flying | Looking for the Sweet Spot

What is worse than baby screaming lungs out on airplane? Being the parent of baby screaming lungs out on airplane. Wait, no, it wasn’t me. I mean, aside from the possible ramifications of confiscating ipods that could produce hysteria to rival any 6 month old, my kids at 10 and 12 after much experience, have grown into seasoned travelers.

No, on my recent trip, the unlucky parents of 6 month old travel baby happened to be sitting across the aisle from me. Clearly, the parents were newbies to the joys of Airplane Travel with Baby. How do I know this? Well, when baby began to holler like a horror movie scream queen not long into the 3 1/2 hour flight, the look of terror in the parents eyes told all. They began to all but dumpster dive into their “appropriately” sized bag for items of distraction: teething toy, bottle, cuddlys, electronics, Mom boob (ok, well, that was not in the bag) – all to no avail.

And as their desperation rose, I began to feel anxious for them. I wanted to share with them some of my experiences. Comfort them so they would know it was fairly unlikely the flight attendant was on her way to escort them to seats on the wing, designated for disturbers of the peace. To assure them they were not alone.

For example, the first time I flew with my, then 4 month old, son, and he screamed all the way to the coast, body stretched in ridged stress, like stick man shrieking out his dying breath. I was sure I was headed to that seat in the wing (at least I hoped anyway).

Or, the time my, then 18 month old, son decided everyone sitting behind us (which was basically the entire plane) was fascinating and proceeded to over and over again force his way off my lap into the coveted standing position in order to socialize over the seat. Which honestly, I could have handled had it not been for the unsympathetic flight attendant who continually demanded I restrain him to sit on my lap (right!). Finally in exasperation I suggested that if she had any constructive ideas as to how to accomplish this, I was very open to suggestions. She had none to offer, but I swear I saw a flash of something involving ropes, a gag, and horse sized sleeping pill flash across her face. We did not get our Chocolate Chip cookies that time.

And then there was the time when, due to overbooking, we were all seated individually – scattered throughout the plane. After gallant efforts by desk attendant, we were finally told we would have to board, sit in scattered seats, and see what could be done. There we were, on the plane, standing ambiguously in the aisle when it suddenly dawned on my, then 5 year old, son the grim possibilities of having to sit next to a stranger (AKA: one who must be an undesirable ‘cause I don’t know you and might smell funny). No sooner was this realization reached did big fat tears began to roll down his face accompanied by soft puppy like whimpers. In an instant, the plane was filled with Jack-in-the-Boxes on crack as people popped up in order to give us seats together and rescue traumatized child. Thus, the birth of travel motto: When all else fails, Cry.

I wanted to warn them against attempting to change a diaper in the plane bathroom; to tell them to never allow accidental upgrade to first class when travelling with a lap baby; to advise them to always bring an “inappropriately” sized bag for that unexpected 7 hour delay; to always know where the barf bag is; and to inform them that when their child begins to read, explain that “cocktail” on the plane menu is NOT Shrimp Cocktail to be ordered from Flight Attendant during beverage service.

I wanted them to know that not every flight attendant will treat you like Rosemary and her baby, and some will even be kind.

But, in the end, at the flight’s conclusion, I just gave them thumbs up, told them they did a good job and promised it would get better.

Judging by the not-as-defeated smile the Mom gave me, and the I-needed-to-hear-that look the Dad imparted (don’t you know he was contemplating their possible 17 ½ year ban from flying), I am thinking…It was enough.

For more Sweet Spot Travels: Go Here!

I love to fly. Let me rephrase that – I love going places and since flying seems to be a necessary part of “going” I find I must endure the experience. In truth, over the years I have developed a random fear of flying. As a trip approaches, my growing anxiety blooms into full blown fear by the time boarding ensues. At that moment, the only thing that propels me onto the plane is the comfort of strangers. I reason that surely all these people around me would not be stupid enough to board a plane that is going to crash and burn, right? Clearly, they collectively have the inner track to divine knowledge.

And with this comforting although misguided sense of security, I am able to climb aboard, buckle in, and finally, breathe easy.

However, on recent trips, a flaw has developed in my strategy. You see, the longer it takes to board, the longer I am privy to the behaviors, phone conversations, and smells of my fellow passengers. And, with every glimpse of their humanity, I begin to doubt their collective mystic abilities. Unfortunately, unless one is flying Southwest Airlines – the champion of boarding for the masses – the wait to be called forward and given the honor to climb aboard can seem interminable.

It used to be that all were only made to wait for the First Class passengers to comfortably take their seats – which seemed fair. I mean, you should get something more than a big seat and hot towel for all that extra dough. But, lately, the list of “preferred travelers” i.e. more important, special passengers who get to board before me, seems to be growing.

Case in point: My most recent trip over Thanksgiving. There I was, with the mob of fellow travelers, poised in the most optimum spot to jump in line when my assigned boarding group was called, fear bubbling in my stomach, when finally, the boarding process began. It started out in the usual way as the attendant called:

“People travelling with small children and those needing assistance” (drat those too old, kids of mine who refuse to board on their knees and do not have any broken bones at present to take advantage of)

“First Class Passengers” (not in this lifetime)

“Gold Elite Members may now board” (gold…that must be good, right?)

“Bronze Elite Members” (clearly, not as good as Gold)

I began to get anxious in the waiting. I could feel my stomach climbing up to my throat as the attendant continued boarding groups:

“Priority Frequent Flyers”(nope)

“Now, Frequent Flyers may board”(still waiting)

In my panic the question occurred to me. How long could this go on? How many groups could possibly be called before it was my turn to board??

“Those who drive BMW’s”

“Passengers currently in possession of an Ipad2 may now board – proof required”

“Niemen Marcus shoppers, welcome”

“Those with full benefit Medical Coverage”

I mean really, the possibilities at this moment began to seem endless!

“Passengers traveling with a Chihuahua or other appropriately dressed dog”

“Those who still have a 401K”

“Current residents of California, welcome“

“All those traveling with more than one Apple product feel free to join us”

And as my panic began to overtake me, I feared my wait was not yet over.

“Boarding now, passengers who shop at Walmart”

“Those who watch WWF on TV”

“Those who watch WWF on TV, in their underwear”

“Those who pick their nose, while watching WWF on TV, in their underwear”

Then finally, I was roused out of my musings and impending panic attack as the attendant finally called:

“All remaining passengers”

There it was! The words I had been longing to hear. My group had finally been called. I, and the guy next to me wearing mis-matched clothes and flip-flops in winter, shuffled forward. I pretended to confidently hand the flight attendant my, by now, sweaty boarding pass – Hoping that there was still room in the overhead bins for my carry on, scheming how to gain access to a more prestigious group on future flights, smiling as more possible ‘groupings’ popped into my head, and praying that the guy who could potentially have boarded in the group right before me was not my neighbor for the next several hours.

For more Sweet Spot Travels: Go Here!