“The world’s greatest flyers fly American.”
Umm, no — no they don’t.
Not on July 5, 2017… and not in row 7 seat B. You see, we were THAT family with THAT kid. The “terrible 2’s” were in full effect… times one million trillion, and skydiving from 36,000 feet never sounded more appealing.
I mean, who needs truck magnets, truck stickers, endless snacks, iPad games, or in-flight movies when it’s waaaaaaaay more fun to karate kick the TV monitor, clickclickclick the seatbelt buckle 924 times, say NO to ev–er–y–thing, open/close/open/close the tray table, refuse to remain seated, lose all vertebrae function when placed back in the seat, fall out of mentioned seat, bump head, and cry at decibel levels frowned upon by the friendly skies?
OK, that’s enough!!!
Timeout in the lavatory!! Oh wait. The fasten seatbelt sign is illuminated. Awesome.
And the icing on the cake, or should I say the salt in the wound? Our three-ring circus was positioned directly behind the first class passengers — with my seat conveniently offering an up-close and personal view of their 2 hours and 10 minutes of luxury.
Fortunate souls curled up in comfortable balls under cozy blankets. Piping hot meals served on fine china… the silverware mocking me with every clink and clank. Would you like red or white wine with your dinner? Pretzel bread or sourdough? Sir, I’m sorry it took so long to get you your bowl of assorted nuts… I went ahead and gave you extra. Would you like a warm chocolate chip cookie or a snickerdoodle? Need a refill on your wine? Thank you for flying with us, here’s a mint.
All the while, pint-sized pandemonium was occurring just one row back… with a momma ready to click her ruby slippers together… a daddy in desperate need of the oxygen masks to deploy… and what’s that… of course… an overtired lad sound asleep with only 20 minutes left to go.