I forgot to share a funny story with all of you from our trip to Indianapolis. Our first plane left San Diego around 9 am, so we got to the airport around 7:30 and after going through security, I was in need of some coffee. I got a ridiculously expensive latte and we waited for the plane. Elijah fell asleep and about an hour into the flight I realized that traveling by myself with Elijah would make it nearly impossible to use the lavatory while on the plane. I didn't think of that while drinking my overpriced latte and there was still an hour an a half left of our flight, not to mention a sleeping baby on my lap. I suppose I could have asked someone to hold him while I went to the bathroom, I mean really, it's not like they can run off with him on a plane, but I felt awkward doing that, so I held it.
As we are starting our descent into Denver, I notice a distincitve smell coming from my little one's diaper. Yep, Elijah decides that is the perfect time to drop a load in his diaper. Being as we are making our descent, I'm not allowed to leave my seat and change his diaper. Not that I would want to because I'm pretty sure turbulence and dirty diapers don't mix.
So we finally land, Elijah is hungry and poopy and I have to pee like you would not believe so I high-tail it to the ladies room. The first stall in the bathroom is, thank God, a handicap stall so I wheel the stroller in so I can finally relieve myself. As I am sitting there, with my pants around my ankles, the stall door is apparently not latched properly and the door swings open! Hi world, I'm peeing and yes, that's my crying, poop-smelling baby next to me! I have to manuver some sort of squatting shuffle to avoid showing the whole world my hoo-ha while also not mooning them or dripping urine all over myself and doing so with superior speed so as not to attract even more attention to myself.
Needless to say, from that point on in my travels, I
a) made sure to use the facilities before boarding the plane and
b) found the family bathrooms at the airport, even if that means walking 3 miles to the other end of the terminal.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
That is hilarious. I have a similar story that involves too much Starbucks, a flight to San Franscico, changing a poopy diaper on the plane, using the airplane bathroom with said infant on lap and diaper bag, said infant freaking out/crying from the flush and a line of eagerly awaiting other passengers who looked thoroughly annoyed that I took so long. Must not be mothers....
Post a Comment