Thursday, July 30, 2015


Last week, Jon's boss told him he had to go on a business trip to Connecticut.  Within a matter of hours, we decided Violet and I should travel along and make a little mini vacay of it.  I immediately began scouring Pinterest for tips and tricks on how to keep Violet occupied during our four hour flight.  Per the advice of the Pinterest gods, I had a new distraction activity planned for every 15 minutes.  I had post-its, Band-aids, Wonder Markers, pipe cleaners, an etch-a-sketch, a calculator, a DVD player (along with some annoying 90's sing-a-longs), tape, mini pom poms, a pill box (for opening and closing a million times), lots of snacks, a cereal necklace, Play-Doh, and hundreds and hundreds of stickers.

I had all this crap organized.  I was ready.  Then reality hit me in the face like a purse full of bricks.

So as we're going through security, Jon's bag tests positive for explosives.  Naturally they want to look inside and stuff inside tests positive for explosives.  (Obviously it just didn't occur to us to wipe down our stuff after playing with explosives.  We'll know better next time.  Un-bunch those panties TSA---this is just a joke.)  So then they sent for someone "official."  They used words like "interrogation" and told me not to have any physical contact with Jon.  Finally, it's determined Jon is in fact NOT a terrorist and we're free to go.

We make it to our departure gate with a few minutes to spare.  Just as it's time to board, they announce the flight is delayed for 30 minutes.  Then another 30 minutes, and another, and another, and another.  Turns out our plane's primary and secondary systems (not sure what they are, but they sound important) failed inspection and we were getting a new plane.

After about two and a half hours waiting to board, we are finally allowed onto the plane.  All the passengers are quick to buckle up so we can get this show on the road.  Then they tell us our second plane's smoke alarms aren't working and need to be fixed, but it'll only take 30-45 minutes.  (30-45 minutes really meant an hour and a half.)

So the smoke alarms are finally working and we're good to go.  Then they decide to change the flight crew.

We finally arrive at our destination four hours late.

For the next three and a half days we spent time with family.  It was nice to just relax and enjoy being outside in not-one-hundred-degree weather.  

On the day of our departure, we were nervous, but optimistic that things couldn't possibly be worse than our flight there.  But this is real life and poop happens.  Our first flight home was delayed, causing us to miss our connecting flight---despite our attempts to run to the gate with a backpack, a purse, a diaper bag, a carry on, a car seat, and Violet.  I'm not kidding, we missed it by 5 minutes.  FIVE MINUTES.  So, after an hour in a customer service line, we spent the night five hours in some Chicago hotel.

We finally made it home.  A day late and nine dollars short, because that's how much room service yogurt costs.

So, the moral of this story is, don't fly United.  And pack thousands of stickers, not hundreds.