A few weeks ago we took the boys to Disney World. Hubby was teaching a training session the next week, so we decided to take the boys to Orlando for a long weekend.
We had a great time, and it was so fun to take Small for his first time at Disney.
But . . . .
You know how the commercials show energetic, excited children chasing balloons gleefully and lovingly holding their parents’ hands? I want THAT family.
We picked the boys up at school early on Friday so that we could catch our flight to Orlando. Hubby complained about what he apparently considers my worst character flaw: slow packing. Keep in mind he throws some clean undies and some t-shirts in a bag and he’s done. I pack for the 3 boys and myself. They require many accoutrements, including special stuffed friends and blankets, entertainment for the plane, matching swimsuits, etc., and I require many accoutrements because, well, it takes a lot of work to be a natural beauty.
|"Apparently Her Majesty|
doesn't want to carry on."
So Hubby was already annoyed that we had several pieces of luggage for which we would have to pay a $25 fee. He suggested that we pack everything for our family of 5 in carry-on bags that we could easily take with us onto the plane, but I gently reminded him
$25 bucks it is. It's a small price to pay to keep Her Majesty happy.
We arrived at the airport in plenty of time, which was good, because the line to get through security held more people than Rockefeller Plaza during a Beiber appearance. Luckily my children are super patient and well-behaved so waiting in line for something as exciting as getting to take your shoes off and walk through a metal detector towards a menacing-looking stranger in a TSA uniform was no biggie.
And also, Hubby is super patient and well-behaved and is not the type to complain for the duration of our wait about how long the line is . . . we’re going to miss our flight . . . this is ridiculous . . . is this the first time these people have ever been to an airport? . . . who wears lace up boots through security? . . . no I’m not wearing any metal, etc.
We got to our gate with 3 children, all of whom were ours, so that was a bonus, and our stroller and our carry-ons full of schnacky-schnacks and in-flight entertainment for the under 10 crowd. OF COURSE it was a packed flight, so we were relieved when the flight attendant announced that service members, special people who sit in first class and look down their monocles at the riff-raff who are assigned to seats three rows behind them, and people with special needs could board.
Special needs. That’s us.
But nope. The flight attendant gently reminded us that this was a flight to Orlando, that most people flying were families with young children, and that we would have to wait our turn.
Now I’m just one person and I have no desire to take on a huge corporation so I won’t name them outright, but the airline starts with a U. (and ends with a “nited.”)
Hubby uttered a few choice words that were inappropriate for young ears and made sarcastic comments under his breath
really loudly while we
waited for our group to be called. In
keeping with the rest of this adventure, we were to board as Group 7, so we would be
boarding last, and because said airline felt the most logical way to board the
aircraft was from front to back, our family of five would be climbing over
monocle-wearing, brandy-sipping, Wall Street Journal-reading first class
passengers as well as six other groups of passengers.
Because we’re going to the Most Magical Place on Earth, dammit.