Airports: The New Birth Control

The holidays are a beautiful time to spend with family and friends. If you're like me, it's also a time to daydream about the future family that you'll one day create on your own. It goes something like this: rosy-cheeked children in footie pajamas, hot cocoa with way too many marshmallows, maybe a dog and a cat thrown into the mix when the whole family piles onto the couch to watch A Charlie Brown Chrismas for the upteenth time.

Ah, sweet fantasy.

However, something awaits to shatter my illusions during this magical time of the year. This dark force? Airports. And the families that travel within them.

This past Wednesday, I attempted to make it from Charlotte, NC to Great Exuma Island, Bahamas. The first leg of my trip? Charlotte to Atlanta. It went a little something like this:

7am: I slide into my aisle seat and breathe a sigh of relief that
1) I actually made my flight (it was iffy there until I broke into a full-on sprint to the gate), and
2) that I can shove my carry-on and purse as big as a suitcase under the seat with such ease. My fellow passenger in his window seat is already fast asleep. This is going to be so easy!

7:03am: A harried woman precariously carrying a diaper bag, rolling suitcase, and baby on her hip gives me a guilty smile that can only mean one thing: she's coming in.

7:04am: With an apologetic smile, she asks if I would be willing to move into the middle seat. I notice her baby has snot caterpillars starting to slide out of his nose. I kindly agree. (Not only because I am Working On My Zen, but because I was trying to get away from the snot. Like I don't deal with enough of that day-to-day.)

7:15am: Our scheduled takeoff time, in which we are cheerfully informed by the captain that we will be sitting on the runway until 8am.

7:16am: Snot baby starts to fuss. Mom talks to him as though he is not, in fact, an 18 month old, but a full-grown adult that comprehends phrases such as "Please stop crying" or "You are bothering everyone". (Hey lady? If that worked, I would have tried it 10 minutes ago.)

7:22am: Mother of Snot Baby attempts to console him with a portable DVD player and Baby Einstein video. He responds by flinging said player across the aisle, where it falls at the feet of a very nice looking lady. I pretend to hyper focus on my US Weekly.

7:30am: Baby is simulatenously snotting and crying. My brain begins screaming HOW ARE WE NOT THERE ALREADY? before I realize we haven't even taken off yet.

7:43am: We are miraculously cleared for takeoff 17 min earlier than scheduled. My white-knuckle grip on the arms of my seat begins to loosen.

7:50am: Baby stops crying.

7:51am: Baby starts crying.

7:58am: I attempt to listen to my self-help audiobook in order to Find My Zen, but can't hear it over the baby wailing. Start to wonder if this is a test of My Zen, and realize that I am probably sliding by with a solid C+.

8:07am: The captain informs us we are 15 to 20 minutes away from landing in Atlanta. I attempt to hold back my tears of gratitude.

8:11am: Mom attempts to bring out the DVD player again. (See "7:22am".)

8:14am: The DVD player appears again. Really, lady? No one needs bruises in addtion to ear damage from your child's screaming.

8:28am: We land in ATL. I try to avoid shouting "It's a CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!"

8:31am: I book it out of the gate, past where Mom is waiting for her child's stroller is being delivered to her. I keep my head down in order to
1) reduce interaction, and
2)build up as much speed as possible.

I don't mean to sound like such a Scrooge. I don't fault that woman for traveling with her baby during the holidays. I only fault her for booking the same flight and sitting next to me.

But really, she didn't seem like she was having that much fun either. From the schleping of a million bags and strollers, to the constant nose-wiping, and the screaming and subsequent shushing, I could only think of one word: miserable.

I guess it's good karma to be kind even in the face of boogers that come way too close and near-death experiences at the hands of flying DVD players. I'll need it one day when I'm a mom.

(And by "one day", I mean "when pigs fly/hell freezes over". Or when I can have a full-time nanny.)

On another note, this Christmas Eve I hope you are somewhere warm and safe, surrounded by love even if those you care about are very far away.