Two weekends ago, I took R with me to Saint Louis for a girls’ weekend. We met up with three college friends, two of whom each have a daughter they brought along. These were her 10th and 11th plane flights!
Now, I say that, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. At least three of her flights were due to cancellations that caused layovers and basically just terrible traveling experiences. I paid for half of this most recent trip with Southwest points. After 6 years of being a rewards member, I had earned enough for a one-way flight to Saint Louis, which is one of the cheapest tickets we can get out of OKC unless we want to go to Atlanta, which is randomly super cheap. Clearly I am not letting my rewards status work for me. Who are you people who pay for tickets to Europe with miles? Don’t talk to me.
R was, as usual, such a fun traveling companion, and she did great on both flights! On our way there, the plane was only half full and we got an entire row to ourselves. Apparently after nine flights I’ve gotten so casual about flying with a baby that I didn’t feel the need (read: I forgot) to pack any extra clothes, pacifiers, wipes, or burp rags in my carry-on. But I had snacks! Thankfully she didn’t need a diaper change or have a poop explosion, or I would have had a really awesome story to share on the blog about how I borrowed an airplane blanket to use as a diaper.
I made sure to be better prepared for the flight home, which was good because it was a full flight and I had to sit next to a young twenty-something wearing a black dress, thick gray tights, and combat boots who I could tell was very excited about sharing a row with a baby. Seriously, R was giving her all the cute smiles she had and all we got were blank stares in return before Twenty-Something pulled the hood of her jacket over her eyes and passed out on the tray table. Kids these days.
While the flight attendant was telling us all about oxygen masks and using our seats as flotation devices for our emergency water landing between Oklahoma and Missouri, I started to smell something bad. I did a quick check and realized that poop was *this close* to coming out the side of R’s diaper. I quickly grabbed a diaper and wipes and ran down the aisle toward the bathroom at the front of the plane.
The flight attendant told me to be quick because we were about to take off. R did not like the tiny airplane changing table and instantly let me know about it. I was so flustered that I completely ripped off the tab of the fresh diaper and had no choice but to hold the side down and push her pants back on.
We got side-eyed by every single person on the plane as we made our way back to Row 22. While getting back in the seat, R wacked Twenty-Something in the head with her foot and then pulled hard on her blonde braid, forever dooming our otherwise budding friendship.
Thankfully, that was the most exciting part of the trip. R fell asleep within seconds of the plane lifting off the ground and didn’t wake up until our bumpy landing an hour and a half later. Side note: my ears didn’t pop until three days later, so that was fun. People had to keep telling me not to shout because I basically couldn’t hear anything.
We didn’t do much in Saint Louis, just hung out at my friend’s house, drank wine, ate brownies and ice cream, and had some much-needed girl time. Since graduating from college we’ve all gotten together three times: Minneapolis, Chicago, and now Saint Louis. I told the girls that it’s my turn next because I’ve been to all of their homes and now they need to come to me! Hopefully we can make it happen sooner rather than later.