As we prepare for this year's holiday trip to Seattle, I am once again taking an infant on a plane. It brought back memories of our first Seattle trip with a baby. So today, I give to you, a holiday memory.
Fun story from our 4 hour flight from Seattle to Dallas/Fort Worth this morning. The baby napped peacefully for the first 2.5 hours, then ate for another half hour. Towards the end of the flight she was awake and playing happily.
About 30 minutes before the end of the flight, the captain announces that we are nearing our destination and that for the remainder of the flight the seatbelt sign will be illuminated. (Why 30 minutes??? All travelers know there is no good reason to have to stay in our seats that long.) Upon hearing the announcement, the baby proceeds to fill her diaper, loudly. The nearby passengers faces say either "oh, I didn't know there was a baby," "yuck, we have to smell that for the rest of the flight," or "hahaha!"
Hoping to escape the inevitable full diaper leak, I ask the stewardess if I can go change her quickly. To my surprise, and the relief of all the people seated near us, she agrees. Before she can change her mind, me, the smelly baby, and the massive diaper bag/carry-on make a mad dash for the rear of the plane and seclude ourselves in the microscopic bathroom.
I cover the tiny changing table, dig supplies form the bag, and start to undress the baby when the oft mentioned (but never experienced) "unexpected turbulence" occurs. Imagine being locked in a tiny, smelly, windowless closet with a half-naked baby wearing a full diaper, which you are trying to remove without you or her wearing its contents. Now, imagine that closet being strapped onto a rollercoaster car and/or the teacup ride at Disneyland.
The ride lasted several minutes during which I could do nothing to further the cause of actually finishing the job. Luckily, the baby determined that the "ride" was funny and giggled, cooed, and flailed her arms and legs. (Note: the limb flailing did not aide in the full diaper avoidance conundrum.) After only a minor bump to the head (mine, not hers) we (and by we I mean I, without her assistance) finished the task.
Upon leaving our "theme park style outhouse," I contemplated use of an airsick bag for its intended purpose. She contemplated eating an airsick bag.
The stewardess was waiting outside the lavatory. I immediately wondered if she had waited there during my entire effort to efficiently change a baby while surfing in an out of control port-a-potty. If so, did she hear all of the noises that resembled 2 people and assorted musical toys and diapering implements in a blender. And if she did, why did she not offer assistance?
Upon exiting my brief respite from my microscopic airline seat, I had to wait for the person in the other lavatory and dodge the man waiting to go next. As we did the bob and weave to avoid hitting each other, the stewardess asked me if I could walk back to my seat in the rocking plane or if I needed to sit down in the jump seat. (Hadn't the fasten seat belt sign been on for at least 10 minutes? Why are all these people out here?)
As I wove my way back to my seat I think I did the Macarena down the aisle - sticking my arms out to grab onto things, then grabbing onto myself and/or the baby and her luggage.
Upon arriving back at our seat, I wedged myself, the baby, her "bag o'diaper-stuff", and my own carry-on back into a seat designed to effectively house a 5 year-old to enjoy the 10 minutes left until landing. At least my husband reached over to rub my shoulders.
Originally published on Facebook on December 25, 2011.
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