Flying is Fun. Really? No, not really!
I flew out to DC this weekend to help my mom with her booth at the National Cherry Blossom Festival Street Fair. I took my standard non-stop SLC to DC flight out there. I've made that flight enough times now that I'm actually starting to recognize the flight crew. The trip was, as it always is for me, positively replete with funny things, so I've decided to dedicate one post to the travel and one to the fair.
I'll add this post to a series called flying is fun. If you have missed of my previous posts about my overwhelming love of air travel you can read them here and here and here.
To DC
I flew out Friday AM to lightly falling snow. I've flown in the snow before, with no issues, so I wasn't worried. I'm aboard, nestled in my exit row seat (love traveling with no kids) when I see the cockpit door open and the pilot come walking down the aisle. He comes all the way back and leans over me, looking out my window. Our faces are about 4 inches from one another, so it seems like one of us should say something. Willing to make the first move, I say, "uh, hello."
Pilot: "Oh, hi there. Sorry, just needed to take a look out your window. You know, take a little peek at the wing."
L: "Hmm, ok, I'll be honest, that makes me very nervous."
Pilot: "Oh, no. No, it's fine. It looks good. I think we're fine."
And off he goes, back down the aisle, sequestering himself away in the cock pit once again. I'm left sitting on the wing that needed a visual inspection from the pilot with his oh-so-calming words "I think we're fine" ringing in my head.
I start to think about how that pilot looked young. Really young. Too young, in fact. Is this his first flight? Is that why he was unsure about whether the plane still had wings? Then I start thinking about how my baby brother is a pilot and while he is a good one, I remember that kid when he was carrying around 5 binkies, when he was sitting on the sprinkler heads, when he was begging up to dress up like pilgrims for Thanksgiving dinner and I start to realize what mortal and potentially fallible hands I'm in. Then I remind myself it is too late to get off the plane, so I get out a book and try to lose myself in a fictional world of intrigue and corporate espionage. It really doesn't work, so I just end up closing my eyes until we reach our cruising altitude.
Home from DC
I was seated on an aisle directly behind the best seat on the whole plane - bulkhead, exit row, aisle. I was salivating for that good seat, but I didn't get it. I'm 6 feet tall and honestly, it's all leg. So flying in the very best circumstance isn't very pleasant. My legs do not fit into the allotted space. How Chad flies without lashing out at other in agony, I'll never know.
Anyway, as I'm contorting myself into my seat, this funny, little gal (really little - 5' 3" tops) flits onto the plane and tells the flight attendant that she has a life threatening peanut allergy, so she really hopes they won't be serving any peanuts on this plane today. Bad news shorty, there will be lots of peanuts on this plane today. Peanuts, peanut M&Ms, trail mix with peanuts. There will also be meals served that have walnuts and pine nuts. It is going to be a nut-filled flight.
Shorty begins having a mild conniption fit. Don't they know that people have allergies? Do they want her to get sick? Do they want her to die? (I almost piped up and said "Not die, but I do want you to at least get off the plane so I can have your seat." I decided, however, that it was perhaps not the best time for my input.)
They explain that it isn't a problem. There policy is not to serve any peanuts for 3 rows ahead or behind her, so she will be fine. Not good enough, she says, she gets sick at the mere smell of peanuts. Her's is an airborne allergy; they cannot serve any peanuts on this plane. End of discussion.
Not quite the end of the discussion, they say. Had she told the reservations agent that she had this issue they would have happily loaded this flight with a complete set of offerings that did not include any nuts. (At this point, I think, wow, really? As long as they have advanced notice they will change what they offer on the entire flight? I might call next time and say I have a deathly peanut allergy, cause I'm getting mighty sick of the same old in-flight menu. Time to change it up a little.)
Here's what needs to happen, shorty says. They aren't going to serve any nuts. They are going to make an announcement that says someone on board has a severe food allergy and if you brought anything with nuts on board you can't get them out during the flight.
Um, no. They try to compromise. They offer to extend their 3 row policy to 5 rows or even 10 rows, but they are going to serve the food they have and they can't control what people brought on the flight.
Then shorty hits the roof. She flies all the time. She flies on A airlines and B airlines and C airlines and they know better than to offer peanuts on their flights. They don't make it so difficult. They want her business. (Oh, I'm really hoping she gets mad enough to get off the plane. Really, really hoping...)
The flight crew really try to reason with her. What will happen to her? Is she prepared with medical supplies for an emergency? She is she says, but if she smells a peanut, she's going to get hives. Huh? Hives. I thought you were going to die? Then she says fine, with all the huff and disgust she can muster, she'll just take a Benadryl.
Ok, seriously, wait. Let's just recap. Eating a peanut = anaphylactic shock and death. Smelling a peanut = hives. We are holding up 300 people because you might get hives?
Lest I sound heartless or you think I have no respect for how serious allergies can be, let me just say, I have terrible allergies. They are totally unpredictable, because I'm allergic to so many things I can never be sure when I might encounter them. I almost always have Benadryl with me, because I've had lots of problems on airplanes. However, my allergies are not life threatening and do not require me to carry an Epi-pen, so I'm lucky that way.
I'm also not sure whether or not you can got into anaphylactic shock simply by smelling peanuts. You probably can, I don't rule out the possibility of such things just because I've never heard of them. But if you truly have an allergy that is that severe then I have two thoughts...
1) You take every conceivable precaution ahead of time. You tell every person associated with the airline that you have this life threatening condition. You do not wait until you are in your seat and they are waiting to close the door to bring it up.
2) You do not pitch a 10 min fit and then go oh, yeah, I guess I can take a Benadryl and I'll probably be fine.
So back to hive girl. Here I am, crammed into my little seat, really wishing I had a peanut butter cracker ;) and I'm feeling a bit irked.
I thought about the time I flew on an international flight next to a hissing, fur flying cat and while I wanted to suggest we strap a tiny parachute to its cage and toss it out of the plane, I didn't. I took a Benadryl.
I thought about the time I flew on a flight with a woman and her lemur. That's right, folks, her lemur. I remember how the flight attendants ooohhed and aaahhhed over it and took it out of its cage and let it sit on their shoulders! I wanted to say seriously people, why don't you fill a pellet gun full of that thing's fur and shoot it right into my eyes? But I didn't, I took a Benadryl.
I remembered the time I sat next to an enormous woman (I'm sorry, but she was, bless her heart) and during the course of a three hour flight she literally bathed herself head to toe in a lotion so smelly that I'm pretty sure ancient Egyptians used it to embalm mummies. I wanted to take the bottle of lotion and beat her over the head with it, but I didn't. I...that's right...took a Benadryl.
Yes, the big discussion, the talking back and forth with the captain, the ranting about her possible premature death...it all felt like a show, but perhaps I'm jaded by what happened next.
We reach our cruising altitude and she reclines her seat all the way back, effectively shoving my kneecaps into an unholy position, which knee caps were not meant to occupy. Really? You have to recline your seat all the way? It isn't enough that you are sitting in a peanut free zone, on the best seat on the plane, with 6 feet of legroom in front of you? It was all I could do not to thuwmp her on the back of the head.
Home Sweet Home
I swiftly deplaned and made my way through the airport and at the bottom of the escalator was a sight to make all the frustration melt away. Two little angles, in their pjs, holding a big red sign they made that said:
Oh, I missed them. Even on the flight I missed them. When you are busy taking care of your kids, you don't have time to be annoyed or uncomfortable. The whole things is less about you. Plus you get to put your super long legs into their leg space, because they totally don't need it all. Bonus!
I'll add this post to a series called flying is fun. If you have missed of my previous posts about my overwhelming love of air travel you can read them here and here and here.
To DC
I flew out Friday AM to lightly falling snow. I've flown in the snow before, with no issues, so I wasn't worried. I'm aboard, nestled in my exit row seat (love traveling with no kids) when I see the cockpit door open and the pilot come walking down the aisle. He comes all the way back and leans over me, looking out my window. Our faces are about 4 inches from one another, so it seems like one of us should say something. Willing to make the first move, I say, "uh, hello."
Pilot: "Oh, hi there. Sorry, just needed to take a look out your window. You know, take a little peek at the wing."
L: "Hmm, ok, I'll be honest, that makes me very nervous."
Pilot: "Oh, no. No, it's fine. It looks good. I think we're fine."
And off he goes, back down the aisle, sequestering himself away in the cock pit once again. I'm left sitting on the wing that needed a visual inspection from the pilot with his oh-so-calming words "I think we're fine" ringing in my head.
I start to think about how that pilot looked young. Really young. Too young, in fact. Is this his first flight? Is that why he was unsure about whether the plane still had wings? Then I start thinking about how my baby brother is a pilot and while he is a good one, I remember that kid when he was carrying around 5 binkies, when he was sitting on the sprinkler heads, when he was begging up to dress up like pilgrims for Thanksgiving dinner and I start to realize what mortal and potentially fallible hands I'm in. Then I remind myself it is too late to get off the plane, so I get out a book and try to lose myself in a fictional world of intrigue and corporate espionage. It really doesn't work, so I just end up closing my eyes until we reach our cruising altitude.
Home from DC
I was seated on an aisle directly behind the best seat on the whole plane - bulkhead, exit row, aisle. I was salivating for that good seat, but I didn't get it. I'm 6 feet tall and honestly, it's all leg. So flying in the very best circumstance isn't very pleasant. My legs do not fit into the allotted space. How Chad flies without lashing out at other in agony, I'll never know.
Anyway, as I'm contorting myself into my seat, this funny, little gal (really little - 5' 3" tops) flits onto the plane and tells the flight attendant that she has a life threatening peanut allergy, so she really hopes they won't be serving any peanuts on this plane today. Bad news shorty, there will be lots of peanuts on this plane today. Peanuts, peanut M&Ms, trail mix with peanuts. There will also be meals served that have walnuts and pine nuts. It is going to be a nut-filled flight.
Shorty begins having a mild conniption fit. Don't they know that people have allergies? Do they want her to get sick? Do they want her to die? (I almost piped up and said "Not die, but I do want you to at least get off the plane so I can have your seat." I decided, however, that it was perhaps not the best time for my input.)
They explain that it isn't a problem. There policy is not to serve any peanuts for 3 rows ahead or behind her, so she will be fine. Not good enough, she says, she gets sick at the mere smell of peanuts. Her's is an airborne allergy; they cannot serve any peanuts on this plane. End of discussion.
Not quite the end of the discussion, they say. Had she told the reservations agent that she had this issue they would have happily loaded this flight with a complete set of offerings that did not include any nuts. (At this point, I think, wow, really? As long as they have advanced notice they will change what they offer on the entire flight? I might call next time and say I have a deathly peanut allergy, cause I'm getting mighty sick of the same old in-flight menu. Time to change it up a little.)
Here's what needs to happen, shorty says. They aren't going to serve any nuts. They are going to make an announcement that says someone on board has a severe food allergy and if you brought anything with nuts on board you can't get them out during the flight.
Um, no. They try to compromise. They offer to extend their 3 row policy to 5 rows or even 10 rows, but they are going to serve the food they have and they can't control what people brought on the flight.
Then shorty hits the roof. She flies all the time. She flies on A airlines and B airlines and C airlines and they know better than to offer peanuts on their flights. They don't make it so difficult. They want her business. (Oh, I'm really hoping she gets mad enough to get off the plane. Really, really hoping...)
The flight crew really try to reason with her. What will happen to her? Is she prepared with medical supplies for an emergency? She is she says, but if she smells a peanut, she's going to get hives. Huh? Hives. I thought you were going to die? Then she says fine, with all the huff and disgust she can muster, she'll just take a Benadryl.
Ok, seriously, wait. Let's just recap. Eating a peanut = anaphylactic shock and death. Smelling a peanut = hives. We are holding up 300 people because you might get hives?
Lest I sound heartless or you think I have no respect for how serious allergies can be, let me just say, I have terrible allergies. They are totally unpredictable, because I'm allergic to so many things I can never be sure when I might encounter them. I almost always have Benadryl with me, because I've had lots of problems on airplanes. However, my allergies are not life threatening and do not require me to carry an Epi-pen, so I'm lucky that way.
I'm also not sure whether or not you can got into anaphylactic shock simply by smelling peanuts. You probably can, I don't rule out the possibility of such things just because I've never heard of them. But if you truly have an allergy that is that severe then I have two thoughts...
1) You take every conceivable precaution ahead of time. You tell every person associated with the airline that you have this life threatening condition. You do not wait until you are in your seat and they are waiting to close the door to bring it up.
2) You do not pitch a 10 min fit and then go oh, yeah, I guess I can take a Benadryl and I'll probably be fine.
So back to hive girl. Here I am, crammed into my little seat, really wishing I had a peanut butter cracker ;) and I'm feeling a bit irked.
I thought about the time I flew on an international flight next to a hissing, fur flying cat and while I wanted to suggest we strap a tiny parachute to its cage and toss it out of the plane, I didn't. I took a Benadryl.
I thought about the time I flew on a flight with a woman and her lemur. That's right, folks, her lemur. I remember how the flight attendants ooohhed and aaahhhed over it and took it out of its cage and let it sit on their shoulders! I wanted to say seriously people, why don't you fill a pellet gun full of that thing's fur and shoot it right into my eyes? But I didn't, I took a Benadryl.
I remembered the time I sat next to an enormous woman (I'm sorry, but she was, bless her heart) and during the course of a three hour flight she literally bathed herself head to toe in a lotion so smelly that I'm pretty sure ancient Egyptians used it to embalm mummies. I wanted to take the bottle of lotion and beat her over the head with it, but I didn't. I...that's right...took a Benadryl.
Yes, the big discussion, the talking back and forth with the captain, the ranting about her possible premature death...it all felt like a show, but perhaps I'm jaded by what happened next.
We reach our cruising altitude and she reclines her seat all the way back, effectively shoving my kneecaps into an unholy position, which knee caps were not meant to occupy. Really? You have to recline your seat all the way? It isn't enough that you are sitting in a peanut free zone, on the best seat on the plane, with 6 feet of legroom in front of you? It was all I could do not to thuwmp her on the back of the head.
Home Sweet Home
I swiftly deplaned and made my way through the airport and at the bottom of the escalator was a sight to make all the frustration melt away. Two little angles, in their pjs, holding a big red sign they made that said:
Welcom! Home! Mom! We love you!
Oh, I missed them. Even on the flight I missed them. When you are busy taking care of your kids, you don't have time to be annoyed or uncomfortable. The whole things is less about you. Plus you get to put your super long legs into their leg space, because they totally don't need it all. Bonus!
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