I don't understand why it takes so long for people to walk onto a plane. Or put their luggage away or take it out again or walk off a plane. Especially that - getting off. Don't we all want to leave? Don't we like breathing air?
Drakeson and I had to get back to Austin. Our flight was scheduled to depart Dulles at 10:10 am on Oct 30, so we checked in online precisely 24 hours in advance for an early boarding position. We got A49, which isn't bad. We had the flu.
Getting through security is always a pain in the ass, even when you're not carrying a baby with your luggage. Shoes, my laptop, diaper cream, and sunscreen must be examined. Whatever. We got to the terminal, and the incoming flight was an "honor" flight. That means there were lots of veterans flying into DC, and they required lots of assistance. And by lots of assistance, I mean they required three quarters of an hour to walk off the plane. Boarding, of course, didn't begin until after our our plane was scheduled to be on its way to Chicago. As Drakeson and I were uncomfortably wedged in line at A49, he pooped. The line didn't move because, as previously mentioned, people take a very long time to board a plane. The aroma spread from A46 to A53. With luggage and a diaper bag hanging off one shoulder and Drakeson balanced on my other hip, we very slowly waddled to the front of the gate. Immediately, the bitch there sent us to the front desk. "There is not enough documentation for Drakeson." What the hell was she afraid of? Did I go to the airport that morning, command the check-in machines to print out something for a baby I didn't have, abduct the first baby I found that looked like me and smelled like shit, just to pull the wool over her eyes? The front desk took its time. All of group A boarded. Most of group B was through by the time we had some other document - one that was so convincing in fact, that this time, we were allowed to ride the plane.
By then, of course, all the aisle seats were taken. I asked some aisle guy in a suit permission to sit in that window seat. Uninterested, he went through the ordeal of picking up his computer and putting up the tray and standing and all of that. You know what Im talking about. After the rest of the passengers boarded, I flagged down the stewardess and explained that I needed to change a diaper. She panicked and acted annoyed. Then she tried to get me to change Drakeson right next to the suit guy, who also panicked and acted annoyed. I was reluctantly granted permission to use the lavatory, so the suit guy did his ordeal with the computer. The bloody closet had no changing station so I had to change Drakeson vertically. He was so angry, he stomped around, making more of a mess.
There was a layover in Chicago. I carried the bags and the baby from the very end of one terminal to the very end of the other. It took me forever, but there were still 2 hours to kill. After about 5 minutes of trying to keep Drakeson off the dirty floor, we decided to go fill his water bottle. Naturally, my luggage could have been concealing bombs, so I hauled everything over to a water fountain. That way, Drakeson could throw his full water bottle onto the airport floor. We were bored. We made it to the corner snack bar, but nothing was worth getting. We took two walkways to the next store, which had all the same shit as the corner snack bar. Fine. I purchased a grilled veggie wrap for $7.99 plus tax, and it was nearly the worst meal I've ever had in my life. The tortilla had been sitting in liquid for days and had turned into a paste. The contents were old and soggy, and coated in more tortilla paste. I felt the need to eat this, because $7.99 plus tax is not nothing. Drakeson had no interest in it whatsoever, because it was gross, and because $7.99 plus tax really is nothing. I had to focus just to keep it down.
We got position A48 from Chicago to Austin, which was good, because Drakeson needed to nurse. Assuming the flight was going to be full, I asked to sit next to an elderly couple in the front. Let's call them, "Old bastard and old bitch." The old bastard asked, "What, is it a full flight or something?" I said, "I'm not sure. There were a lot of people behind us." The old bitch started bitching, and the old bastard started bitching. That was enough of them. By this time, all aisle and window seats had been taken. With no other choice, Drakeson and I squeezed into a middle seat. I didn't know how the strangers would feel about breastfeeding in such close quarters, but it needed to happen. Drakeson was too big to lie on his side, so I awkwardly leaned backwards to balance the rest of his body with my knees. We coughed all over everybody. The flight took two and a half hours and felt like nine.
Drakeson and I had to get back to Austin. Our flight was scheduled to depart Dulles at 10:10 am on Oct 30, so we checked in online precisely 24 hours in advance for an early boarding position. We got A49, which isn't bad. We had the flu.
Getting through security is always a pain in the ass, even when you're not carrying a baby with your luggage. Shoes, my laptop, diaper cream, and sunscreen must be examined. Whatever. We got to the terminal, and the incoming flight was an "honor" flight. That means there were lots of veterans flying into DC, and they required lots of assistance. And by lots of assistance, I mean they required three quarters of an hour to walk off the plane. Boarding, of course, didn't begin until after our our plane was scheduled to be on its way to Chicago. As Drakeson and I were uncomfortably wedged in line at A49, he pooped. The line didn't move because, as previously mentioned, people take a very long time to board a plane. The aroma spread from A46 to A53. With luggage and a diaper bag hanging off one shoulder and Drakeson balanced on my other hip, we very slowly waddled to the front of the gate. Immediately, the bitch there sent us to the front desk. "There is not enough documentation for Drakeson." What the hell was she afraid of? Did I go to the airport that morning, command the check-in machines to print out something for a baby I didn't have, abduct the first baby I found that looked like me and smelled like shit, just to pull the wool over her eyes? The front desk took its time. All of group A boarded. Most of group B was through by the time we had some other document - one that was so convincing in fact, that this time, we were allowed to ride the plane.
By then, of course, all the aisle seats were taken. I asked some aisle guy in a suit permission to sit in that window seat. Uninterested, he went through the ordeal of picking up his computer and putting up the tray and standing and all of that. You know what Im talking about. After the rest of the passengers boarded, I flagged down the stewardess and explained that I needed to change a diaper. She panicked and acted annoyed. Then she tried to get me to change Drakeson right next to the suit guy, who also panicked and acted annoyed. I was reluctantly granted permission to use the lavatory, so the suit guy did his ordeal with the computer. The bloody closet had no changing station so I had to change Drakeson vertically. He was so angry, he stomped around, making more of a mess.
There was a layover in Chicago. I carried the bags and the baby from the very end of one terminal to the very end of the other. It took me forever, but there were still 2 hours to kill. After about 5 minutes of trying to keep Drakeson off the dirty floor, we decided to go fill his water bottle. Naturally, my luggage could have been concealing bombs, so I hauled everything over to a water fountain. That way, Drakeson could throw his full water bottle onto the airport floor. We were bored. We made it to the corner snack bar, but nothing was worth getting. We took two walkways to the next store, which had all the same shit as the corner snack bar. Fine. I purchased a grilled veggie wrap for $7.99 plus tax, and it was nearly the worst meal I've ever had in my life. The tortilla had been sitting in liquid for days and had turned into a paste. The contents were old and soggy, and coated in more tortilla paste. I felt the need to eat this, because $7.99 plus tax is not nothing. Drakeson had no interest in it whatsoever, because it was gross, and because $7.99 plus tax really is nothing. I had to focus just to keep it down.
We got position A48 from Chicago to Austin, which was good, because Drakeson needed to nurse. Assuming the flight was going to be full, I asked to sit next to an elderly couple in the front. Let's call them, "Old bastard and old bitch." The old bastard asked, "What, is it a full flight or something?" I said, "I'm not sure. There were a lot of people behind us." The old bitch started bitching, and the old bastard started bitching. That was enough of them. By this time, all aisle and window seats had been taken. With no other choice, Drakeson and I squeezed into a middle seat. I didn't know how the strangers would feel about breastfeeding in such close quarters, but it needed to happen. Drakeson was too big to lie on his side, so I awkwardly leaned backwards to balance the rest of his body with my knees. We coughed all over everybody. The flight took two and a half hours and felt like nine.
Home with Daddy
