Sunday, November 20, 2011

Over the river and through the woods.....and then through security checkpoints, a six hour flight, hitting the rental car counter....

I was a late bloomer as far as traveling goes. I never even rode on an airplane until I was 15 years old, and that was only from Maine to New York to appear on the Montel Williams Show. I'm not even kidding.

Air travel was magical to me. When I started dating Ben and flying off to exotic places (to me) like Georgia and California, I wondered how flying could ever get old to anyone. I would always book a window seat and watch in awe as we ascended and descended. During the flight, I was pumped. TV at eight bazillion feet? YEAH! Snackies while soaring over the Midwest? Yes, please! It was all magical, and I felt bad for the people who moaned and groaned about boarding a plane and zooming off to wherever they were going.

Now? I frigging hate flying anywhere, for any reason, unless I'm flying all by myself and have taken at least ten milligrams of Valium and don't have any luggage to deal with. And the in-flight movie better not have Jim Carey or Sandra Bullock in it, or I'm going to make the no-fly list.

Having family on the east coast while we live on the west coast = frequent flier miles being racked up, big time. I have a baby. A baby that wants to roam the cabin, drink my diet coke, and molest any passenger within two feet of us in a Hugh Hefner kind of manner. Since he can't be checked with the rest of our luggage, he has to accompany us in the cabin of the airplane, and he has completely killed any of the magic air travel used to hold. So, tomorrow we will be boarding a plane for the east coast. I have loaded the iPad with his favorite Sesame Street episodes, packed seven lollipops in my carry-on, selected a fine assortment of noisy toys that will hold his interest for at least 30 seconds while royally pissing off our fellow passengers for at least 3 hours, and I bought Benadryl. Because it turns out I'm not above knocking his little butt out for a few hours to finally get some peace and quiet while making the grueling trip back home.

Over the river and through the woods, indeed. I envy the simpleton that wrote that stupid song.

4 comments:

Nicole said...

Thanks for the early morning read and I am all for knocking the little guy out ;)

Ingrid said...

I'm so glad I did. Don't tell the Peas ;)

Colleen said...

I do NOT miss those days when Sean was a baby and I had to fly out to visit my mom in Fresno a couple times. He too... was not at all interested in sitting quietly on my lap.

Drugs are bad. Except when they are good.

Ingrid said...

ROFL! Indeed!