I was commiserating with some friends recently about how flying just isn’t as fun as it used to be.
During a flight I took this week, I was particularly observant of fellow flyers, like the lady in security who put her bags on the belt then stood in front of a metal detector that was roped off. No matter how long she stood there, no one was going to open it up and let her through, but there she stood. Maybe she was hung-over?
Then the passengers in front of me (and behind), who loaded up the belt with goods to be scanned but never pushed them through, just walked away to the metal detector. Why sure, I’ll do that for you. Maybe you are hung-over too?
Then there was the wading through a throng of people who decided to wait for boarding in the busy concourse walkway, leaving barely enough room for the rest of us to pass (including the flight attendant who has carrying FOUR bags). I doubt they are ALL hung-over, just unaware perhaps.
And so was the girl waiting right by the boarding door (pictured by wardrobe only below), even though she was in zone FIVE.....the last one.
Despite the weirdness, things were looking good during boarding. The six wheelchairs loaded with ease, there was plenty of overhead space and clean, polite passengers were seated next to me. Then I heard it …yip yip yip. The dog on this flight far outweighed the annoyance of a crying child; constant, yipping and yowling. I’m sure all of my friends reading this who fly with little dogs, have well behaved pets, or ones that are slightly drugged for relaxation.
It was so bad that the little boy behind me said rather loudly, “That dog is annoying.” He caught my ear. Usually I have ear buds in by this time but I left them behind and had been lamenting the oversight until this moment.
It was the boy’s first flight and I got a play by play, along with the rest of the plane, as his exuberant voice carried. When the flaps on the wings first moved he yelled WOAH! Then, “MOM WE’RE MOVING.” He also let us know we were turning, moving a little too slowly, and passing other planes, among other things.
While I was amused, the joy for me came in hearing his laughter, squeal and shout as we gained speed and took off. It was the best take off I’ve had in a long time, smiling laughing with every loud exclamation I heard from him.
And it continued through the flight with him questioning the “dings” heard over the intercom, asking his mom if we were going into space, if we had enough fuel, swearing he could see his house from the air and gasping when his view was suddenly erased by a bank of clouds.
Suddenly I didn’t hear the grating cries of that dog anymore, or the lady in front complaining because she would really like someone to take her middle seat so she could have an aisle (good luck sister). I actually enjoyed flying again because I saw the wonderment of it through the virgin flight of a little boy.
Thank you lil man.