Last Friday I was getting onto a trans-Atlantic flight with my now 13-month-old daughter. Evidently, the way to part a crowd at an airport gate is to carry said child toward the gate agent. Those folks parted like the Red Sea. You could feel them cringe as they spotted the ONE and ONLY baby on the flight. They all then began praying the rosary, or so it seemed, that we were not seated anywhere near them. Perhaps there was a grave error and we were miraculously on some OTHER flight…anywhere else, in fact!
When we got on the plane (after boarding before the regular lemmings — thank God for some benes, but after the bigshots and big spenders) I casually mentioned to the man behind us that I’d had her volume switch removed prior to boarding and therefore the flight was destined to be a quiet one. Well, this child was a doll and didn’t bother a soul for NINE, count ’em, NINE hours. She did finally decide to sleep about 40 minutes from landing, bless her little active heart, but otherwise enchanted most of coach. What a trooper!