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Flying with Children

January 17, 2012 by

I find myself sitting in airport lounge areas frequently. They are mostly the same, though some of the newer airports have upgraded their lounge areas with massage chairs, Wi-Fi, conversation nooks and other things to make the wait not quite so tedious. I don’t care about any of these things; give me a chair close to the boarding area with a view of those who I will be flying with, that is my only requirement. Sounds odd doesn’t it? I have my reasons.

Ill Mannered Imps and their Minders

Scanning the airport lounges allows me to identify the worst of the worst, out-of-control children. These children usually between the ages of four and ten who have failed to learn basic social skills. They scream, throw their toys, demand attention from their parents and strangers. They run through the lounge tripping over carry-on bags and even tripping other travelers as they attempt to navigate the terminal and the lounge. Their voices are akin to nails on blackboards as they screech their demands.

They are not angels. They are not sweet cherubs. They are YARD APES. Their parents often have that faraway look, one seen usually on soldiers returning from war or victims of crime. It is these imps of destruction that can and usually do ruin trips for at least those in their immediate vicinity on a plane. They kick the back of seats; they twist and turn, look over at their neighbors with ugly faces, talk to neighbors unceasingly, throw food and otherwise act in ways that prove children are born horrifyingly unmannered.

Worse than the children though are the parents who fail to take those urchins of the netherworld under control.

One of my favorites –

I had boarded the plane from Brussels to Houston, it’s a long trip but I had upgraded to first class and so I was looking forward to a somewhat pleasant flight. This was long before the time of beds in first class and better food. I was in seat 1A, bulkhead window. Suddenly, oh no my worst nightmare a woman sits down beside me with a small child, small as in approximately 18-months. Her husband takes the seat across the aisle. Thinking I was being kind, I offered him my seat so they could be together during the flight, no they said they had planned it this way so he could work during the flight without being disturbed. What?

The mother plans on holding her child throughout the nine hour flight, in the meantime the child is on the floor playing while the announcement to prepare for take-off is blaring. Flight attendants walk through the aisles not once, not twice but four times telling this mother to pick up her child so we can take off. Each time she does the child shrieks and the mother puts her back on the floor, finally I offer to hold her so she can look out the window, which solves the problem, she doesn’t shriek we take off and all is quiet in first class. Does mom offer to take the child back? Well no, in fact when drink service begins she and dad order drinks and start chatting while their infant calmly stays on my lap. I had to tap her on the shoulder and hand the bad baby back explaining that they made the decision to not buy a seat or bring a nanny with them, they had the responsibility to entertain and keep their child quiet and if it disrupted their travel, tough.

It was a miserable flight! Screaming, diaper changes and other disgusting disruptions (Dad wasn’t bothered though).

This is one of the reasons I firmly believe children under the age of fourteen do not belong in First Class, ever and under any circumstance.

I have many other stories of the misery of travel which I will share from time to time. Some are children in the air. Some are simply horrible airline service. Hope you will join me in my travels around the world.

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Tales from the Air

January 3, 2012 by

Farts on the Airplane

There is probably nothing worse than someone with uncontrollable gas in the tight confines of an airplane. Certainly they are embarrassed by their overactive digestive track and their own stupidity at eating foods that would cause their active flatulence.

Let me give some advice. There are some foods that lend themselves to greater amounts of flatulence than others. This is due to the types of sugars they contain, the body CANNOT effectively break these sugars down and thus they produce gas which travels to your nether regions ultimately producing noxious fumes. If you know you will be flying, do yourself and your fellow passengers a favor avoid these foods!

Beans, Cauliflower, Cabbage, Raisins, Milk (especially for those with lactose intolerances) and yes the all-important BEER.

Elbows and other Sharp Objects

I once had a man (not what you are thinking you are so dirty minded) seated next to me in those big comfy First Class Seats. This man must have seen that I was more blessed than the average woman with pair of breasts that might be the envy of a Playboy Centerfold. Perhaps in his fevered fantasy he believed this meant they were public property, since they took more space than was normal. Whatever the case may be, I once had a man and he had a plan.

Our flight to Dallas was looking to be a long one, with plenty of turbulence and stormy skies. I had already taken my seat, 1B aisle bulkhead left side of the plane. When he arrived he first glared at me, as if to say; “what are you doing in this section of the plane?” Admittedly, back then there were few women flying in First during what was considered the Friday specials, business flights back to Dallas on American. Add to this I was already in my standard Jeans, cowboy boots and tee. But then my Man with a Plan noticed my assets and his gears turned. He sat his happy self down, pulled out his Wall Street Journal leaned to the right, taking more than half our ample arm rest as his own, and ordered his Scotch and Soda before take-off. Then the fun begin……….

Turn page one, right hand grabs page turns and shakes landing squarely against the edge of my breast. I think nothing of it. A few minutes go by and time to turn the next page; oddly the exact same action produces the same result. “Excuse me, my breast isn’t public property and your attention isn’t welcome. Would you mind keeping your elbow on your side of the arm rest and your hands to yourself, please”, said as nice as possible and looking directly at the Man with the Plan. He smirked, moved slightly to the left and started reading again. A few more minutes pass (he reads slowly) and the same exact thing happens, fortunately the two gentlemen across the aisle see it this time, so when I turn and tapped him and said, ‘The next time you touch my breast I am going to break your ribs and it will be self-defense’, they concurred. Again he smirked and this time he didn’t move.

Five more minutes, he readies himself for another page turner and a free feel. I ready myself as well, I am watching for him how. He turns the page and this time takes a slow linger down the side of my left breast as if daring me to follow through with my threat. Boy did he challenge the wrong Texas girl, I pulled back my elbow and delivered a blow to his ribs that knocked the wind from his lungs and bent him over in his seat. When he could breathe again the first thing he did is push the call button and when he Flight Attendant arrived he demanded the police meet the plane in Dallas and arrest me for assault. She asked me what had occurred and I explained the situation. She asked the nice gentlemen across the aisle what they had seen and their story agreed with mine. She offered him a choice;

  1. She could have the police meet the plane and he would be arrested. I might be also, but it is likely the charges would be dropped against me.
  2. He could change seats with someone and forget the entire incident assuming I was willing to do so and someone was willing to change seats with him.

He took option two and the rest of the flight was quite pleasant. He called me a Bitch as he was moving his bags, I agreed.

Thus we have two tales of many of my time in the air. Farts on a plane, well that is on-going and frequent. Elbows that is a true story from about ten years ago.

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Flying in the Face of Sanity

December 30, 2011 by

Did I say that, mention sanity and flight in the same sentence. Could it be I have finally lost what little true lucidity I have left and crossed over into the land of la-la. This could be the case, but as I look at the end of another year of mileage and other sundry programs that award me for spending my life away from home I am forced to take stock.

It is important to understand what I do for a living; I am a consultant or as one of my favorite customers once said during a heated debate;

“Well Val, that is because you are a Conslutant”, at which point he grew beat red and

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fumbled mightily for a way out of his Freudian Slip. Being the wonderful Conslutant that I am I gave him one, I smiled sweetly and said, “Why no George, I am not a Conslutant at all, you pay me very well for my services and thus I think there might be another name for what I am”. While the Steering Committee of the very proper southern State Board of Education stared mouths agape, both George and I burst out laughing and all was right with the world once again. Freudian Slips forgotten and the heated debate regarding the state of the project picked up where it left off.

Nevertheless, I am a Consultant, to be precise I am Project Manager big IT projects. I have been working in this capacity for twenty years. For the past five I have worked as an independent, meaning sometimes I get to pick my customers but most of the time I scramble for new contracts. The other thing this means is I spend a great deal of time in airports, airplanes and hotel rooms; that is away from home.

The Mile High Club

Get your mind out of the gutter it isn’t what you think! Those of us who spend a significant portion of our lives catching catnaps in the air belong to a unique club. We know the secrets of getting through long check in lines, security is a breeze and we generally don’t

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stress when our flights are delayed. Why you ask? The answer is simple this is our life.

We make friends with the people at ticket counters we know their names, sometimes even the names of their children; we see them week after week. TSA agents greet us by name; we take the same flights week after week and are on the same schedules. Flight attendants know us and we continue conversations from the previous week with them, sharing war stories of our time in the air, bad passengers and the changes since the airline has cut back services.

How many miles can a single person fly? 3,722,902 – you read that right. Three million seven hundred twenty-two thousand nine hundred and two. Those are the approximate miles I have flown between four main airlines in the past twenty years. It is likely a bit more, but many miles have fallen through the cracks of bankruptcy, mergers and sundry other incidents of flying life. To be perfectly anal about this that works out to be five hundred and ten (510) miles per day every single day for twenty years.

The Road Less Traveled

Now of course I didn’t fly every day. Didn’t even fly every week. Most weeks but not every week. In fact there were entire years during this period where I actually I stayed in one place and was able to act just like a normal person, commuting to and from an office on a road rather than in an airplane, I found the experience far more stressful. When people ask how I can stand to fly every week I point out if they live and work in any metropolitan city in the US they likely spend up and hour or more each way in the car five days per week. They are subject to road rage, incautious drivers, traffic jams and many other terrible inconveniences. I on the other hand am met at the airport where my car is valet parked, I rarely stand in long lines, I always board the plane first, my commute consists of sitting back while others ‘drive’ and I catnap.

I don’t want to glamorize my commute, believe me there is nothing glamorous about it at all. Every privilege I have has been earned by bad food, rude seatmates, long layovers, delayed flights and being away from home.

I am starting this series here, more to come on Flying in the Face of Sanity.

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