Chucky Lives in Sarasota
I’m at the point in my life where I’ve started to question everything, my mind offers a silent “WTF” as often as a 3 year old asks “why?”. If you flew anywhere in the east coast of the US yesterday then you were victim of an FAA software glitch that prevented flight plans from getting filed. In combination with the remaining shards of the nearly defunct tropical storm Fay, it took me 7 hours to fly back from Sarasota yesterday. The Sarasota airport is this sad little regional airport existing only so that the old people who live there full time and the snow birds who don’t, stay off I75 and the Sunshine Skyway bridge thereby keeping them from Tampa International Airport and the gazillion flights to and from New York and Canada. This is why they were 10-deep in line at the airport’s only Starbucks, yammering about the cost of a $5 latte. Newsflash Gramps: you know you’re on a fixed income, move aside.
My punishments from unkind acts too numerous to list here was to be seated on a regional jet in the row next to the lavatory where the only row behind me was occupied by a man, his wife and their two year old child that I quickly nicknamed “Chucky”. His actual name was “Zane” (must remember to do a blog on sucky names). Chucky screamed, and I mean screamed as though HE were the one being tortured and not ME for having to listen to him for the duration of the 1 hour flight and 1 hour circling the Charlotte Airport waiting for either the FAA to fix their software glitch or for Fay to drop a few more wind shards.
Chucky: I WANT TO WALLLLLKKKKKKKK
Mommy: (in grating sugary voice) “Zane-y, no honey you can’t walk on the plane”
Chucky: I WANT TO WALLLLLLLKKKKKK. (His kicks on my seat feel like Riverdance).
Me: (in my head) WTF.
Chucky:, his screams taking on a rhythm , ahhhhhhhhhhh, ah, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, ahhhhhhhhhhh, ah, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I WANT TO WALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK.
Mommy: (still in sugary voice) “Zane-y, do you want to listen to Mommy’s iPod?”
Chucke: NNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I WANT TO WALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLKKKKKKKKKKKK.
Me: (in my head) If I pull the emergency handle on the exit door will that crash the plane? How much is the fine or is it mandatory stint in the pokey?
And so it went until we landed in Charlotte where, not surprisingly, I’d missed my connecting flight (and therefore my seat in First Class).
Children belong either strapped to the wing with a bungee cord or in the cargo hold. At least until they’re old enough to carry on a conversation or help me with Sudoku.
Aw….I was stuck in that nightmare East Coast plane stop as well. I was in one of the first planes affected at BWI. Great fun…