Saturday, February 25, 2012

Fear of Flying

I don't think I've ever re-posted an entire entry, but I'm going to make an exception tonight. Tomorrow we set off on our annual (pretty much) adventure to Florida. My in-laws live there and generously sponsor our visit each February during school vacation. It is a VERY big treat and we work hard not to take it for granted.

Back in 2009, this trip ended in a most, errrrr, colorful way. Since many of my readers have not been here too long, I thought I would share the story here. I originally posted it on Facebook and it was a big hit. Mostly because people were thinking "THANK GOD THAT WASN'T ME!"

Florida 2009... This part of the trip was a BLAST!

Worse Than The Griswolds

We get on the plane. Elliott has been a little cranky but not too bad all day. We take off and he's nervous and whiney. We get to altitude and I take him out of his car seat to give him some squeezes and reassurance. The 8th grader next to me says, "I'm so glad I'm not sitting next to that crying kid." 

Then, Elliott barfs. 
All over me and him and on this poor girl's travel pillow.

He and I head back to the bathroom. Scott - who's sitting across the aisle with Tommy - joins us. The now barfed-upon girl moves to Scott's seat next to Tom. Tommy is amused by most of this.
In the back of the plane we assess. Elliott will need to be completely stripped. The flight attendents come with paper towels and handiwipes. Great. The extra clothes I put in the carry-on for him got moved to the checked bags at some point. He will be hanging in his diaper. Which smells like he's had a mega-poo but is actually dry and clean. Scott wraps him in a blanket and they are back to the seats. 

Then, I look at my own situation. I have puke down my shirt, all over my pants, in my bra... Bad news. And I never even considered extra clothes for me in the carry on so I am hosed. Scott, thankfully, had on a t-shirt under his shirt so... off with my top and bra, on with Scott's t-shirt. Yay. White. Totally classy. But what about my pants? They were covered. One of the flight attendents appears with a blanket (saying, by the way, "you can take the blanket with you...") Off with my pants and on with a very attractive flight blanket-as-sarong. Add the visual of my running sneakers and the scent of vomit and I think you have a pretty good picture of just how fabulous I am in this situation.

 So, Tommy is now in Elliott's car seat. Elliott is now in Scott's lap (sleeping-ish) and I am in the middle. And... Scott is rapidly getting very queasy. Back he goes to the bathroom to barf. Aaagh! I am watching Elliott now because I'm getting the feeling that as much as he barfed, he might not be done. Good thing. Even though he tried to cover his mouth with his hands I managed to catch the last remains of his stomach contents in a barf bag. Nice.

Getting off the plane we looked like complete refugees. Garbage bags full of stinking clothes. Elliott weary and whimpering and now wearing Scott's sweatshirt. Me in my somewhat alarming costume. Scott, in post-puke white out. And poor Tommy, who, considering everything was pretty good, saying "Can I have a donut now??"

You can imagine the fiasco of getting some clothes on us and how we looked waiting for the luggage. You can imagine the misery of the boys and I waiting for Scott to get the car. In spite of being sick, Scott wanted to drive home... until he had to pull over to throw up again. Then I drove. 

We planned to give Tommy and then Elliott a bath to rid them of the stench and germs. Then obviously we would shower. A simple plan. Not asking too much, right? Well.... our house was FREEZING when we got home. We were OUT OF OIL! So, no heat, no hot water, no showers or baths. AAAAAGHHHH! (When we changed oil companies apparently I didn't sign up for automatic delivery. What was i thinking??? I know, actually. It was August and the full impact of running out of oil was not foremost in the head.)

And that was just the LAST day of vacation!!!

After I typed that up (it was literally as soon as everyone went to bed since it was too good a story to hold onto!) I started to feel sick. I spent the next 48 hours in the bathroom. My problems took a southerly route and were just.plain.awful. Tommy, by some miracle, never had any kind of bug out of all this.

Since then, every time I get on a plane I get anxious.... and queasy! Here's hoping our adventures this year do not garner a similar tale to tell!!

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