bikes borrowed from Aunt Mimi's garage. Winston had left a little note thanking her for them, which Paul hadn't seen, so he didn't know whether Winston had put his real name on it.
"Won't she get mad that you're takin' those bikes?" he'd asked.
"Probably." Winston had grinned broadly. Then, slyly, "How about your folks? They mad about you being here right now?"
Paul had blushed and dropped the subject. He had made up his mind not to tell Winston about his running away, but sometimes he wondered if his new friend had already guessed.
Still, the bike ride to the airport passed very enjoyably. The only conversations they had were about music. At the airport, however, there were more problems.
"So you're fourteen" the lady behind the desk checked Paul's passport "and you're fifteen?" she addressed Winston. "Do you have a note from your parent or guardian saying you should be here?"
Winston shook his head, a slight look of contempt on his face. "Do we need one?" asked Paul, lowering his long lashes as though hoping the answer would be no. That kind of rule had never occurred to him. This business of running away wasn't as easy as he'd thought....
The lady behind the desk nodded. "I'm afraid you do, sir. Unless you're traveling with someone sixteen years of age or older, it's required."*
"I am sixteen." Winston's voice was impatient and maybe a little offended.
The lady shook her head. "Your passport says fifteen for another two months, sir."
"What's two months got to do with it?" Winston argued. "On October eighth I won't be able to ride the plane without an adult, but the next day I will? What kind of rule is that, desk clerk?"
The lady sighed. "I'm sorry, sir. Those aren't my rules, but you do have to follow them." Looking at their disappointed and upset faces, she added, "Maybe one of your friends who's sixteen will come along with you. Otherwise there's nothing more I can do for you. Next!" she added quickly, and Paul and Winston were pushed out of the line by the oncoming passengers.
Paul's heart was sinking. How was he ever going to get to America? He was only fourteen, and none of his friends except Winston were near sixteen yet. Winston's friends might be, but either way that would mean spreading his secret to someone who might tell his dad, or at least, tell Winston's Aunt Mimi.
But Winston wasn't giving up so easily. "Ah, James, we won't let their silly establishment rules stop us! We'll find our own way on."
"How?" Paul questioned, after realizing with a strange start that Winston was talking to him. Answering to "James" would take some getting used to.
"Let me think."
Winston and Paul lapsed into silence. A little distance away, Paul could see a boy about their own age who was also having an argument with a desk clerk, but he must have been sixteen already because she wasn't telling him he needed to be traveling with an adult. When Paul listened, he could make out what she was telling him:
"Ringo? Is this your real name?" She sounded skeptical.
"Well, no, but it's what everyone calls me, so why can't I just use it?"
"You can't use nicknames on legal documents. In order to leave the country, we'll need you to sign your real name."
"Why?" the boy countered. "I'm not going over there to steal anything. Besides, I always sign Ringo Starr."
"Well, you can't sign that way this time, sir. Those are the rules."
"Look, you asked for me signature, and that's how I sign it. If I sign me real name, that won't be me signature at all! Isn't there any way I can just use this one?"
The lady behind the desk sighed. "The only way we could allow a signature like that is if you were traveling with someone who could testify in your favour. If you were escorting some minors on the plane, for example."*
Paul suddenly noticed that Winston had been listening to the exchange too, and at these words a big grin spread over his face.
"Wait here, James," he instructed, putting unnecessary emphasis on the word "James", so that it sounded slightly mocking. With that, he marched confidently over to the boy called Ringo, whistling a cheerful, almost provocative tune.
Paul watched as Winston approached Ringo and they talked for a minute or so. Ringo looked politely puzzled at first, but as Winston explained something to him, a wide grin spread over his face, and he nodded enthusiastically.
Winston led Ringo over to Paul. "James," he said, again with a great deal of emphasis on Paul's first name, "meet Ringo Starr. We're going to help each other out here - he'll escort us, and we'll vouch for him."
Ringo grinned at Paul, blue eyes crinkling happily. "Glad to help. It'll be fun, what you two are doing."
Paul smiled back. "Thanks. They wouldn't let us on, it's daft here!"
"Yeah." Ringo nodded meaningfully. "They wouldn't take me on the plane, just 'cause I don't sign me real name! If I did break the law over there, no one would know who they were looking for if I'd called meself Ri -"
"Ah, no, Ringo, don't tell us your real one!" John cut him off playfully. "We've all got assumed names here. James won't tell us any other name, and I'm only telling any of you it's Winston. If you tell us, we'll have an advantage over you," he finished playfully.
Ringo looked a bit confused. "James sounds like a real name to me."
"Ah, that's what you think," said John in a mock high voice.
Paul was quite relieved when Ringo just shrugged and accepted this, and Winston dropped the subject.
"Come on," he said quickly, before anyone could say anything more about it. "Let's get back in line and get to the plane."
*Disclaimer: The airline rules portrayed here are completely fictional and have nothing to do with real 1956 Liverpool airlines. Sometimes a slight deviation from facts is needed to keep the story on track.
"Won't she get mad that you're takin' those bikes?" he'd asked.
"Probably." Winston had grinned broadly. Then, slyly, "How about your folks? They mad about you being here right now?"
Paul had blushed and dropped the subject. He had made up his mind not to tell Winston about his running away, but sometimes he wondered if his new friend had already guessed.
Still, the bike ride to the airport passed very enjoyably. The only conversations they had were about music. At the airport, however, there were more problems.
"So you're fourteen" the lady behind the desk checked Paul's passport "and you're fifteen?" she addressed Winston. "Do you have a note from your parent or guardian saying you should be here?"
Winston shook his head, a slight look of contempt on his face. "Do we need one?" asked Paul, lowering his long lashes as though hoping the answer would be no. That kind of rule had never occurred to him. This business of running away wasn't as easy as he'd thought....
The lady behind the desk nodded. "I'm afraid you do, sir. Unless you're traveling with someone sixteen years of age or older, it's required."*
"I am sixteen." Winston's voice was impatient and maybe a little offended.
The lady shook her head. "Your passport says fifteen for another two months, sir."
"What's two months got to do with it?" Winston argued. "On October eighth I won't be able to ride the plane without an adult, but the next day I will? What kind of rule is that, desk clerk?"
The lady sighed. "I'm sorry, sir. Those aren't my rules, but you do have to follow them." Looking at their disappointed and upset faces, she added, "Maybe one of your friends who's sixteen will come along with you. Otherwise there's nothing more I can do for you. Next!" she added quickly, and Paul and Winston were pushed out of the line by the oncoming passengers.
Paul's heart was sinking. How was he ever going to get to America? He was only fourteen, and none of his friends except Winston were near sixteen yet. Winston's friends might be, but either way that would mean spreading his secret to someone who might tell his dad, or at least, tell Winston's Aunt Mimi.
But Winston wasn't giving up so easily. "Ah, James, we won't let their silly establishment rules stop us! We'll find our own way on."
"How?" Paul questioned, after realizing with a strange start that Winston was talking to him. Answering to "James" would take some getting used to.
"Let me think."
Winston and Paul lapsed into silence. A little distance away, Paul could see a boy about their own age who was also having an argument with a desk clerk, but he must have been sixteen already because she wasn't telling him he needed to be traveling with an adult. When Paul listened, he could make out what she was telling him:
"Ringo? Is this your real name?" She sounded skeptical.
"Well, no, but it's what everyone calls me, so why can't I just use it?"
"You can't use nicknames on legal documents. In order to leave the country, we'll need you to sign your real name."
"Why?" the boy countered. "I'm not going over there to steal anything. Besides, I always sign Ringo Starr."
"Well, you can't sign that way this time, sir. Those are the rules."
"Look, you asked for me signature, and that's how I sign it. If I sign me real name, that won't be me signature at all! Isn't there any way I can just use this one?"
The lady behind the desk sighed. "The only way we could allow a signature like that is if you were traveling with someone who could testify in your favour. If you were escorting some minors on the plane, for example."*
Paul suddenly noticed that Winston had been listening to the exchange too, and at these words a big grin spread over his face.
"Wait here, James," he instructed, putting unnecessary emphasis on the word "James", so that it sounded slightly mocking. With that, he marched confidently over to the boy called Ringo, whistling a cheerful, almost provocative tune.
Paul watched as Winston approached Ringo and they talked for a minute or so. Ringo looked politely puzzled at first, but as Winston explained something to him, a wide grin spread over his face, and he nodded enthusiastically.
Winston led Ringo over to Paul. "James," he said, again with a great deal of emphasis on Paul's first name, "meet Ringo Starr. We're going to help each other out here - he'll escort us, and we'll vouch for him."
Ringo grinned at Paul, blue eyes crinkling happily. "Glad to help. It'll be fun, what you two are doing."
Paul smiled back. "Thanks. They wouldn't let us on, it's daft here!"
"Yeah." Ringo nodded meaningfully. "They wouldn't take me on the plane, just 'cause I don't sign me real name! If I did break the law over there, no one would know who they were looking for if I'd called meself Ri -"
"Ah, no, Ringo, don't tell us your real one!" John cut him off playfully. "We've all got assumed names here. James won't tell us any other name, and I'm only telling any of you it's Winston. If you tell us, we'll have an advantage over you," he finished playfully.
Ringo looked a bit confused. "James sounds like a real name to me."
"Ah, that's what you think," said John in a mock high voice.
Paul was quite relieved when Ringo just shrugged and accepted this, and Winston dropped the subject.
"Come on," he said quickly, before anyone could say anything more about it. "Let's get back in line and get to the plane."
*Disclaimer: The airline rules portrayed here are completely fictional and have nothing to do with real 1956 Liverpool airlines. Sometimes a slight deviation from facts is needed to keep the story on track.