Tales from the Diaper Bag



Pregnant, Hormonal Rage-Monster Hits the Road!

I just got back from a weekend at my parents house– my last trip home before la bambina. It was a bitter-sweet trip. I was glad to get to see my parents and hang out with them but I was sad knowing that I won’t be back this Christmas (I’ll be well into the no-fly zone of my pregnancy). Anyhow, the trip went really well, except that the annoyances of air travel kept triggering my new, hormone-induced rage monster.

As long as I’ve been old enough to fly, I suspected that only lobotomy patients flew on the days that I flew. Every time I go to the airport, I find myself standing or sitting next to people who have NO IDEA where they’re going and what they’re doing there. The people who want to check 6 bags. Or who don’t carry any form of photo ID. Or who try to go through the metal detector wearing more jewelry than Mr. T. Those people.

Today did not break my bad travel karma, even though I started the day off so hopeful! I didn’t check a bag (no check-in hassle) and I was at an airport that had three different security lines, which I thought would cut down on the idiot factor for that portion of my day. One of the security lines was for families (read: people with huge carry-on bags and strollers), one for casual travelers and one for expert travelers (business people). But of course, no one read and/or complied with the signs.  Here’s a tip guys- if you’re absolutely baffled by the moving sidewalk leading to the terminal, you are NOT what the airlines consider an expert traveler.

I got in the “casual traveler” line and–of course–was behind some guy who may have never flown in his life. I waited for several minutes while he first refused to take off his shoes and jacket and then refused to allow his belongings (aka: a large garbage bag) from going through the x-ray machine while he peered into it (what was the mystery he was trying to uncover, I wonder) until FINALLY the TSA guy told him to knock it off.  What really made me crazy was when his cell phone rang during this ordeal and HE TOOK THE CALL. Yup, he stood there and chatted while we all stood behind him, wishing death on him and all his kin. Argh! At this point- my inner rage-monster was seething.

Other minor annoyances: In the terminal, I got behind a woman at the cafe who paid for her lunch in pennies nickles, and dimes. At the gate, a couple sat down next to me with their 4/5 year old kid who they allowed to run around and beat the tar out of my chair, my bag, and my arm (hey- it was in the way) and only gave me the “Awwww, isn’t he adorable and precocious?” face. My answer to them: “No. Your devil spawn’s lack of social graces isn’t a sign of his intelligence. It’s a sign that you’re crappy parents.” Inner rage monster status at this point: slow-boil rage. 

On the plane, it wasn’t much better. I should have known that the guy beside me was trouble when he claimed my armrest. What cemented his reputation as an object of my loathing was when the steward announced that someone on board had a peanut allergy and that we needed to refrain from eating products containing nuts so, you know, that person didn’t collapse and die at 30,000 feet. I swear to God, the guy pulled out a pack of Peanut M&Ms and chowed down. Me, the guy on the other side of him, and the people behind is all gave him the “What is your problem?!” face. To no avail. He actually made eye contact with me in mid-chew as if daring me to say something. . . which I did not do. The dude was huge, I was pregnant and traveling solo and I’m sort of a wimp.  It was pretty much the low-point of my flight, what with me dealing with a dangerously thoughtless moron next to me AND my guilt at not telling him where he could really stuff those M&Ms.  By the time I got off the plane, my inner rage-monster was ready to be an outer screaming, raging reason to call airport security.

But thankfully I’m done with the air travel for the next six months. Phew! I don’t think it’s good for the zen-like calm that I’m trying to cultivate during my pregnancy.

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  1. Babymoon « Tales from the Diaper Bag pingbacked on 9 years ago

Comments

  1. * Anna says:

    lol – i love angry Arista. Is it bad that i’m the same way at the airport but minus the pregnancy?

    | Reply Posted 9 years ago


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