A Travel Tale

I'm off to Melbourne this weekend. Hasn't quite hit me yet as I've been ill with the flu and busy at work. Just looked up the match day information for the Dees v Hawks game at the G though and can't believe I'll be there in a couple of days.

It's just the wife and I doing the trip. The little man's very kind grandparents will be looking after him so we'll be enjoying some extended 'husband and wife' time for the first time since....ummm...ahhh...since the son came on board I think. Wow. We are overdue then.

We did head to Melbourne last year for a holiday but the son enjoyed that ride as well then. Overall, the trip was great as we enjoyed some good weather in the various parks, cafes and zoos while also introducing the son to his first game at the G.

That trip will always be remembered, however, for the journey down. It was hell on earth and could easily be turned into a documentary on how not to organise yourselves, or on why you shouldn't travel with small children.

It began with the wife having a small traffic incident the week before we left. Not so much 'traffic' though. She ran into a stationary pole. The end result was that we had a rental car for the days leading up to the Melbourne trip which we'd arranged to dropoff at the airport before we left.

Our flight down was leaving at 10am from memory. We did wake early and get organised before throwing everything in the car and heading off. We thought we'd left enough time but low and behold, we struck traffic in the leadup to the Airport Link construction and moved about 200m in 15 minutes.

Once we cleared that traffic shortly after, we raced toward the car rental place and parked immediately while trying to get the attention of one of the attendants. One of them was dealing with another customer while another seemed to be checking his text messages on his mobile phone. While we waited, we unloaded the car and had everything sitting on the path, including our luggage and a baby car seat.

Finally, an attendant wandered over and did a rudimentary check of the vehicle before handing us a receipt. I was a little suspicious of his fuel calculation but with the flight due to leave in only 40 mins, I had to dismiss ideas of disputing it and took off for the terminal with all our luggage, and the wife carrying the son and the car seat.

Inside the terminal, we saw a massive queue snaking its way around the barriers. Our hearts sank but we joined the end of it before the wife headed off to try and take care of the car seat. For we had a plan for it. Having previously worked for the airline, the wife had a contact who said she'd be happy to mind the car seat in her office while we were away.

The son at this point decided he didn't want to just stand in line with me. With good reason I guess. Not exactly what a 15 month old finds fascinating. So he is taking off and running around willy-nilly. I'm trying to juggle him as well as the luggage, ducking under the barriers while also trying to make sure we keep moving along in the queue.

The wife returns looking a little flustered after struggling to find her old mate's office but has eventually managed to decamp it. Our rolled eyes meet as the son takes off again and she picks him up only to cop a stray elbow in the eye and her head rocks back accordingly. The son isn't happy about being constrained so lashes out and hits her in the side of the head. All of this in front of about 100 others lining up in the queue. Is this candid camera? Where are the cameras?

We eventually get to the end of the queue and manage to check-in with only minutes to spare as the flight is due to take-off in 20 minutes. I think the ground crew attendant took pity on us. We certainly would have made quite a sight in our stressed and confused states.

So then it was a mad dash to the Gate. And of course given the day we were having, it was the furthest Gate away. We ran like mad with the son in my arms and laughing manically thinking it was all a game. We arrived at the Gate just as they were announcing our names and within seconds we found ourselves on the plane and in our seats. Hallelujah. We'd made it.

You probably think the story ends there don't you? Well, it doesn't. But oh how I wish it did.

The son being so young meant he had to sit on my lap the whole two hours down to Melbourne. We'd also planned the flight time to coincide with his normal sleep routine so the thought was that he'd sleep a lot of the way.

Take-off was pretty good as he was fascinated by it all and was mesmerised as he looked out the window towards the ground below. Not long after though, all hell broke loose.

The son had only learnt to walk a couple of months before and was therefore enjoying, some would say revelling, in his new-found independence. He was not going to be happy then to just sit in my lap and stare out the window. He wanted to get up and about and wander and check everything out.

Alas, the food services and a bit of turbulence meant we had to stay seated pretty much the whole way. And the son wasn't a happy camper about that at all. For pretty much the two hours he screamed and squirmed in my arms trying to get away from me and utilise the two things extending from his hips, the newly discovered legs.

The noise was obviously bad but those around us were quite good as some of them gave us plenty of sympathetic looks. You could cetainly tell who were the parents and who weren't. But we felt bad nonetheless and wished we could be beamed up like Scotty right there and then.

So yeah, the screaming is taking its toll but the real issue, for me anyway, is the squirming and the pushing and the pulling. I'm not exactly a small man but even I was struggling to hold on to the son and keep him on my lap. My arms  were fatigued and my back and neck muscles were in a constant contraction. In the rush to the plane, I also hadn't had an opportunity to take off my jumper so now I'm sweating like crazy with all the effort.

The wife did get a chance to take the son for a walk down the aisle after the second food service. Of course, he charmed everyone and no-one could probably believe that this was the same child. Big smile on his face the whole time and absolutely loving the attention.

But as the descent commenced, it was back in my arms and the seat belt on. And it was on again. Only worse after he'd managed to get that taste of freedom. The screaming was unbelieveable now and a couple of angry swipes took some skin off the tip of my nose. My neck was so tense trying to keep him still that I imagined I'd never be able to turn my head again.

This goes on non-stop for about 15 minutes. I look out the window and see that we can now make out cars on the roads so surely we'll be landed in a matter of minutes. The struggles from the son continue and I sense the wife is shedding a tear from the torment of it all. I can't reassure her though as I need every ounce of my being to control the son.

We can now see the airport out of the left window and all of sudden there's calmness in my arms. I look down at the son and he's fast asleep. Yep, after two hours of flying and within only 60 seconds of landing, he has finally passed out and his snoring a little. You've got to be joking? Even a couple in the row across are shaking their heads at the 'murphys law' of it all.

So we've landed now and it's time to get all our stuff and disembark. Not such an onerous task. Except for when you have a sleeping baby in your arms and your $hit scared about waking them. Alas, we managed to get out into the terminal and collect our luggage which included our pram. I carefully place the son into it and the wife and I look at each other in utter disbelief.

We decide it's best to try and let the son sleep for a while without disturbing him too much. But where can we just sit still for a while and wait? Ah yes, the bar. So we wheel the pram over to the airport bar and take a seat, completely beaten and demoralised. In the end, we just ordered coffees and stared at the wall in front of us. The horror, the horror.

The son eventually woke up and we proceeded to the taxi line. The driver then couldn't fit the pram in his car. What tha 'ell is going on? I then started rearranging everything, including the driver's seat, and finally I am able to fit the pram components across different parts of the car. The son's fully awake now and we're really afraid of the 20 minute trip into town as he'll have to sit on our laps once again.

Alas, he's pretty good and we make it to our hotel. We dump the luggage on the floor and fall on to the bed. It's been six hours since we left our house. It feels like a whole day has already past in that time.

But as I said earlier, the rest of the holiday was great from then on. We did rearrange our flights back for two hours after the son's normal sleep time and ran him around like crazy for that time to tire him out. He slept most of the way back then but we were on edge the whole time. With vivid memories of the hellish trip down still in my minds.

Now, I do recognise that plenty of friends and family have done much longer flights with kids than that. Across the Pacific. Across Asia. Across the Atlantic. But hey, this is my blog and I'm telling my story.

Just waiting now for the movie to come out. Toddlers On A Plane. Maybe it'll be shown during our flight down this time. Or maybe I'll just quietly read a book and contemplate how different this trip should be.

Surely it has to be. Oh please god, let it be.

EDM.