Mayday! Mayday!
The blog's title isn't related to yesterday being May Day, but rather the international distress call by the same name.
With Sara out of town last week, Stella and I decided to pay a visit to my parents in Milwaukee. I decided the short flight would be easier than driving by myself. Getting through security was a bit of a juggling act, but eventually we made it on the plane and I figured the hard part was over. We endured a delay at the gate and played some games. Stella was pleasant and seemed to be enjoying herself. Everything was going well as we taxied out on the tarmac. The pilot hit the gas,the engines roared, we started barreling down the runway and then all hell broke loose. Apparently last time Stella flew she was too young to appreciate her surroundings. Not so this time. She was highly aware and seriously unhappy. Terrorized would be a more accurate description. The next twenty five minutes consisted of blood curdling screams and my feeble attempts at calming her down. Eventually she was so exhausted that she passed out for the last part of the flight with only a brief revival and screaming session during landing.
The most remarkable part was that once we were back on terra firma, she was completely normal, even exchanging pleasantries with some of the shell shocked passengers unfortunate enough to be seated around us. One guy commented that she must be glad that was over, to which she responded "All done."
Once we arrived and I realized Stella wasn't going to be comatose for the whole weekend, I relaxed and we headed to catch our ride. We had already arranged for a car to pick us up because my Dad wasn't going to be able to get us and I didn't feel like dealing with a cab or rental. Since our flight was delayed, the car company had to make some adjustments, and rather than the discrete black town car we were expecting, we ended up in a stretch limo. As you can see, Stella enjoyed the ride.
After we arrived at grandma and grandpa's everything went according to plan. Stella ate a lot of cookies, got a present and a new outfit, went for some horse rides, watched a few movies, etc. (photos below) While all of this was going on, I spent my time in a state of fear and apprehension as I considered the flight home the next day. The prospect of getting on a plane had become as horrifying for me as it was for Stella. I toyed with renting a car, but decided I could tough it out if Stella could.
On the ride to the airport the next day, my mom wondered whether Stella was feeling an impending sense of doom. I assured her that I was the only one in the car capable of feeling that emotion at the moment.
Security at the airport was a snap. We got to our gate early and ate some candy and watched some movies while we waited to board. Then the moment of truth arrived. Things were looking good as we walked down the jetway, but once we stepped onto the plane Stella started freaking out. Apparently her memory was a little better this time.
Through what can only be described as an act of god, there were only 13 passengers in the coach section of the plane. Being that there were 20+ rows on this DC-9 we were able to get ourselves some space. I got Stella in her seat and managed to get her calmed down, although she was very tense. She was hunkered down in her chair and wouldn't look around or talk, but she held it together as I read books to her. I was better prepared this time. I shut the windows right away and had the video player ready, along with water and candy.
Stella sat tensely with her pacifier in her mouth, clutching her stuffed lamb, as we taxied onto the runway. All the while I read louder and louder. It was certainly one of the more theatrical versions of "We're going on Bear Hunt" I have ever delivered. Then the most interesting thing happened. As the pilot fired up the engines, she pulled her pacifier out and flung it AND her lamb onto my lap. She is reluctant to give up either of these even under normal conditions, so naturally I was a little shocked. I finally concluded she was playing the role of the weathered outlaw in the Western who takes a bullet in the leg. When the doc offers a bottle of whiskey and a piece of wood to bite on for the surgery, he shrugs it of and snarls "get on with it, I know what's coming!"
We left the ground without major incident. Stella looked horrified for the first 15 minutes of the flight, but between the books and the DVD player, she managed to hold it together. By the time the flight attendant came around with drinks, Stella was almost her usual self. Once we started our decent, the loud noises and bumpy ride sent Stella back into crisis mode, but still, she didn't lose it completely. I was very proud of her. Once again, she immediately returned to normal upon touchdown and delivered what was becoming her standard mantra following a flight - "all done."
It was quite an experience for both father and daughter, but we're no worse for the wear and had a nice visit to Milwaukee. That said, we won't be flying anytime soon.
PS. If anyone is thinking "I should call him and tell him it was probably her ears," I have already heard it. A few people on the plane were nice enough to offer that advice in the midst of the maelstrom (along with gum and potato chips). While it is a logical theory, the ENT who put the tubes in her ears mentioned that she wouldn't have any pain flying in the future since there was no longer any possibility of pressure in her ears (due to the small holes in her eardrums). Chalk one up for raw fear, I guess.
With Sara out of town last week, Stella and I decided to pay a visit to my parents in Milwaukee. I decided the short flight would be easier than driving by myself. Getting through security was a bit of a juggling act, but eventually we made it on the plane and I figured the hard part was over. We endured a delay at the gate and played some games. Stella was pleasant and seemed to be enjoying herself. Everything was going well as we taxied out on the tarmac. The pilot hit the gas,the engines roared, we started barreling down the runway and then all hell broke loose. Apparently last time Stella flew she was too young to appreciate her surroundings. Not so this time. She was highly aware and seriously unhappy. Terrorized would be a more accurate description. The next twenty five minutes consisted of blood curdling screams and my feeble attempts at calming her down. Eventually she was so exhausted that she passed out for the last part of the flight with only a brief revival and screaming session during landing.
The most remarkable part was that once we were back on terra firma, she was completely normal, even exchanging pleasantries with some of the shell shocked passengers unfortunate enough to be seated around us. One guy commented that she must be glad that was over, to which she responded "All done."
Once we arrived and I realized Stella wasn't going to be comatose for the whole weekend, I relaxed and we headed to catch our ride. We had already arranged for a car to pick us up because my Dad wasn't going to be able to get us and I didn't feel like dealing with a cab or rental. Since our flight was delayed, the car company had to make some adjustments, and rather than the discrete black town car we were expecting, we ended up in a stretch limo. As you can see, Stella enjoyed the ride.
After we arrived at grandma and grandpa's everything went according to plan. Stella ate a lot of cookies, got a present and a new outfit, went for some horse rides, watched a few movies, etc. (photos below) While all of this was going on, I spent my time in a state of fear and apprehension as I considered the flight home the next day. The prospect of getting on a plane had become as horrifying for me as it was for Stella. I toyed with renting a car, but decided I could tough it out if Stella could.
On the ride to the airport the next day, my mom wondered whether Stella was feeling an impending sense of doom. I assured her that I was the only one in the car capable of feeling that emotion at the moment.
Security at the airport was a snap. We got to our gate early and ate some candy and watched some movies while we waited to board. Then the moment of truth arrived. Things were looking good as we walked down the jetway, but once we stepped onto the plane Stella started freaking out. Apparently her memory was a little better this time.
Through what can only be described as an act of god, there were only 13 passengers in the coach section of the plane. Being that there were 20+ rows on this DC-9 we were able to get ourselves some space. I got Stella in her seat and managed to get her calmed down, although she was very tense. She was hunkered down in her chair and wouldn't look around or talk, but she held it together as I read books to her. I was better prepared this time. I shut the windows right away and had the video player ready, along with water and candy.
Stella sat tensely with her pacifier in her mouth, clutching her stuffed lamb, as we taxied onto the runway. All the while I read louder and louder. It was certainly one of the more theatrical versions of "We're going on Bear Hunt" I have ever delivered. Then the most interesting thing happened. As the pilot fired up the engines, she pulled her pacifier out and flung it AND her lamb onto my lap. She is reluctant to give up either of these even under normal conditions, so naturally I was a little shocked. I finally concluded she was playing the role of the weathered outlaw in the Western who takes a bullet in the leg. When the doc offers a bottle of whiskey and a piece of wood to bite on for the surgery, he shrugs it of and snarls "get on with it, I know what's coming!"
We left the ground without major incident. Stella looked horrified for the first 15 minutes of the flight, but between the books and the DVD player, she managed to hold it together. By the time the flight attendant came around with drinks, Stella was almost her usual self. Once we started our decent, the loud noises and bumpy ride sent Stella back into crisis mode, but still, she didn't lose it completely. I was very proud of her. Once again, she immediately returned to normal upon touchdown and delivered what was becoming her standard mantra following a flight - "all done."
It was quite an experience for both father and daughter, but we're no worse for the wear and had a nice visit to Milwaukee. That said, we won't be flying anytime soon.
PS. If anyone is thinking "I should call him and tell him it was probably her ears," I have already heard it. A few people on the plane were nice enough to offer that advice in the midst of the maelstrom (along with gum and potato chips). While it is a logical theory, the ENT who put the tubes in her ears mentioned that she wouldn't have any pain flying in the future since there was no longer any possibility of pressure in her ears (due to the small holes in her eardrums). Chalk one up for raw fear, I guess.
posted by kjb at
6:36 PM
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