Greetings back from sundry travels! I've recently returned from my second business trip ever that took me down to "peach of a state" Atlanta, Georgia. My first time down south was met with friendly people, beautiful scenery, and yummy food. I'd definitely go back again.We passed by the dancing fountains at the Centennial Olympic Park every day, with screeching small children frolicking in the water until all hours of the night. Ironically, I had just experienced the very same park in Salt Lake City, Utah, less than a week earlier, where I had spent a weekend for a friend's wedding. Cafe Rio ode forthcoming...
With all the flying I've done recently, I've calculated that I have boarded at least 20 airplanes since December of last year, probably more. Now, I know that there are those out there who fly with much greater frequency, but for me, that's a lot of airplanes in a seven month period.
The first leg of my flight from DC to Denver put me smack dab in the middle of a shrieking throng of teenagers going home from a field trip to our nation's capital. There were at least fifteen shrill, hormonal young people all around me, throwing candy bars, passing mp3 players, jumping up and down, creating general ruckus. My seat neighbor, bless his heart, was a quite large and tall prepubescent 15-year-old, who expanded his limbs with every effort of mine to evade them, and basically morphed into a big, sticky, squishy radiator for the duration of the flight. Praying for respite on the way home, I ended up across the aisle from a screaming baby. Three hours. Screaming.
The first leg of the trip down to Atlanta was positively subliminal. Most people flying anywhere at 7 am on a weekday are probably on business, and for the first time in those 20 flights, and I'd daresay the entire last two years I've flown, the entire ROW in which I was sitting was unoccupied. Zen. Peace. Tranquility.
Our return flight placed another howling toddler in the row in front of me. No. It wasn't even howling. It was like unto the yowl of a banshee. Two hours. Banshee.
I am alllll for advocating drugging of small children on flights. Parents, gasp and recoil in horror, but that's what children's medication is for! And the sanity of the 83 other people on your flight!!! A friend recommended a business startup idea for child-free airlines. I think it's genius, pure genius... a 21 and over airline. Yes. I'm calling Donald Trump now...
*oh, and Old Jack, if you're still wondering why my mom has a big butt, I exhort you to give strict heed to this. Read it to the end and I promise you it'll get you through your day...
2 comments:
I do find it strange that such little things can create such a big sensory perception. Like how they smell. They're like little generators of odor. How they sustain that with just mushed 'nanas for fuel is beyond me.
And the kid was prepubescent at 15?? Man, what a shot to the ego that must be.
Well, I guess he was pubescent, you can't really be "pre" if you're like six feet tall right? Whatever. He was large, squishy, hot (temperature wise, not necessarily physically alluring) and very friendly. He offered me a swig of his Dr. Pepper from the 2-liter bottle he had mysteriously stashed away, and was more than happy to share his king-sized bag of Butterfingers with his neighbors. Dude, I don't know where it was all coming from, he must have borrowed Mary Poppins' bag...
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