I am happy to pre-board our flight because my husband and I are traveling with three children under the age of 6 and have three car seats, five carry on bags, my large purse and a stroller. We need the extra time to get the kids situated, attach the car seats and gate check the stroller.
The flight starts out bad from our first steps onto the plane. The flight attendant that is greeting people getting onto the plane loses her smile when she sees me struggling with all the kids and the bags we are carrying. “What row are you in?” She asks in a stone voice. (What? No Hello or Welcome?) “We have five seats in row 1,” I answer in a sweeter than usual voice. This time her voice exaggerates despair, “Oh-NO! That is the WORST row for families because there is no under the seat storage. The next time they ask you if you want row 1, you need to say NO THANK YOU!” I look at her pursed lips and say, “She didn’t ask me, she just gave us these seats. So do you mean that we won’t have access to our bags during the flight?” “No, they must be stowed and I will have to try and find room for everything overhead. There is limited space, you know.” Great. We have already irritated our flight attendant with all our carry-on baggage and I don’t have what I need to keep the kids busy. STRIKE ONE.
We are then informed that two of our three seats are not in compliance with airline regulations and may not be used. The flight attendant informs me that there is no room to store them overhead and they will need to be gate checked. Knowing that we need them for the car rental, I question if we will ever see them again in one piece. I tell our flight attendant, “I have had a car seat broken before through gate check. If there is not room overhead, I understand, but you must assure me that our seats will not get broken.” She must agree with my concerns because magically, she is able to find overhead storage for both seats. It is the nicest thing she does for us the entire flight but she is still not happy. STRIKE TWO.
Once the baby’s seat is securely fastened to the plane, I place him in it and sit next to him as I read him a book. From the corner of my eye, I watch a woman step onto the plane, look at her seat assignment, look at us, and whisper something to the flight attendant. The flight attendant not so quietly answers her by saying, “I can see if someone will switch with you but it is a full flight.” I clench my teeth and try not to stare at either of them. I look at my baby boy’s sweet smile and wonder “are we really THAT bad?” The kid hater finds a person to switch with. He is a teenage boy who travels light with only a sweatshirt and an IPOD. He is quiet and doesn’t seem to be bothered by us in the least.
For the remainder of the flight, we apparently continue to annoy the flight attendant by asking for straws for the boys, water instead of juice, and by getting up for three bathroom trips. STRIKE THREE, FOUR and FIVE. Each time I see her roll her eyes and turn with a huff, I question if she should really be in a job with such direct customer service. After all, they are just little kids. They can’t help it if they have to go to the bathroom when the seatbelt sign is on.
I am more than relieved when we begin our final descent. We have made it through the flight with minimal noise from the baby. I am stressed from the constant job of keeping my baby happy and quiet, not an easy task. I am exhausted from counting, singing and playing “sock gloves.” (I discovered long ago that I could take off my baby’s socks and put them on his hands. Babies spend long amounts of time trying to take the socks off their hands, giggling the entire time.) We have looked through Sky Mall twice, pointing out every animal we see and he has eaten my last emergency lollipop.
I prepare myself for the chore of unloading our children and our gear from the plane in order to race over to the next gate. This stop is only our connection. We are about to do this all over again. I take a deep breathe and smile as I think about the drink cart on the next flight.