Baby Aboard If Passengers Don’t Appreciate The Company Of This Mom’s Child On A Plane, They’re Just Going To Have To Get Over It

One of the best things about airplane travel with a young child is that, if at all possible, other passengers will move as far away as possible, sometimes opting to sit in the overhead baggage compartments.

But other than that, it’s pretty much downhill from there.

I say this because baby Jack flies with me a lot, and it always reminds me of an incident which occurred years ago when I attended a big Los Angeles opening of a major play. During a crucial, poignant moment in the play, as the audience in the sold-out theater watched silently, I, unfortunately, got a massive case of the giggles.

I couldn’t help it. I covered my face with my hands, even tried thinking about death and injury, but the harder I tried to stifle myself, the more knee-slapping hysterical I became. The point is, you can’t imagine the angry, evil looks I got.

Unless, of course, you have a child that you take on the airplane. In that case, you can definitely imagine the nasty looks.

Frankly, it irritates me. I mean, it’s not like flying is such a pleasurable experience - what with the expansive leg room, the comfy seats, the gourmet meals - that my child and I ruin everybody’s delirious happiness just by our presence.

And besides, do you think it’s fun schlepping enough gear onto the plane that you’re dislocating both shoulders and walking like Quasimoto?

No, me either. Which is why I often take out my frustration on all the “gearless” people, who are so nicely settled in their seats and firing disgusting looks my way, by whacking them upside the head with a free-swinging diaper bag.

“Oh, gosh,” I say. “Did that silly diaper bag get you?”

And do you think it’s fun trying to ram a 3-foot long baby stroller into a 2-foot long overhead compartment? Especially when all the people without small children, who were supposed to wait, rudely boarded the plane ahead of me?

No, me neither. Which is why I don’t intervene when my baby plays four solid hours of peek-a-boo over the seat with them.

And do you think it’s fun trying to change a poopy diaper in one of those claustrophobic airline bathrooms?

No, me either. Which is why I have very stern talks with my son, before boarding all flights, about the absolute importance of avoiding mid-flight poops. “Remember, Mommy doesn’t like to fly in the first place,” I explain to him. “Mommy doesn’t want to stand in the nice little bathroom juggling Pampers, Baby Wipes, and poopy diapers while the nice captain is making the plane go bounce, bounce, bounce.”

And do you think it’s fun being thrown up on? No, me neither. Which is why I also travel with my husband. Because there was that time, and it only happened once, when Jack consumed approximately his own body weight in mini Ritz Bits, processed them for a while, then spewed all over my husband. Thank goodness, the highly trained flight attendants really pulled together to help us out, by locating three cocktail napkins.

And do you think it’s fun doing magic tricks with graham crackers for hours on end, singing the “Itsy-Bitsy Spider,” and making up stories to coincide with the pictures on the flight safety card?

“Oh, look, honey!” It must be Halloween! All the silly people are putting masks over their faces! And now they’re all going down a great big slide! Uh-oh! The plane must have had a boo-boo!”

Which is why, on our last flight, we figured out a way to break up the monotony while simultaneously responding to the grouch who kept giving us E.D.L. (Especially Dirty Looks), by realizing that a juice box can be converted into the sort of device that can douse people up to 7 feet away.

Of course, in addition to juice box fun, there are many other fun things about flying with a young child. I just can’t think what they are.