A good idea, that is, until I read the details, which include a "family line."
I'd happily use the line if we were "That Family" -- the exhausted folks who look like a herd of urban homeless carrying their baby while using a stroller as a shopping cart, kids in hard-to-remove shoes running every which way, the two bags apiece full of the mountain of Stuff they can't possibly be without for a two hour flight.
Our family, on the other hand puts a premium on having LESS STUFF, and we're experienced travelers to boot. When we get to the airport, our dangerously radical LESS STUFF policy makes it easy to get through security and around the terminal. So after we check our suitcase you'll see us with just two small bags, a car seat and baby Theo strapped to Daddy's chest. Metal items and outerwear are packed away before we approach security and the adults are wearing sandals. (Yes James, I'm that guy in the airport wearing navy blue Crocs. I'm also a 6'3" 225lb man with a baby strapped to his chest, so questions about my dignity have already been answered.)
So now when we reach the airport, we'll be funneled into the "family lane" along with the other unfortunate breeders that we've spent every airport visit until now trying to avoid. It might feel like special treatment for all those folks who seem to think they're special for figuring out how to reproduce, but we will be the rare travelers whose time in security probably increases. Don't even get me started on what that lane will look like around the family travel holidays.
We could buck the system, be the rebels who try to skip the family lane and mingle with the regular travelers; but we know from previous experiences with eschewing so-called "family friendly" accommodations that it wouldn't be worth the dirty looks and "helpful suggestions." I can even predict what will be said...
Sir, the family lane is right over there.
Sir, next time you'd probably be more comfortable over in the family lane.
Oh, look who is too special for the family lane.
Sir, I asked you to remove your shoes, not your pants.
They're just so picky.
If you're thinking I'm trying really hard to come up with a rationale for not flying anymore, you'd be right. I could barely justify the mental and financial costs of air travel when it was just me and Ruth -- now that Theo is along for the ride and such a generally easygoing traveler, I'm hoping it will be a while before you find me back in the air.
I'm sorry if I didn't seem to have a point here, but the best solution for writer's block is to write what's in my head anyway, no matter how inane. I don't normally publish "writer's block" posts but it seemed like such a waste to write all this and not share it...
2 comments:
Big Daddy, you get a pass when it comes to airport security and your shoe selection. But if I see you at the local pub with them on, I will not acknowledge you...unless you buy me a drink ;)
One "fun" airport experience my wife had when Ally was 2 was finding out, after she had been so good the entire plane ride, that her diaper had filled up and soaked right through both of their jeans. Yeah, it's a whole new experience with a young one in tow.
Post a Comment