Baby On Plane

There is one thing that used to annoy me more than anything else in the world. Babies on plane. Nightmare! Having my seat contaminated with a baby, within a proximity of less than four rows, used to send shivers down my spine. I accept a lot on planes, peanuts, cold hotdogs, rude staff, drunks and snorers… snakes even – anything but a baby.

It does not matter where the baby is sat, as soon as you sit down, they find a way to interrupt your journey. The kicking, the dribbling, the staring, accompanied by screams and cries and a bunch of stupid questions, are all very carefully designed arms of mass destruction. And they are all directed at YOU.

What can you do? You can roll your eyes. You can give the Mother a disapproving look, or consult quietly with other passengers. Nothing helps. You can complain to the stewardess, although... just one look at her warns you off. She is ignoring you, turning away every time you want to speak to her. You know that she knows what you are about to do. She can too hear the baby. Oh yes, everybody can. But what do you want her to do about it? Risk an argument with another customer? Put the baby in the toilet and lock the door? Swap places with you?

And so the bullying continues and murderous thoughts start forming in your head. Within half an hour your imagination takes you to dark and sinful places. Every technique, every minute, every move carefully planned and accounted for. First the Mother, then the baby.

Oh, the Mother! She is the worst! How rude and inconsiderate? Just sitting there doing absolutely nothing. Bluntly ignoring your pain and discomfort. Useless woman, fat and brainless. If it was your child, it would not behave like this. You would know exactly what to do. You would show her, this dirty scrap of humanity. What a waste. Not even a word, not a shush.

…

The boarding pass in my hand is burning my fingers… Mother and infant, seat 7A. My hands are trembling and I almost shit myself. I go through every scenario, they are all black. He will cry, I am certain. He will be tired, His ears will pop, He will be scared. His distress raising my own anxieties. My stress, increasing His, the tension and trauma feeding of each other. The whole plane is going to hate us.

…

So, dear fellow passenger, if it happens that I am on your plane, with my baby, and His crying is driving you insane, just think how I feel. Just think, that not only my ears are aching, my head wants to explode, my nerves are on ends but also my heart is breaking, because my baby is unhappy and suffering. And when you will get off in two hours’ time, I will spend the next eighteen years apologising for His behaviour. I am not asking for you to understand, or to sympathise. I am simply asking for you to trust me that I am doing my best. And if you absolutely must turn around to give me a dirty look, give me a smile instead. I will try so much harder.