Category: Traveling

When I first read  “Remember when flying used to be fun?”, Sharon Van Epps’ recent post on air travel for the Silicon Valley Moms Blog, it was with plenty of eye rolls and groans.

It wasn’t because of the post itself (which was actually brilliant, by the way). It was because I was three days away from boarding American Airlines Flight 1441, direct service from DFW to SFO, with my two small children. I would be flying alone with them and very much unassisted, as Mr. D had returned to work earlier in the week.

My kids are pros when it comes to traveling, Scout especially, having done so much of it in the past two years. I knew that once we were seated on the plane, we’d be fine. It’s getting there that’s the hardest part…

The problem is I never know what to expect anymore when we fly. I  can review the airlines’ policies/restrictions before every trip, just in case something changed since the last time we flew (even if it was only a week ago). I can allot plenty of time to get through security. I can have ID and credit card in hand and a huge smile on my face when I approach the ticketing counter, but none of this stands a chance against some gate agent’s grandiose notions of authority or a TSA officer’s random foul mood.

It just so happened that the morning of our departure Scout felt the need to get in one last tantrum before leaving my parents’ house… of course. So we were already running behind schedule when we had to repack our bags to meet the weight restrictions, barely avoided being side-swiped upon entering the airport, and then completely missed the turn into the departure level.

I made it through security single-handedly. Literally. As in I had to fold the stroller, remove shoes and sweaters (even the baby’s…), and hoist all of our stuff on to the conveyor with one hand, while holding my infant daughter with the other.

Meanwhile, three extra TSA officers merely looked on as they discussed the nation’s security issues of the day such as, “what to eat this weekend” and “which 80s hair band is the most bad ass?” (Discuss)

In spite of this, we still managed to arrive at our gate happy, intact, and with plenty of time to spare.  They were just starting to board the flight. I waited for first class passengers to line up before I approached the gate agent and politely asked… not demanded or even loudly protested… asked if we could board as well.

“I’m traveling alone with my two children,” I added as if that wasn’t already obvious by the six-month-old and three-year-old I had in tow.

The gate agent sneered as she scanned our boarding passes, but not before being so kind as to put me in my place…

“We don’t typically do this sort of thing, but I’ll let you go…this time. Just so you know, it’s not fair that you get to go first before all of these other people (dramatic sweeping gesture) that arrived at the gate before you just because you have kids. But I guess you don’t really care about anyone else, do you?”

Actually, I was thinking of everyone else when I asked to board first…

Would American Airlines rather that I bonk everyone in the head as I make my way through the aisle with my daughter’s massive carrier? Perhaps an additional whack from Scout’s backpack filled with Matchbox cars and board books could soften the blow.

…but I suppose the gate agent hadn’t thought about that.

No, I believe it’s the airlines who stopped caring about the other passengers. Not me.

Scout peeking into our new digs. It’s moving day!

I didn’t until we stopped there two nights ago.

There was a dusting of snow on the ground, mountains in the distance, and evergreens everywhere. The air was crisp and smokey, which is what I imagine when my friend Ashley talks wistfully about the first signs of winter in her home state of Colorado.

So in spite of our tightly wound schedule, we lingered a bit longer, stopping at the depot for the Grand Canyon Railway in Williams, a small town outside of Flagstaff.

We were obviously ill-prepared for the snow…

A quick glance at the amount of stuff we’ve been hauling in the station wagon (which is beginning to resemble a dorm after four days of pretty much living in it), you’d think we’d be prepared for anything, but alas, no snow gear to be found.

But Scout LOVED it… watching the trains and feeling the crunch, crunch of snow beneath his feet.

Of course, this put us an hour behind on our day’s drive… an hour we gained back due to the Mountain-Pacific time change (whew-hew), but was later sucked up by LA traffic (boo! hiss!)…

Actually, LA traffic sucked up TWO and a half hours. Two and a half hours to drive the 15 miles to get to Mr. D’s brother’s house.

As a result, Scout only got a few minutes with his cousins before they had to head to bed. It was such a huge disappointment that they couldn’t play longer, but at least he got to see them which made crawling our way along the 101 worthwhile.

We had big plans for yesterday.

A stroll through the Petrified Forest? A possible detour to see The Ice Cave and Bandera Volcano? Maybe a chance to finally see the Grand Canyon?

We preferred to just sit back and enjoy the scenery… and get to the hotel quickly.

Today, California and Duffy cousins!

We’ve made our way from Dallas-Fort Worth to Santa Rosa, New Mexico, a cute, but dilapidated little town reminiscent of the one in the movie Cars.

It’s 3am. I’m hungry, cold, and sleepless in a hotel room, but overall the trip has been rather pleasant and right on schedule. Just as I had planned…

Scout woke up with a cold the day before we left, so he slept most of the morning, waking up just in time to have lunch at the Big Texan Steak Ranch in Amarillo.

Home of the FREE 72 oz steak (provided you eat it within an hour. All of it…)

I don’t think I’ve eaten 72 oz of streak in one YEAR. Doing it in one hour following by sitting in the car for another four? Yeah, NOT a good idea.

However, along the theme of “Everything is bigger in Texas”…

What can I say? It was hokey fun at its finest.

We were in such a food coma as we sped out of town that we completely forgot to stop at the “Cadillac Ranch” for a photo op, but we picked up the slack by visiting the Route 66 Auto Museum.

It was little boy heaven…

After that, we called it a day.