You can know anything. It's all there. You just have to find it.

-Neil Gaiman


Friday, December 2, 2011

Everything's bigger in Texas

Well, we survived our Thanksgiving trip down to Forth Worth, TX.  First time on a plane with a toddler, and man, I was dreading it.  That's the best part about having an overactive, morbid imagination.  Things are almost never that bad, and, if they are, they make medication for that.  It's called vodka.

Anyway, even though we were up before dawn and on the first plane out of Minneapolis, Sena did really well.  Minimal screaming and wiggling, and was easily amused by the in-flight catalog of completely useless crap that no one ever buys, to the barf bags, and vaguely calm and orderly drawings of what to do when your plane crashes.  I don't think the artist was using their imagination when they were commissioned to do the project.

Who really is calm when the oxygen masks fall out of the overhead bin?

Does anyone ever know how to use their seat as a flotation device?

Honestly, have you ever tried to climb through a smoke-filled fuselage with your gigantic flotation device while other people are screaming and clawing their way over seat backs and aisles that are narrow enough to trap small rodents?

No?  Me, either.

But I don't think the drawings I would make would look like that.

I believe in truth in advertising.  But no airline would ever publish and laminate my artwork to be perused by a half-drunk acrophobe while the plane is taxiing down the runway.

I tell this to Matt, but he pretend to ignore me.

I ask him, "Quick, don't look, but tell me how many rows we are from the emergency exit?"

Matt thinks.  "Umm... Six?"

"Wrong.  Four.  You're dead."


"You think you can see in a crash?  Dude, you have to count the seat backs with your hand so you know how far away you are from the door."

"What's wrong with you?"


We are quiet for a while.

Then:  "Do you know you can fart really loud in your seat and no one will hear it?"

"Yeah, but they might smell it."

"That's what the baby is for.  You can always blame a baby."

"What happens once she doesn't wear a diaper anymore?"

"Then I just go back to blaming you."

I promise the next post will be about our actual trip to Texas.  Sort of.


Christina Rodriguez said...

Boring emergency instructions can always be blamed on the art director. We should print our own horrific versions and leave them in the seats!

Mindy said...

Someday I'm going to take a sharpie and "edit" the emergency instructions. There will be flames and smoke and flailing of limbs. Because people should be prepared.