Friday, November 11, 2005

Anxiety sets in.

I am flying to Arlington the day after tomorrow.
With Adrian. The boy-who-will-not-sit-still.
Just me and Adrian.

Can't breathe.

What if he screams the whole flight?
What if he suddenly develops motion sickness and vomits all over us and anybody within a 3-foot radius?
What if he frees himself from my grasp, goes running down the aisle, is mistaken for a hijacker and get arrested by an undercover air Marshall?
Will I have enough money for bail? Do they send toddlers to Guantanamo Bay?
No, but they probably send moms.
Ooh...A vacation.


Anonymous said...

Don't worry! No matter how annoyed the other airline passengers are, there's always an undercurrent of understanding buried deep beneath their self-involved, self-important facades that remembers brief flashes of themselves howling at the top of their lungs and flinging feces at air stewardesses on international flights to Japan, 38 hours of non-stop red-faced, eye-slit screaming banshee child. Some part of their subconcious recalls this nostalgically and so, no matter how loudly or continuously Adrian screams, you are unlikely to be the victim of more than a few unguarded dirty looks.

Of course, if someone does start something - that baby in your lap is a pro at creating a diaper molotov cocktail that you can lob at the disaffected airline passenger with 100% confidence that the resulting mess and confusion will take all eyes off your little boy, and his lung capacity.

Fun blog said...

Sounds like you were in over your head on this one! Sorry...seems like you made it through ok though!