The journey to the land down under, that is right- we are going to Australia!!!, could have been smoother.
Our short flight to the connecting one taking us to Sydney has been cancelled last minute (why, oh why? They can hardly blame the weather…so it must be technical difficulties…or some sort of strike). Hubby heads out to find out what is going on while I’m left with the driver and two sick kids in the car (did I mention that I’m also sick). Our son has been “fever-free” for over 48 hours now and baby girl for over the “required” 24 but they still cough and wheeze. What a terrific way to start a vacation…and trust me they couldn’t be less excited…
Before I know it, the driver starts driving, making me put my crying baby back in her car seat, strapping her in in record time (hey, thanks for the heads up). I don’t even get to ask before her parks by “arrivals” instead of the departure terminal and start unloading our luggage (quite the job).
I’m so confused, what are we doing here. I wasn’t even aware that our flight was canceled until about 8 minutes ago when my husband called to tell the driver- since then no update. Why wouldn’t he call me? His wife. He knew I made the last minute decision to bring my phone after all. Now I see him running to help the driver with our bags as I feel trapped in between the two car seats and two loudly crying little ones in a “sick bubble” unable to even open the car door due to the child safety locks of the backseat.
I feel a little lost to say the least. I have this (maybe annoying to some) habit if wanting to know what’s going on at all times and wanting to know what’s going to happen next (it’s the planner in me) and I feel like I NEED to know what’s up (especially when my kids are involved).
We are being rushed over to an old airport shuttle and before I can ask my husband what’s going on, a perky flight attendance (with way lips way too red) starts putting baby’s car seat in. “Hey” I want to scream- “don’t touch that…what the H is going on?” Of course I don’t, but I try to signal my man over as he is now busy hauling our luggage into the shuttle.
I draw the line when as we are all settled in- just waiting for ten more people flying to Japan, our son (who has only been fully potty trained for less than six months and you still have to remind to go) requests the bathroom- and gets denied by miss red lips. She is actually (for real) suggesting that “he’ll hold it” for the two hour plus ride to the next airport. Oh H no, no, no, no
“Why are we in this shuttle, we are going where? How come nobody told ME this major change of plans? let us out to use the bathroom now!!!”
We somehow make it to the next airport but unlike the people going to Japan we don’t have the luxury of time and oh yeah- we have two sick kids, car seats, strollers, diaper bags, suitcases- yeah okay you get it…
So we run…and husband forgets one of our carry-ons in the shuttle and has to run after the leaving van, while I wait at the curb with the kids and all our stuff (so much stuff) coughing and I must say having a private little pity party (table for one).
Ones inside I’m unable to nurse my starving devastated baby, who was so good sleeping during the whole car ride, because we have to stand in line. A long line. When it’s finally our turn, the heavy, stern woman behind the counter tells us that we have been waiting in the wrong line. With less than an hour before our flight to Australia is scheduled to depart this is as you can see, slightly frustrating.
Three lines later, with our kids only getting louder at the same rate as my husband’s complains and my annoyance at an all-time high- they tell us to follow one of their flight staff as he runs us past all the lines in a rush to actually catch our flight. I don’t think we’ll get another one without paying for it, and obviously there is not another flight until tomorrow night anyways. He gets us all the way to security and even helps us make sure we get all our stuff (which I appreciate) and follow all procedure. The nice thing with a breastfeeding infant is that we don’t have a bunch of bottles and formula to get scanned and explained. Things are starting to look up and we are getting hopeful. Everybody gets the “all clear” and thumbs up as we walk through the metal detector but since I’m holding the baby they swipe my hands with something. And I don’t “pass”…and without explanation I’m being detained…
Not a great start to our great trip!