Queen of Rambles

I know you are all clamoring to read an entry full of baby puke and other bodily fluids, so I’d hate to disappoint even though I should be working. While I was gone my freelance job offered me work and I accepted, even though I am going to be cutting it really close. Erik is napping and I should be scouring the internet for college lectures, but instead I choose to inform you, my dear readers, about the joys of traveling American Airlines.

I will preface this by saying our trip out to Oregon was perfect in every way. We usually like to fly United since the trip only has one layover, but the two layover thing worked out just as I thought it would–shorter flights with breaks in between meant a less impatient baby. More running is always a good thing, especially when it is a whole lot cheaper.

The return trip went wrong the second we set foot in the airport. The very first flight, a little regional Horizon Air flight from Medford to Portland was an hour behind. It wasn’t that big of a deal and it meant we had more time with my mom, so I wasn’t stressed.

Then we arrived in Portland and all hell broke loose. The next flight was delayed by 70 minutes. We had a 55 minute layover. There was no one at the desk to help me. I was stressed out.

We were two walking sidewalks away from a children’s play area, so we headed down there and I let Erik get out some energy. He found lots of kids to play with and there were lots of nice parents who didn’t mind him begging for food and playing with their kid’s toys. There was also a super yuppie style couple who cared immensely that he wanted to play with their daughter’s squishy ball even though the daughter had zero interest in it. Seriously, people, don’t bring out toys at a public play area full of toddlers unless you intend on sharing.

Eventually I was able to get things straightened out, sort of. I would spend the night in Dallas and take a late morning flight to Baltimore. I didn’t have anything useful in my overnight bag, not even a toothbrush, but I figured that was better than flying to Seattle, having a long layover and taking a red eye to Baltimore.

I was wrong.

Oh so very wrong.

We waited and waited and waited for our flight to board.

Then we waited some more.

And some more.

Then the first class passengers were boarded, along with a few children (they don’t technically do pre-boarding any more because first class passengers complained about it, but they do it if you stand there and look like you want to go on board.) Luckily, Erik and I didn’t board. I like to go on very last, especially since I bought Erik a seat so don’t have to worry about fighting for overhead bin space.

The wait continued, and finally they de-boarded the passengers and told us the flight was cancelled. As soon as I heard that, I called Mike and made him make me a reservation at a hotel. There was no way in hell I was getting stuck sleeping in the airport all night.

I was nursing Erik behind a desk, far away from the commotion, so didn’t hear all the details and had to beg info from people after the herd took off. Erik was becoming Mr. Crabby Pants, and I was becoming Ms. Crabby Bitch. It turned out we were supposed to get our luggage, call a number for re-booking, then go to the desk to get a hotel voucher. They would not re-book us until we picked up our luggage.

I didn’t believe that for a second, so I rushed to get in the hotel voucher line. I was number 14 in line, but it took a good 45 minutes to get to the front of the line. I held Erik the entire time. My bicep muscle feels like it’s going to burst today.

We were all told to be at the airport at six the next morning and that our flight would leave at seven. I was re-booked before I even got to the counter, despite not picking up my luggage. I got a hotel voucher, but the hotel couldn’t give me a non-smoking room so I stuck with my original reservation that Mike made for me. Sleeping in a smoking room is almost as bad as sleeping at the airport.

Eventually I made it down and picked up my luggage. It sucked ass because I had a big computer box full of hand-me-down clothes and toys, plus a big suitcase, a small suitcase, two carry-ons and Erik.

I had to take a shuttle with no car seat, which made me feel like mother of the year, but what else could I do? Erik actually liked that a whole lot and got a little happier. By the time we arrived at the hotel he was back to his chipper self and I was about to die. Luckily the shuttle driver took care of my luggage for me, so I didn’t have to do too much hefting. Thank God.

I was in Portland, so wanted to contact Grain_Damaged and have a little meet-up and maybe even swoon over her Bernina, but I was so wiped out that I didn’t do anything to pursue the thought. I took a bath with Erik, leaving my pants on the floor. Erik had a grand time splashing every where, so that by the time we got out of the tub my pants were soaked. Why? WHY??????? They were my only clean pair!

We were in bed by 8:30 and that was that.

The next day started out way too early, but wasn’t bad until we got into the airport and no one knew what was going on. We were supposed to be able to just drop off our luggage and use our old boarding passes.

Not so.

We all had to get in line, then they told us to use the self-service machines but those didn’t work, then they yelled at us. I was ready to blow a gasket, especially after I sat Erik on the counter and the woman yelled “Holy Jesus! Get him off of there!” at me. No need to yell, stupid American employee! I had his monkey leash on him and the gals behind me helped quite a bit with him, but it was still a nightmare.

The plane left a lot later than it was supposed to. Erik had a nasty diaper on that plane, but there was a changing table and it was ok. MommyProf gives wonderful, practical child advice on her blog and I’ve always followed her diaper guideline even though it seems excessive: one diaper per hour of travel. I had enough diapers that I was passing them out like candy to other moms who were totally out and I still got home with four in my diaper bag. I’d much rather be over-prepared than under-prepared.

When we landed in Dallas I knew there was no way we’d make our next flight, but we looked at the screens and found it was still boarding. The girls who had helped me with Erik were headed to Baltimore as well and told me they’d tell them to hold the plane. We all took off at a dead run from gate 15, hoping to make it to gate 33. Unfortunately, the gates in Dallas are not on both sides of the terminal so we had a LONG run. Running an hour on the elliptical is nothing to running in the airport in flip-flops and falling down pants, with a 30 pound screaming kid in your arm and heavy, flapping bags over your shoulder. I ran until I thought I was going to puke, but I finally had to give up. As expected, I missed the flight. So did the girls.

Then it was off to the next flight! The agents were both extremely rude and hostile to all of us. In fact, the one helping the girls basically called them liars about missing their flights until me and an old woman yelled from the line that we were also on the flight. They were able to book us all on the flight, but were not able to seat Erik and I together. I just started laughing and told them whoever Erik was sitting with could have fun. Eventually they did get us seated together, of course, but it was still one more piece of stress I didn’t need.

By that time Erik and I were both done for and I started crying when the guy at TGI Friday’s asked how I was. I love it when I cry in public. He was the nicest airport employee I met on the whole trip. How sad is that?

Guess what happened next? The plane had mechanical problems and was delayed!

I sat our stuff down next to a woman with a couple of kids and she was extremely helpful and kind. She watched our stuff while Erik and I wandered all over the airport, begging for food. Yet again, the child wouldn’t eat a single bite I offered him but managed to get popcorn, banana chips and a chicken nugget from total strangers. The chicken nugget was later thrown at the airline agent. Hard. It missed. Obviously I wasn’t the one throwing it, or I wouldn’t have missed. It was really hard to reprimand the boy for doing something I wanted to do.

Erik did pretty well on the plane until he had a nasty blow-out. I’d forgotten I moved my wipes to a better location so could only find one lone wipe in the old location. There were no changing tables. I asked what I was supposed to do, but no one could give me an answer, so I just stood him up in my seat and changed him. I hated to do it because the people around us didn’t need to smell that, but what else could I do? Interesting note: the only rude guy in our little area was a minister who kept talking about Jesus with his seat mate. I don’t think that is typical, but it sure did give me a dim view of his particular faith.

We got that all taken care of, then the boy thankfully fell asleep. Only, it wasn’t so great to have him asleep because he was on me and it just about killed my back. Suddenly he woke up, looked right at me, and projectile vomited copious amounts of orange curdled breast milk all over my shirt and pants.

The flight attendant brought me wet paper towels, but there really wasn’t much I could do. I was soaking wet and stinky and remained that way for the next two hours. Our planned 2 1/2 hour flight was re-routed because of the delay and the new route took an extra hour. I didn’t think we were ever going to get off that fucking plane.

Eventually we did, of course. I hit the gift shop and bought a shirt (since I STUPIDLY removed my clean shirt from the carry-on since I was confident nothing would happen and was desperate to get rid of a little weight), which didn’t fit.

I think I actually cried when I finally saw Mike and threw Erik at him.

Once we got in the car, it smelled so bad that I took my pants off and Mike threw them in the trunk. The trip home was a blast. Our A/C went out before I left and we aren’t throwing another $1,500 at our car. We’re getting a new this month because of all the problems we’ve had with this piece of shit Saturn, but that didn’t help as we travelled in the heat with a kid who wouldn’t stop screaming.

At least it was peaceful when we arrived home. Mike is the Best Husband Ever. Seriously. There is none better. While gone, he had cleaned everything, including the fridge. He re-organized all our shit. He had fresh linens on the bed. He had stocked up on our favorite foods. He steam cleaned the carpets. He installed my new laptop keyboard so I have an 8 key again (whole ‘nother post about the shitheads at Dell). He had fresh roses on the table! It was wonderful!

Of course, I quickly ruined all that today when I un-packed, but it was still great to come home to such a clean house.

If you managed to read all that, you deserve a reward! Will a few pictures do?

The Cousins

Erik and Braxton were inseparable little buddies.

Four Generations

My mom’s birthday party. Sadly, this was the best picture I got of Laynee.

A nightmare of a family photo.

Erik’s on popper scooper duty.

The only picture I managed to get of my mom’s finished quilt. Too bad she is holding it upside down!

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 10th, 2007 at 7:12 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.