Airplane Adventures

Beeeeeppp Beepppp went the alarm clock at four in the morning.

I groaned as I slapped it quiet. It was way too early to be awake. And to think, some people wake up at four in the morning on purpose to work out. There is no way I could wake up at 4 in the morning to work out. Or any other time, really.

We had to wake up early to make a flight. I stumbled into the children's room and the second I rubbed Tommy's back, he bolted out of bed.

"Is it time?" he asked with way too much enthusiam for 403 in the morning.

"It's time," I confirmed.

Then I went in to get Natalie and she mumbled, "Airplane?"

"Yup, we have to drive to the airplane."

She seemed a little out of it. I brought her downstairs and she blinked at the kitchen floor for a few minutes going, "Floor? Floor?" over and over again. Poor lass, she isn't a morning person either.

Or so I thought. Five minutes later and she was racing around the living room with Tommy. Where they find the energy that early in the morning is beyond me. I sat blinking on the couch, my mouth agape as if I wasn't quite sure what was going on.

When we got to the airport I was a little more alert but in desperate need for caffeine. After I got a Diet Coke I gripped it close to me as if it were a priceless object. Then I walked Tom and the kids to their gate--yes, just their gate as they were traveling to North Carolina without me while I visited my friend Jennifer in Ohio. (I'm re-joining them on Thursday.)

After I saw them off, I headed to my own gate where I cracked open a book (Emily Giffin's newest) and relished in the silence. Of course twenty minutes in and I was missing my kids when I saw other passengers approach with theirs in tow.

But the thing is, I can't escape kids. Because guess who I sat by on the plane?

Yup. A kid. About eight years old. His mother and two siblings were sitting behind us. I was smack dab in between him and this old lady, who promptly turned the overhead air conditioner on high. I immediately got cold but what could I do? You can't mess with old ladies or else they can smack you over the head with their purse or something. And also, the old lady, who I dubbed Cold Lady since she cranked up the air, closed the window. I mean, hello? I like looking out the window to make sure the wings aren't smoking so we don't crash to our deaths. But again, I couldn't do a thing because I was stuck in the middle.

And then there was the kid. Oh, the kid.

See, I started to read my Cosmo magazine and the kid leaned into my personal bubble and looked at though he were reading it. Obviously it's not appropriate for kids so I tried to tilt away but then that meant I was in the Cold Lady's air. So there I was trying to read Cosmo with the magazine mostly shut so the kid couldn't see. I was reading all about 99 New Sex Facts and yes, in a few years the kid might appreciate what he read but still, I didn't want his Mom to lecture me about appropriate reading.

Still, the kid seemed to leer at me. Where were his video games for craps sake? Why was he bugging me? Did his Mom forget to buy him stuff to keep him entertained? It certainly wasn't my job.

"Doug, here's your book," the Mom said, as if reading my thoughts. She poked her head up and handed her kid a chapter book. Then her eyes rested on the magazine that I was reading and she frowned as though I were the one at fault. As though I were the pervert.

If she had said anything I'd have been tempted to be all, "I paid good money for this crappy seat and I'll read what I darn well please."

In the end I put the magazine away and read my book because I'm too nice. And because I didn't want the kid to say at dinner, "What a g-spot?"