The year before I gave birth to Owen I flew 70,000 miles for work. Well, I actually flew a lot more than that, but that was my number on my airline of choice. I lost my job in November and beyond the regular devastation was the crushing fact that after my last work trip I was a mere 4,000 miles short of achieving platinum status. I have been gold for years but due to the fact I fly on several airlines I always seem to fall just short of platinum. I actually considered taking a final trip on my own to reach my lofty goal before realizing that my status wouldn't really reap me as many benefits in my living room or on the playground at Washington Square Park as it does when you fly every week. Sadly, there are no upgrades on the subway.
I had a love/hate relationship with travelling for work. I often missed activities with friends but really loved going to so many places I would never have gone before. True, many of those places I would never choose to go again but something can be said for getting to travel to Huron, South Dakota where I met a student named "Super White" who was in fact not anything close to super white, or Garden City Kansas, where we stopped a training to walk outside and watch a just-born baby giraffe learn to walk. And I crowed with joy as I reached high status at hotels, car rental places, and more. I am the woman who watched the movie "Up In the Air" and as George Clooney's character broke into the high school gym nudged by husband and triumphantly whispered, "He's using a Hilton Honors Gold Card." It was indeed a badge of honor to pick the fastest line at the airport and being able to get my suitcase, computer, LCD projector, and carry-on through security faster than the average person with just a purse. I could take off my shoes with one hand, unzip a case with another and finish my water with the third. .well, you get the point.
So I realize that the first travelling with a baby would be a test of sorts. I know that it would have to be a little more difficult but really, I'm a bit of a pro, it's really no more challenging that negotiating an extra bag. I still have access to the Elite Access line and spent the week before preparing some zingy come-back lines for any business travelers who questioned my right to be there. And I do realize there is something wrong with the fact that I prepare come-backs ahead of time but that is another blog. How much harder could it be? What extra stuff do I have? A car seat? A stroller? A diaper bag? Some breast milk? And yes, I deliberately put five ounces in that bottle just to be cantankerous. It's my right. And, I'm prepared to drink it if I have to prove it's not a liquid explosive, though I have come to realize that non-mothers are oddly terrified of breast milk so it's not a likely scenario.
I come to the line with a plan and I execute it fairly flawlessly, tossing bags onto the belt with the alacrity and grace of a Platinum Traveler but then I get to the stoller/car seat combo. I once saw a man break down and cry from trying to break down a stroller through security. After trying unsuccessfully to collapse it for close to five minutes, he started banging it against the belt while begging the TSA to just let him walk it through with the stroller opened while his two children ran back and forth through the metal detector shrieking. I would have helped but at this point I was pre-baby and had as little chance of success as I do at those damn spatial relations tests where I have to figure out what this drawing would look like when folded. Finally an obvious mother swooped down and helped him and he actually hugged her whimpering, " I kept trying to figure out how I would explain to my wife that I left the stroller at the airport."
So, I am prepared for the stroller fight but all in all, it is pretty anti-climactic. Granted, I did spend a few hours opening and closing the stroller the night before, lifting it from floor to table, as if it were the security belt. (Hum the Rocky theme here if you will.) I hand Owen to my husband, zip out the car seat, fold up the frame, and done. I am not quite as fast as normal but all in all, people should be impressed. I really think that I have earned at least a small round of applause but nothing comes. I want to shout, "Come-on people, I did that faster than the average mid-western tourist, can I get some love? "
I take Owen back and walk through security. We don't beep as I was extra careful to take all of the change, cell phones, and keys out of Owen's diaper and sigh a big sigh of relief. In fact that I am so proud and relieved that I forget there is another side to this security thing and this side I do all wrong.
When the car seat comes through, I put Owen in (safety first) and then place the car seat on the belt. I notice my stuff still in the machine but don't reach for it because I know not to put my hand in the machine because after all, this is not my first rodeo. So, I try to put on my shoes while keeping one hand on the car seat, and packing up my diaper bag with the other. I am mildly disappointed there was no breast milk confrontation but I'm willing to cut my losses and run for the gate. And then I grow impatient - what is the hold up on this line? The belt is not moving so I can't get the rest of my bags. Isn't this supposed to be the frequent traveler line? And why does everyone seem to be looking at me? If they want to praise me, they should not be shy. If they want to apologize for questioning why I was in the Elite Access line because it is so apparent that I must be someone who was JUST shy of platinum status, why, they should feel free to go ahead and do so.
And then I realize, the belt is not moving because my baby is on the belt. And if the belt did move, well, probably the baby would have fallen off. Suddenly, I don't feel so frequent traveler cool. I take the car seat off the belt, and magically it starts to move again. I slink to the end, where my husband and I re-assemble everything and head towards our gate where they are already boarding. On the way, we pass Starbucks, and my husbands mouths, "Please!" but I know there is no way we are going to handle the next hurdle with coffee in our hands. And now we are going to have to navigate gate checking the stroller, over-head compartments, plane aisles and I have to be on my game and hot liquids are not a part of this plan.
(to be continued)
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