Flying High

Although Noah had clocked more flight hours than most babies by the age of 5 months with a return trip from Los Angeles to Australia and then onto New York, I was still anxious recently about flying with him as a 9 month old. Even if it was only on a 5 hour flight to Los Angeles.

First of all, he is a lot more "robust", as my husband puts it, than he was at 3 or 5 months old. In fact, he is most happy at the moment when he is holding our hands and walking, and frequently stubbornly refuses to sit down, stiffening his body and refusing to bend or budge. Not to mention his ever increasing abilities to get into mischief - whether that be toys in the toilet bowl, sucking on his stroller tyres or our shoes, or pulling books off the bookshelf. This is a vastly different child to the barely-rolling baby we took to Australia in March and back again in May.

Then, there is the fact that we are now flying on "our own coin", and hence have been booted back into "cattle-class". Gone are the luxuries of business-class, which seem so much more valuable with a baby on board. No business-class lounge to change nappies in before boarding. No sky-bed to recline and rest peacefully on. No extra leg room for all the paraphenalia that comes aboard with us now - nappies, and wipes, and nappy bags, and burp clothes, and changes of clothes and toys, and baby snacks, and bibs, and spoons, and sippy cups. Instead we were fighting it out with the rest of the plane to snag a small spot in the overhead locker and stuff the overflow under our seats.

Not to mention the small detail that I was flying by myself with him home from Los Angeles. There was no husband to alternate holding him with or entertaining him with. No husband to hold him whilst I make a trip to the restroom. No husband to rest against whilst 20 pounds of baby sleeps on my chest for an hour.

I was fearing the worst. It was just me. Or so I thought.

It turned out that the other passengers, whether by their own choosing or not, provided no end of entertainment for Noah on the 5 hour flight back from LA. First it was the cabin crew who walked up and down the aisles helping passengers stuff their oversized cases into the overhead compartments: "Oh, he's so smiley!" And Noah would squeal and smile and delight them. Word passed around and soon we had crew members stopping by our seats saying, "I heard about this little guy! Hi there cutey!" To which Noah squealed some more and delighted them again.

After take-off I was disappointed that Noah did not go to sleep. Instead he entertained the 10-15 passengers who were cueing for the restroom by our seat. There was much clapping and waving and squealing. Noah found the rotation of new faces every couple of minutes constantly entertaining, and may have been enthralled with this new game for the rest of the trip had we not hit turbulance and thus ended the bathroom congo-line.

So Noah had to turn his attention to the 3 young women sitting across the aisle from us. The mandatory cooing and squealing and clapping commenced, as well as a game of peek-a-boo. Then when their attention began to wane, Noah began a new game. Throwing whatever he could lay his little hands on in their general direction. Sippy cup, magazine, spew bag (unused of course), toys, Mummy's shoes. Anything. And they obligingly picked up each item and passed it back to him with a smile and a giggle about "how cute" he was.

Then there was the 4 year old boy in front of us, who was more than happy to accommodate Noah's game of peek-a-boo (even if his parents tried to discourage it) and the young couple behind us who laughed whenever Noah peeked through the gap in the seats at them.

Yes, Noah was thoroughly entertained and exceedingly well behaved for the entire trip. I did manage to get him to sleep for an hour and a half after lunch and the flight crew were more than happy to hold him whilst I visited the restroom. I managed to eat a sandwich one handed whilst Noah slept and only spilled sauce on myself once. Noah had a little spit-up, but nothing a couple of Curash wipes couldn't fix. I was exhausted, but pleasantly surprised at how the flight went overall. The only passenger who managed to resist Noah's charms was the young man who sat directly next to us. Maybe it was just too close quarters for him to acknowledge there was a little boy sitting next to him for 5 hours who did his absolute best to get his attention, and frequently looked forlornly at his mother wondering, "Mummy, what is wrong with this man? He doesn't ever smile or look at me, no matter what I do?"