Our latest adventure brought us to Melbourne. Mark had work obligations so we joined him for a long weekend. I flew down solo with my rambunctious, but oh so adorable little guys. They look so sweet and serene in this picture…
…but looks can be deceiving. They scurried around the airport zig zagging here and there, running into people, all while they repeatedly shouted, “QUANTAS!” some thought it was cute, others did not. I’m THAT mom with the crazy kids that I can’t control!
As the boys and I sat at the gate waiting for our plane to arrive, we copped a squat on the floor near the entrance to the jetway. I began to stuff their little faces in hopes of keeping them occupied and quiet. While feeding time was underway a woman and man approached our little area and sat close by. I had to fight the desire to stare at this woman, and I was crossing my fingers that Parker wouldn’t ask one of his loud, inappropriate questions like, “Mommy, why does that man have hair on his back and not his head?” The woman had greasy, scraggly hair with several colorful barrettes scattered about. Her muffin top spilled over her denim shorts, while her dirty pink t-shirt rose above her waistband. She had mismatched socks and unique looking hi-top sneakers. It was not pretty. To add insult to injury I could see her wavy cellulite thighs and cheekage area dripping out of her shorts. How can one not stare at that?! I wanted to call the fashion patrol on her. (I sound like such a snob, but come on; I could see her butt cheeks!) I could only imagine what Parker was going to say about her; I held my breath… Fortunately he remarked instead on her reading material, which was a footy magazine. While looking through the pages she remarked loudly, “Oh there you are, you were hiding on the next page!” and proceeded to kiss the pages with loud smacking noises. I began to think she had special needs and felt bad for wanting to call the fashion patrol.
When the plane arrived, and while the passengers exited, Reid decided to spring up from our comfy spot on the matte, filthy carpet and run through the security doors and on to the jetway. I sprinted after him, scooped him up against his protests, while one of the airline attendants chased after me with a fearful yet disgusted look on her face that said, “Control your child!” I returned a screaming Reid to the gate area where the waiting passengers glanced up to wear the same disgusted look on their faces, and then quickly glanced down again at their phones, or whatever else was holding their attention. Luckily, Parker remained seated eating his granola bar covered in its crumbs. As Reid and I resumed our position on the floor the special needs woman yelled to the airline attendant, “Can you please repeat what you just said, I missed it because of that screaming kid.” I glared at her. She looked at me and said, “What, your kid was screaming and I didn’t hear the announcement!” This woman’s volume was offensive and everything she uttered was in a whiny, high-pitched shout. I gathered up our belongings, got the boys up – leaving crumbs scattered on our spot like glitter - and walked outside the gate waiting area. I was fuming and thought; oh I hope we’re not sitting next to them on the plane.
I have an airplane boarding strategy that Mark disagrees with, but I hold steady to, and that is I board last. I don’t need overhead bin space because if you’re traveling with children you need all the tools, tricks, and trade at your ready, which means under the seat in front of you. I also despise feeling like I’m a nameless cow in a cattle call where everyone rushes to the front only to wait in the queue, or on the jetway, OR in the airplane aisle. Besides, if I waited in the queue like everyone else the boys would begin crawling between peoples legs, chasing each other, or wrestling right there on the grimy airport floor. Why is it that being in public brings out the worst in my little darlings?!
So because I didn’t have Mark with me to contradict my strategy, we waited to board until the last instant. As we marched on to the jetway I thought about the poor passengers around our seats that jealously gazed at our 3 empty seats, plotting their move from their purgatorial middle seat, to the tantalizing window or spacious aisle seats in the empty row. Sorry suckers, not only are we coming to occupy them, but I’ve got kids! But on this airplane it wasn’t my boys who were going to annoy the passengers around us, it was the crazy, denim underwear lady and her peculiar boyfriend who happened to be sitting right behind us! I cursed Murphy, for it was his law that just bit me!
We pulled away from the gate and the crazy lady; we’ll call her Maleficent, started talking, and when I say talking I mean yapping! She wouldn’t stop asking her boyfriend “Is it time, can we watch the computer?” Then proclaiming to everyone around her, “We have a computer and get to watch stuff in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6 …” and then she would get to 1 and start her countdown all over again! She didn’t stop until she heard the ding that sounds at 10,000 feet. Then she loudly cheered and squealed. I wanted to shoot myself. Parker kept asking, “What is she counting?”
That ding also signified it was iPad time for us, which meant I got to read, oh glorious reading time. I was relieved when Maleficent and her beloved began watching something. However, instead of being polite airline passengers and respecting their fellow travellers by using headphones, they had their computer blaring an episode of the Family Guy. I ignored it and dove into my book.
The flight was short, thankfully, and upon descent when it was ‘time to turn off all portable electronic devices’ I cringed as I had to soothe an upset Reid and I knew Maleficent would start up again. Well that she did. She started barking, “It’s kissy time, come on give me a kissy, kissy, kissy! This went on during the entire descent. Once we reached our jetway and we were able to ‘unfasten our safety belts’ the lovebirds stood up and she started trying to take his shirt off because she was screaming that she was cold. This turned into a tickle session with squeals and laughter that was so confusing and shocking! There were bulging eyes, wrinkly foreheads, and gaping mouths displayed on every surrounding passenger. This was just too weird.
We arrived at baggage claim and were delighted to find Mark who was probably a bit surprised to find his stunned-into-silence wife and Tasmanian devil sons. Not only was my silence because the boys exhausted me, but because I was still processing the oddity of Maleficent and her bf.
Airplane travel, when you think about it, is such an unusual experience: sociological and scientific. A group of strangers cram into a steel hull, sit uncomfortably together - largely in silence - fly through the air! - which I still don’t understand how that’s possible; yeah yeah, I get the whole air lift thing, but really?! - and then arrive in another location. Other than a slight smile, nod of the head, or surface question, I rarely make an exchange with my fellow passengers. This strange encounter with Maleficent left many brief exchanges between the passengers on the JetStar flight; be it an eye roll or eyebrow raise. It's always a shared experience that brings people together and makes an experience filled with discomfort more comfortable. I say 'discomfort' because I hate flying and am uncomfortable every time I journey into the friendly skies. For some reason, it doesn't get any easier for me. At the end of this voyage I was just happy to be with my hubby and away from the freaky, sociological focus of my day. I really wish there was a fashion patrol; they would have carted her off.
Stay tuned for the rest of our Melbourne trip...
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