Well, it has finally come to pass. On this flight we became “Those People with the Screaming Kid.”
It wasn’t our fault, really. It started in the airport. Our flight was late. We held Parker in our laps, after getting tired of following him around the airport. He was not terribly happy about it. A storm over D.C. delayed take-off for every flight out. After half an hour on the tarmac, we taxied back to the gate because air control had changed the direction of take-off for everyone, due to the storm.
We had to go back to the gate because obstacles (read: buildings) in the way of the new direction required the plane lose some extra weight in order to achieve more height faster, upon take-off. That weight would consist of passengers.
The flight attendant announced that they needed 23 passengers to volunteer to give up their seats, and be rescheduled on flights tomorrow afternoon. Half the plane stood up.
The flight attendant announced that those the luggage of those 23 passengers would not leave the plane, but would travel on to Michigan. Half those standing sat down.
Meanwhile, as people sorted it all out, Parker squirmed, whined, screamed, cried and went back and forth between me and the hubby. A flight attendant came down the aisle offering water. When he offered some to me, I considered asking for a cyanide tablet to go with it. (He didn’t have any.)
About that time, a paranoid guy a couple of rows back starts needling the flight attendant, saying that he thinks there’s something wrong with the plane, and that we just weren’t being told. A discussion with the flight attendant about under what conditions he could get off the plane then ensued.
That’s when I heard it. The guy behind me muttered to the guy next to him (loud enough for me to hear) “I don’t know which is worse, the row in front of us or the row behind us.” To clarify, he added “The one’s with the screaming baby.” The guy next to him said something about how that was to be expected (little kids & baby’s crying, I guess). But it was too late. I looked around and realized we were “Those People…”
Oh well, screw ‘em. I’d like to see them deal with a two-year-old stuck in a tiny little space for hours, not having had his afternoon nap, and maintain anything resembling composure. That’s about all they could do, because you can’t just make a kid stop crying half the time, at least not without being abusive.
My money says they couldn’t do it.
I know how hard that situation can be. How hard it is not to feel judged (“they must think I’m a bad parent”) and how hard it is not to judge them back (“they must hate kids”) and how hard it is not to get mad at your kid (who is acting perfectly normally for a child his age). Just breathe deeply, remember that most everyone else on the plane understands and empathizes with you, and that it only SEEMS like an eternity!
Just once I sat in a 747 center isle 2nd row from the front and in front was 4 mothers with babies. (at least they put them together) The babies cried and cried, the rest of the passengers complained…Loudly.
I stood up and turned around and faced all the passengers and all but yelled.
“Those of you that never cried as a baby may complain…The rest of you SHUT UP.”
The plane went dead silent.
The babies quieted down.
And I got so many free drinks from the staff I couldn’t drink them all.
Why is it the adults get pissy when babies and children act like babies and children? Its the adults that aren’t behaving properly the kids are just being kids.