She informs me it’s a federal regulation that once you leave the plane you can’t come back on.
I say, in a loud voice simmering with disdain, “My kids are in the back of this plane. I. Need. To. Get. My. Kids!”
She says no.
Flight attendants had to carry my sleeping children and all of our crap off the plane because the EMPLOYEES of the airline didn’t inform me that once I LEFT THE PLANE, I couldn’t RETURN TO THE PLANE!
That would’ve been some valuable information.
Granted, it’s midnight. I’m in tears. I’m tired. I’m ticked off. I just want to be home in the fetal position with a glass of wine. I packed up our double stroller and left.
And you know what happened then? Another passenger, a mother of one toddler, who I’d had a brief lovely conversation with earlier in the day, walked with me the entire way to baggage. At first, I vented to her with some choice words and held-back tears. But then we just walked in silence.
It was one of those moments, even though I didn’t know her from Eve, where just her presence helped me on the walk to baggage claim.
My mom and brother picked us up at midnight, and we were all up until 2:30 a.m. eating grilled cheese. And drinking wine, of course.
My questions are these: What would you have done? Do you have any travel mishap stories? How can I get over my fear of ever flying with the kids again? What advice do you have for traveling mothers? If hypothetically my 8-year old heard a few choice words flying out of his mom’s mouth, is he scarred forever?
Turns out I should have just asked to speak to the captain of the plane. A family member in the industry explained that the captain’s job is to use common sense in that type of situation.
I’ll bear that in mind if I’m ever brave enough to fly by myself with 5 kids again. Ha.
***
Follow Laura Wolf on Facebook at Lowcountry Luna.
