Just between you and me, I have a fear that runs deeper than my fear of snakes, heights, and nuclear war combined:
Flying on an airplane with Seabass.
It’s not because he’s a baby. It’s not even because he’s a crazed psycho baby. It’s because in all of my travels, whenever I saw a baby on board, I would inwardly roll my eyes and curse the parents. WHY in the WORLD does this family INSIST on traveling with their baby?!? Audible sigh.
And now I’m the one insisting on flying with a [loud, demanding] baby and everyone else will be cursing me. Because? Seabass is making his airplane debut in just a matter of days.
I feel safe placing all of the blame on my mother. She’s the one who suggested I bring the baby up to Idaho for three weeks this summer. She enticed me with descriptions of warm sunshine, free babysitting, and hours floating in the lake. It sounded like a good idea at the time. So I agreed to fly up with Le Seabass – ALONE – at the end of June.
Jake will fly up on his own for the middle week, lucky bastard. He’s already planning all of the fun things he’s going to do the weeks preceding and following his trip. “As many crappy action movies as I want!” was his reponse when I asked how he would fill up his lonesome nights.
I asked a friend in the know what to do about traveling with C. “Just shut up and take it like a man,” she said.
So I asked a different friend how to go about it. “Hm,” she mused. “I once received a little goodie bag from a mom with a young child sitting next to me on a flight. It contained a set of new earplugs, a mini Snickers bar, and a note saying ‘Sorry about the kid.’ It was brilliant.”
Indeed, it is brilliant. So I’m putting together goodie bags of the same nature to give to my seatmates on the six – count ’em: SIX – flights to and from Oma’s house in Idaho. I plan on using the same formula of note, candy, and earplugs. I’ve already made up the notes. Would you like to read one?
The thing I like most about this goodie bag idea is that it reaches outside the boundaries we put around ourselves as air passengers and diffuses a little of the pain of an uncomfortable situation. (A little, but not all. I’m guessing that Snickers bar will only be halfway eaten before my seatmates return to cursing me.)
P.S. For those of you who might suggest drugging the little guppy for the flight, please see Exhibit A.