The Flight of Firsts- Part 3

The first five hours of the flight the boys did not fuss once or complain, but the other small children around us were. A few babies who were having a bit of a rough time adapting to the confined nature of the plane, air pressure, etc. Being a mom, I have a bit more tolerance and understanding for those cries and complaints, but some of the others were clearly less than amused. By the time it was Brin’s turn to raise a little hell, the man from four rows back was ready to rage and I was the lucky recipient of his frustrations.

After about 15 minutes of trying to get Brin to relax, quiet down, and settle, the man approaches our seat and passes just in front of it. He leaned back, almost as if he was going to ask me if I needed a refreshment of some kind, but instead posed a different question:

Him- “Everything okay?” 

Me- “…yeah” 

Him- “Are you going to do something about your child?” 

Me- *Very confused* “I am. He hasn’t fussed the whole flight and he’s having a hard time settling down… he’s over tired.” 

Him- “Does it not bother you? Because it’s bothering the rest of us trying to sleep.” 

Me- “Do you think I like this? Do you think I’m enjoying myself? I’m trying my best to keep him quiet.” 

Him- “Try harder.” (Walks away to the bathroom)

I was literally in shock…just stunned. He didn’t raise his voice but he was so condescending, harsh, and cold, it took me off guard. The lady in the aisle across from me was shocked as well. She leaned over immediately and said “Ignore him. You are doing great!” Another woman with a young daughter, who was seated directly behind me, was also in shock. She asked if I was okay and, fighting back a flood of tears, I nodded…

In my daily life, it takes a lot to throw me off or surprise me. I am usually ready for just about any kind of interaction or comment at any given time (thank you, life trauma and survival skills *rolls eyes*). I think I was so taken aback because the two other times I had flown with Len it went so well. All of the people around us were so kind, accommodating, uplifting, and complementary. I was just baffled that someone would be so bold to approach a solo parent who was visibly struggling and try to shame them, as if that was the fix I didn’t have for the current situation I was in. The audacity some people have with complete strangers is baffling sometimes. Thankful for in-flight Wi-Fi, I was able to rage text Daniel as an outlet to keep myself from exploding all over this horrible man.

After gathering myself, and deciding to just give Brin whatever he wanted to stop the fussing, I accepted I would have no time to relax on this flight and Brin would not be sleeping. However, after the fourth or fifth time of restarting Toy Story, Brin fell asleep in my arms. I was slowly able to stand up, lay him down on my seat, and go to the bathroom, thank you, again to the nice lady behind me for keeping an eye on them. I then stood in the aisle for the last hour of the flight, stretched, and took some deep exhales.

As we were on our descent into Charles De Galle airport, I had to wake the boys, pack up all our things, and muster the energy for the next part of this journey. Brin, of course, fell back to sleep on arrival but Len got motion sick and threw up on himself *again palm to face* Now, I know what you’re thinking, “Michelle, throw in the towel and go home!” But at this point nothing, and I mean nothing, was going to surprise me. Len unfortunately had already used his backup clothes from the orange juice spill on the first flight and had to just suffer through the bit of throw up on his pants and rally. 

I was so thankful I had the foresight to know we would most like come in a hot-mess and would just want to land and go straight to our apartment without fussing with the trains into the city. The car service I had arranged was waiting for us right outside the airport, car seats and all. It was easily the best 70 euros I have ever spent. Our luck had finally started to turn… We had no traffic during the whole 30-minute drive to our apartment and the check in process was a breeze. We quickly threw all our things into the washer (blankies, clothes, and anything else cloth) to get the airport and plane ride filth off, hung up the blackout shade in our room; sleep was near and we were ready. Then we slid into some cozy jammies and all passed out for a little four hour nap. We would eventually wake up rested and ready to enjoy the first afternoon and evening back in my city. I was home… Let the 6-week dream begin.

More to come…