and the adventures continue

I'm glad Wednesday night's flight was so uneventful. Because today's was a bit rougher. You know the type of flight, the one where the captain comes on before you've even taxied to the runway and says "We're going to keep the seatbelt sign on for the full flight today because of the turbulence. And no beverage service." At that point I was quite glad that I had stomped my foot, made them call a manager, and finally personally appealed to the guy who was supposed to be seated next to me to ask him to move so that I could bring the carseat onboard (I did have a notion the weather wasn't great around NYC).

I have a dear friend who has the most incredible flexibility and has in the past (with me as witness) managed to feed her 6-week-old while he was strapped into a carseat by contorting her body over the seat. Under the circumstances, I tried. And failed. And so I had to take TS out briefly to breastfeed her because she was hungry, but then I spent the rest of the flight trying to comfort her while she was strapped into her carseat. She was not happy at all, but also surprisingly not loud. Perhaps the awful injustice of it all kept her from yelling out, so she instead reverted to very sad faces and silent tears. Odd but much appreciated by everyone else on the packed (the one empty seat went to TS) and tiny plane.

Which makes the silliness of our first battle this morning seem even more absurd. The bright, shiny new terminal of the airport 'down South' has an escalator and elevator from check-in level down to the gates. And it was broken. Not such a big deal. I'll freely admit to having manuveured many umbrella strollers onto escalators in the past. But this morning I had a stroller loaded down with a heavy duffel (yeah for visiting grandparents - TS now owns a bathing suit and at least 10 new outfits plus a Raffi CD - it brings back memories ...), my laptop, work books, purse, food and baby. So I was not about to take it onto the escalator myself. All I needed was one brave soul to wheel the stroller onto the escalator while I carried the baby. But none of the security guards offered (in fact, they all tried desperately to advert their eyes and pretend I was invisible). So I flagged down a police officer who unethusiastically suggested that I suffer the same indignity as the poor wheelchair-bound man waiting patiently for the elevator to be repaired ('within an hour, really'). When glowering did not seem to suceede, I mustered up a few (very, very fake looking) tears and the poor police officer grudgingly manuveured the stroller down the escalator while TS and I made a triumpant descent of the stairs. Really, he thinks I'm going to miss a flight because of a broken elevator?