I'm Leaving On a Jet Plane...

Last Saturday little Will and I flew with my sister and her baby, Eli, to Tennessee for a visit with my parents. Regrettably, the husbands stayed in Utah to work.

I've never loved flying with a plane full of babies, but until this past weekend, I'd never done it with a baby of my own. Suffice it to say, Hell knows no wrath like that of an overtired, overstimulated six-month-old baby boy.

Our flight left at a little before five in the evening - just before boarding, Will started to get a little fussy. I could tell he was hungry, so I prayed that our flight would be quiet, calm, and safe. In retrospect, I'm now thinking that perhaps my prayer was offered a little late.

Anyway, as usual, our Delta flight was overbooked. Excuse my aside, but what is with the overbooking thing? Seriously? It's nice to know now that when I buy a plane ticket, I might or might not actually have a seat on the plane. Back to the story - well, I was already a little stressed just from anticipation and from the fact that I'd had to unload a few things from my suitcase at the ticket counter because my bag was two pounds overweight ($90 extra for an overweight bag on Delta, people!), so fussiness did not help.

As I headed onto the plane, I slung my baby bag and personal bag over my shoulder, stuck Will on my hip, and moved into the aisle, effortlessly smacking every person I passed on the head. As I inched my way down the tiny, cramped aisle, searching for my seat at the back of the plane, I could see the frightened eyes of every person on the plane drop to their laps, studiously avoiding mine. It was like each individual thought that if he didn't make eye contact, I and the baby would keep going and disaster (sitting next to a fussy baby and his frantic mother for three and a half hours) would be averted.

Finally, I made it down the miles of plane and reached my seat to find it occupied by a very large individual who did indeed have a boarding pass for the exact same seat. To get me and my whining baby out of the way, the flight attendant (who, to her credit, was very kind but flustered) had me move to the one empty row of seats at the very back of the plane. Relieved, I asked if I could stay, but NO! The occupants were late, but on their way. Finally, the large person was moved elsewhere, and I, completely at my wits' end, moved into my seat with my now practically hysterical baby. The Baptist preacher/gospel performer I sat next to was awfully nice, but I know our doomed flight was just about as hard on him as it was on me and baby Will.

Anyway, despite my most heroic efforts, Will was not to be placated. I tried to nurse, to give him a bottle, to amuse him, to rock him, and he in turn screamed, flailed and did his best to expose my bare chest to the entire plane. He whined, he cried, he wailed, he thrashed, he sobbed - you name it, he did it. For three and a half hours. That's two hundred ten agonizingly slow minutes and twelve thousand six hundred seconds. I believe I was horribly aware of each passing one. The only time he was quiet was when I stood up in the aisle, talking to Becca and Eli two rows back. I know the person sitting across the aisle from Becca had my bum in his face for about twenty minutes. Sorry, buddy. I just couldn't take it anymore.

Finally, so completely exhausted he could no longer open his mouth to scream, Will fell asleep across my knees. For ten minutes. And then we arrived at the gate. I felt so completely frazzled at that point that I thought I would prefer walking back to Utah, pushing my things in a handcart, to getting on another plane again. It seems God had ignored my prayer - at least the parts about calm and quiet.

Interestingly, the return flight, dreaded though it was, went off beautifully. It was a morning flight, which I think helped enormously, and Will was happy, cheerful, and giggly. I had bottles prepared, rice puffs to chew on, books handy, and Benadryl in case of emergencies. I can't begin to describe the contrast between the two experiences. Everyone kept saying, "Oh, your baby is so beautiful and well-behaved!" HA!!! Had they only seen the demonic nature of our previous flight, they might have thought differently.

Anyway, lessons learned? Morning flight = good. Gerber rice puffs = effective distraction. Small doses of Benadryl = bliss.