Motor City Part Deux -- Magic in the air

Whether it was the excitement of the wedding, or the dryness of the hotel room, Gus did not sleep well on Saturday night. Mom got up with Gus around 1:00 am, and tried unsuccessfully to put him back down for the next 45 minutes, before calling out to the bullpen for some relief from Dad. Unfortunately, it was an up and down experience for Dad for the next 90 minutes, and finally at a little after 4:00 am, we gave up and Emily fed Gus. We were scheduled to fly out at 6:40 am, and had asked for a wake up call at 4:45 am, so I tried to get a quick few winks in before the phone rang. I vaguely remember fumbling for the phone and hanging it up when the wake-up call came in, but the next thing I heard was Emily's voice saying, "Kevin, it's 5:30."

ZOINKS! (this is a family friendly blog) 5:30, and the pack 'n play was still set up, we had not yet finished packing, we were not checked in, and we had a 5 and a half-month old baby with us. Not good. Remarkably Emily and I left the hotel room 22 minutes later and rushed through the airport with the suitcase, pack 'n play, and the G-Man (rolling in his new wheels) all in tow. Now, I could blame this mad dash through the airport on the baby or the lack of sleep, and to be sure, this wouldn't be totally ridiculous. But those who know Emily and me know better. Shortly after Emily and I started dating, she took a trip to Hawaii with her family (this was in college). I borrowed a friend's car, and was all set to take Emily to the Cincinnati airport. A couple of wrong turns later I had to drive like Bo Duke to get Emily there in time for her flight. So, I guess what I'm saying is, there is a history. I am sure, in fact, that many readers who are familiar with our antics are thinking of their favorite Kevin and Emily running through the airport like O.J. in that Hertz commercial moment right now.

So we hit the check-in line at roughly 6:00 am. Long line of people with dozens of unused self-check-in machines standing unused. What's wrong with this picture? Isn't some of the convenience of having self-check-in lost when you have to wait for a ticketing agent anyway? Also, doesn't it always seem like when you're in a hurry the people in front of you are just baffled by the steps necessary to check-in using the touch screen? It's as if they all came down with a case of the Amish. It's not that hard people . . . just touch the screen on the big squares that describe the option you want. That's right. Checking bags? IT'S A YES OR NO QUESTION! Total time for the transaction should be approximately 75 seconds, but I swear that two guys took 15 minutes as they alternately poked at the screen, scratched their heads, and looked at each other shrugging their shoulders completely stupefied. All the while, the clock is edging closer and closer to 6:40 am. Finally a terminal opens up, and we quickly print our boarding passes and check our bags (total time approximately 47 seconds). 6:20 am. Uh-oh. Go, go, go, go, go . . .

One of the things that I was looking forward to about traveling with Gus was being in the gate when the announcement came out, "Passengers traveling with children or who need special assistance may now board the airplane." I would stride smugly to the front of the line with Guster in my arms. No more standing in the jet-way for a half an hour. No more standing helplessly in the aisle while Joe Carryon tries to stuff a suitcase that contains all his worldly belongings in the overhead compartment. I would have freedom to move and time to get situated. I had a taste of that on the flight out, but on the way back? Not so much. I am pretty sure that the three of us were the last people on the plane. Looking ahead to our aisle, I saw a woman sitting in the aisle seat engrossed in a book with two empty seats next to her. Hello, neighbor! Um, excuse me? Looks like we're 34A and 34B. Woman looks up at us, takes in Guster, and makes the oh, crap face. Now, there is a distinct possibility that in my days of travel PG (pre-Guster), I may have made a similar face. Even if I have not made such a face outwardly, I know that in the past seeing a baby in my row on a flight was not a cause for celebration, but desperation. Yes, I know that look, and a small part of me felt for the lady. But I also wanted the lady to give Guster a chance. He was not crying, and for all she knew, he wouldn't make a peep the whole flight. Our case with the lady was not strengthened when after sliding by her to our seats, we waited approximately 12 seconds before Emily had to excuse herself to the restroom so that she could dump some of the hot water we scored to warm Gus' bottle down the drain (the bottle full of formula displaced too much hot water -- as Raymond Babbitt would say, "burn baby bad."). The pursed lips told the tale. She was not pleased with her neighbors.

I gave Gus the bottle as we started to take-off expecting that he would fall asleep as he had on the flight out. Turns out that Gus has different plans. Gus finished the bottle and was wide awake. For the next hour or so, Gus squirmed, mauled his ugly doll, and smiled at the passengers that he spied over the seat back. And then the unmistakable aroma of a filled diaper began to waft toward our nostrils. Great. I suggested heading to the bathroom, but Emily said that there wasn't room -- that we were going to have to change Gus right here. On our laps? Gus has started rolling on the changing table, and it is getting harder to change him without it looking like the nursery has had a visit from Mr. Hanky the Christmas Poo, so this seemed like a recipe for disaster. But we spread out the changing mat (our prickly neighbor was thankfully asleep), and started undressing Gus. I was in charge of actual changing, and as I undid his diaper I expected the worst . . . I pulled the front down and . . . it was just wet. Thank goodness. I quickly dispatched of the dirty diaper, and cheerfully put a new one on Gus. I've never been so happy about a little gas. I recognize that Emily and I are not the first ones to change a diaper on a plane, but I have to say that I felt like we had done a magic trick in the air -- a death defying stunt if you will. So, if you see me in the coming weeks, this may be a story that I try to tell you. Just cut me off and say you read about it here.

As a postscript, Guster proceeded to fall asleep for the last 20 minutes sprawled out on our legs. Our neighbor, upon waking, looked down at Gus. "He's such a good baby!"

We know.

Wonks.
More Wonks.
Headed Home. Dad is tired, but Gus is enjoying the flight.