The pain…
By nutcase101. Filed in Future, Pleas of Desperation |
In the lobby for our return flight to Houston, I sat with B, patiently waiting for our plane to be called I took a visual sweep of the lounge. Then the terror started to set in: we were surrounded by slobbering, gurgling, cuteness – BABIES!
Now, I’m not a baby hater. NOT.AT.ALL. I know it’s a complete crapshoot if you’re going to have a child on the plane, especially one still in it’s infantile stage. Kids, you can give the glare if they start to kick your seat. When the child gets too rambunctious, you page the flight attendant and convince them that the child is really a midget terrorist that needs full restraints.
But a baby. That’s a gamble unto itself.
I nervously watched, waiting for “Ladies and Gentleman, we’re now pre-boarding for your flight to hell. People who need assistance or extra time to board or people with children under the age of four are now welcome to board.” I was hoping that maybe the baby convention was really on the flight to L.A. because maybe Gerber had a huge open call for a commercial. Or that there would only be one stroller going down the ramp to my plane, then I’d have odds that our seats would not be near the potential bomb of scream. So, I watch as the announcement for assistance or kids is played over the intercom.
One stroller goes down the ramp.
Then there goes a dad with a child seat and mother holding her pile of cuteness.
“Phew, only two.” I whisper in B’s ear. He knows what’s going on because we’ve been toddled over to by an adorable sticky mess several times, because the babies smell our fear.
Then it’s our time to board with our seats near the front of the plane and we note that the babies are strategically behind us, one near the middle of the plane and the other by the bathroom. (At least if I have to go twosies in the plane lavatory, I can totally give the ‘eewwww stinky diaper face’ when I walk out.)
B and I get settled, feeling safe and secure that the jet engines will drown out any noise that might occur and then it happens.
“Excuse us.” “What? We have to gate check the stroller?” “Are there still two seats together?”
Mom. Dad. BABY!!!!
Two rows in front of us the new parents struggle with their bundle of precious joy who is cooing and bubbling with cuteness. And that’s when it ALL goes to hell.
As we taxi and the engines start up, baby in the middle give the signal of cohesiveness to his generation mates. The pre-flight ear test wail is sound with the other two babies harmonizing. As we take off the babies decide to cry in rounds as their little ears pop in discomfort and make sure that one baby is breathing, another set of lungs is powerfully letting out a screech to make up for the silence.
One and a half hours later, those three creatures that don’t total 60lbs, have completely shriveled up my ovaries and caused me to become peri-menopausal. And as soon as the wheels hit the ground, the signal went out that the age set of under 12 months job was done. One went into nap mode, another decided to feed and the one in front of us, back to full on cuteness.
And I swear, the one in front, she gave me a smirk and a wink over her mother’s shoulder as they disembarked.
Those babies can totally smell fear.
*Note to parents: I know that it’s hard to keep an infant quiet on a plane and you have no control over the situation.*
Tuesday, October 6th 2009 at 10:13 pm |
My flight from hell happened when I flew from Halifax to Toroto with a yappy fucking dog right.behind.me. For 2 hours I had to endure this yappy dog in a carry one. I thought that dogs were to checked WTF? During our lay over in Toronto I said to DF I’d rather be on a flight with 20 screaming babies than one yappy dog. Our next flight which was 4 hours had no less than 6 babies all prefered to the dog.
Wednesday, October 7th 2009 at 3:06 pm |
LOL at the babies smelling your fear.