Fight or Flight

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.

Follow