This week, we are travelling to Seattle, so that we all can be together while my wife works at her actual place of work with her actual people. I can certainly appreciate the need for this. I mean, even though she worked there while we used to live here a year or so ago, over time, sometimes when a voice on the phone or an email is all that's left of a person, to prevent them from disappearing into the ether, we need to be physically present from time to time. I get it.
So I ran around the house yesterday like a chicken with my head cut off getting everyting ready to go. When you travel with a baby, you need to bring a TON OF SHIT (please pardon my language) with you. All items to support the child. You try to make the experience as close to "normal" as you can, so the kid doesn't freak out. You try to bring all the kid's toys, the kid's bowl and spoon, the kid's blanket, etc etc. Creature conforts. All the while you hope you remember to pack at least one pair of clean underwear for yourself. I get it.
I had no small amount of anxiety about this. Joy is now 6 month old (!) and this is the first time we travelled. I told my wife on the drive to the airport, while I was trying to maintain a steady breathing pattern, that we were about to "turn into those people who travel with an infant". You've all been there. You've all had the experience while flying to Chicago for the family reunion or Detroit for that meeting that nobody actually wants to be at. You've all watched that parent or those parents struggle with the child that will not be consoled and absolutely screams the ENTIRE TIME! You've all felt maybe a little sympathy looking at these grown men and women who have been beaten down by this child, looking for all the world homeless and unclean. There is an icy hollowness in their eyes. You wonder if their soul has left the building. You almost want to approach and offer assistance but are scared they'll turn into zombies and eat your tasty brains. The fear is real. The look is real. The danger is... real, and you know it, so you continue on your way. At the same time you are feeling all this wholesome sympathy, you're also feeling anger. I mean this kid wailed for hours, and how were you supposed to be able to focus on the latest Dan Brown novel? Yeah, you were violated. There you were, minding you're own business (that's a mandatory phrase in this case, right?) and your ears were raped by this child. This (seemingly... HAH) innocent, helpless, beautiful, perfect human being just ruined your flight (?) to whatever boneheaded location you were heading. Not the TSA who strip searched you, and weren't even gentle, not the baggage handlers who lost your luggage (yeah right, they sell the good stuff, and they know that your bag is full of awesome stuff), not the idiot who took up 2 parking spaces in the Most Densely Populated Parking Structure Ever, not the fat guy in line in front of you who smelled like a fetid combination of sweat, garlic, salami and roadkill. NO, not any of those people... the baby ruined it, and you know it. It's true, you'll forget about the smelly fat guy; the parking putz isn't even remarkable in any way; you might even enjoy the TSA; you know you bought crappy baggage anyway, but you'll remember that baby.
This is what I had swirling in my mind. I actually told someone beforehand that I was expecting Joy to start screaming as soon as we walked out the front door, and stop screaming when we walked back in, 5 days later. I was expecting the absolute worst, and my guts were in knots about it. My heartrate was elevated as we were packing up the car. My pulse rose as we unpacked the car and hopped into that shuttle that takes you from The Northwest Territories to somewhere slightly closer to the gate in Denver. I took mental note of how LONG it was taking, and mental tally of HOW MUCH SHIT WE HAD (again, please forgive). We checked what we could and girded ourselves for war. Before I knew it, we were through security. What? Wait, what happened there? We just sailed on through, with no difficulty at all. OK, that was a fluke. Luck of the draw. Won't happen that way again. I angried all up again, and was ready for the next phase, Gate Activity. We were there early enough so we could stop for a burger and a beer. My wife knew I was already at the boiling point, and for her own personal safety, stopped for sustenance and booze.
We then made it to our gate, which was NOT 17 miles down the corridor, but pretty darned close to the beer. Score again. We waited for a few minutes and then the illegible announcement came over the loudspeaker that we were either at war with Russia or people with children could board. I bashed my way through the hoards of ASSHATS whe feel the need to CLOG the ENTRY to the gate like the goddamm PLANE is going to LEAVE without them.... breathe now... On to the plane and into my seat. My wife and I manage the child and baggage like seasoned veterans. She is a veteran at flight; I'm more than a rookie, but not as good at it as she is. I mean she knows her stuff when it comes to flight (among other things). We get into our seats, and the seat next to me, which is the window seat, is empty. I heard on a completely different illegible loudspeaker that either polar bears are invading Rhode Island or the flight is 100% full, so I knew there would be at least one (other) extremely unlucky sonofabitch on this flight. Not only do you have to sit next to me, I have a baby BWAAAAHAHHHAAAAHHHAAA! YOUR SOUL IS MINE! The doors closed and the seat next to me was empty. Maybe polar bears are invading Rhode Island. At this point, I've decided that since things were going so well, any moment Joy was going to open up her lungs, and really test out her ability to shatter glass from afar. Not to mention my eardrums. My heart was racing. I was ready to tear the face off everyone on this voyage of the damned. We taxied into position, the engines ran up to full power. We were pushed back in our seats, the roar of the General Electric genX Turbofan engine right outside my window was almost deafening. The aircaft shuddered off the runway, my pulse was pounding in my ears, I was sweating and visibly shaking. It was going to start ANY MOMENT! Soon, my world would cease to exist and I would turn into a soulless zombie! My perfect little angel was going to turn me into the UNDEAD! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!!!! Then, she fell asleep. Like a small sack of potatoes over my arm. The whole flight, she slept. Unreal.
My wife and I looked at each other like we had gotten away with something. I knew then and there our karma was overdrawn. We were due for a payment but it wasn't that day. We arrived at our hotel, and once we all got settled, we all slept.
It's now day 2 and Joy and I have already been out for a walk (to the Subway, the Walgreens and the liquor store, as you might expect) and we're back in the hotel room ready for hopefully a nap. I still feel like there will be a payment. I just don't know when, maybe on the way back...
