I wanted to write a funny, slightly sarcastic post about transcontinental flights with children. I’d describe all my intense pre-flight preparations, my santa’s-sack of toys and snacks, the opprobrium of that one inevitable fellow traveler who hates children, the lovely flight attendant who saved the day … something like that.
Instead, through no labor of my own, we had a wonderful flight. Miraculous. So fantastic, I’m afraid to write about it, because you all will despise me. The kids carried their own luggage, and were eager to go. TSA high-fived the children as they walked through security. We got to wait in the Red Carpet lounge and stuff ourselves with snacks and drinks (wine for me, thanks) before the flight. We strolled up to the gate and were immediately allowed to board the plane. And our seats were upgraded. To business class. Which is so far removed from coach it is like flying in another plane. The seats recline — in to beds. Beds! I had steak for dinner. And more wine. The kids had seconds of ice cream. Everyone smiled at them and told them were cute, and pulled me aside to compliment me on my fabulous and well behaved children. And I was like “Yup! Pass me another glass of wine, will ya?”
So the next time anyone asks me about traveling with children, I’ll have to say: “Make a wish on your fairy godmother’s big round pumpkin and hope for a trip like this one.”