My visit to the Maritimes was lovely if a day or two too long. Aren't all those sense memories of home that warm you while booking your ticket wonderful? They are until you're 4 days in and you remember why you don't live there anymore. (Reason #23: You don't consider pyjama pants formal wear)
So, I just flew back from the coast and boy are my arms ready to swat at the next baby I see. Who loves babies more than me when I'm flying? Nobody. Unless the baby is yours, mine, ours or alive - I simply adore the damnable little things.
Let me count the ways I love them:
there's the general bleating and crying from behind me (is that from 3 rows back or just behind my right ear?)
the peeking over the seat in front of me (cute is relative and a time limited proposition)
the throwing up on or near me (no, really, these pants although expensive are disposable)
the peeing on or near me (the smell of urine, it's not just for breakfast anymore)
the spilling things on or near me (Cheerios fine, juice or milk products not fine)
and the general kicking and hitting (that's hot)
My flight had to pit stop to pick up additional passengers before heading for home. There was just a small scattering of people on the flight to begin with and this was very much to my liking. We touched down to avail ourselves of what was sure to be just a few more fresh and quiet new people.
No less than 8 assorted groupings of babies began to board! Terror and fear - a man carrying two small babies, a woman with a toddler and a newborn, a couple with a chatty little dickens and so on.
Don't sit near me, don't sit near me, don't sit near me. Musn't make eye contact, do not look at those babies. Why wasn't I told there was a fucking Gerber baby audition going on here and that they'd all be getting on my flight?
I calmed down enough to realize that it was just the usual pre-boarding call and that they always let the loudest and most annoying people on first.
My mind settled just as the babies did all around me. I got as comfortable as you can get in coach and could feel a small foot kicking away at my seat from behind. At least the crying hadn't started yet. Eventually, the fairly rhythmic kicking put me to sleep and I dreamed of a babies only airline run by kindly deaf grandmothers.
What a wonderful world it would be.