We arrived at the airport with what turned out to be plenty of time, thanks to Debby, Ben, and Ryann. They rode with us and then took the car back home. That way I was able to go straight to the gate and ask about the kids. The gal couldn’t have been more nice. She had to lean over the counter to locate Juby with hers eyes and right away she said, “Oh my. Don’t worry, we’ll get you right next to each other.” A huge weight lifted off me in that moment. Keep in mind, I would nearly have needed a sedative if NOTHING had gone wrong that morning, simply because I hate flying.
Next, I fed the girls lunch. (We had to try something new, Wendy’s, which is always tricky with Juby.) All the while, we were talking about the plane. How it sounds and feels, rules to obey, etc. I am pretty proud of myself for that. The entire morning I was preparing them and myself for the worst. “If mommy can’t sit with you . . .” Looking back, I should have taken my cues from the girls. No arguments of any kind were heard that morning. Juby gobbled her lunch, no complaints. She pronounced, “Mommy, that was great! Can we eat at Wendy’s every day?”
Flight number one went awesome. Girls loved every minute. They played quietly with their books and colored. We even took a short nap. Yet we were all tired when we landed in Houston. Ugh. Talk about humidity. That airport is the biggest, craziest airport I have ever been in. We were exhausted by the time we reached our connecting gate. The girls’ legs couldn’t have made it any further. We had to stop twice as it was just to get there. The person at the gate desk was not so accommodating this time. She looked at me like I was crazy for even suggesting that I sit with my daughters. She “supposedly” made some changes that would “make it easier” to switch seats later. The rational side of my brain told me that this was the short flight, and the girls kind of knew what to do. The rest of my brain told me to punch the gal in the face.
Three hours later, we boarded. Juby’s seat was the closest to the front, so I had to drop her off first. I looked apologetically at the younger guy and the super old guy she was seated between. I told them I was going to try and change seats, but that I had another child to seat first. Immediately the young guy offered to switch, along with the woman behind him. I simply repeated that I needed to settle my other daughter first and that I would be right back. Well, Sophie’s seat was only 4 rows behind mine, and again, several people offered to switch. Within 5 minutes she was by the window in my same row. While she was moving, everyone around me had kind of joined in the conversation about how awful it was that an airline would even allow these tiny children to sit away from me. Especially, I said, because my youngest is terribly, almost painfully shy and terrified of strangers. They started getting a bit outraged, to be honest, but it was oddly unifying. It was the least alone I had felt since being in Oregon. We all pulled together and were chatting like old friends when, from the front of the plane, a very loud Juby-like voice could be heard, talking to someone. I stopped and listened. So did all the people around me. I had to do a mental double-take. The lady in front of me said, “Is that your daughter up there? Guess she’s not so shy anymore.” Another gal on the other side of the aisle said, “Looks like you lost your little wallflower today!” I couldn’t believe it. Slowly I walked back up to where Juby sat between the two men. She had wrapped her legs up underneath her, criss-cross applesauce style, and looked happy as a clam. She was speaking with more volume and animation than I had witnessed the entire day, and it actually took a few moments to even get her attention. “Juby, there is an empty seat next to Mama, and Sophie is on the other side! Do you want to come with me now?” Juby placed her index finger to her bottom lip and tapped it, like she was thinking it over really hard. “Hmmmmm. Let me think. (Tap tap. Long pause. Everyone is leaning forward in their seats to hear how this will turn out.) No! I want to stay here with my new friends!” I was shocked and amazed. Truly, I had no reference from past behavior to qualify what I had just heard. Everyone laughed uproariously. I couldn’t help smiling. I asked the young guy if it was ok and he smiled , too. “It’s a short flight, she’ll be fine.” “But will you?” I asked. I walked back to my seat and broke the news to Sophie that Juby didn’t need us. We laughed about it.
For the rest of that flight Juby was almost annoyingly loud, clearly enjoying her place in life. I had to yell at her once, from the middle of the plane, “Juby! Hush now. Listen to the safety announcements!” Again, everyone laughed. It was like a sitcom.
Just before landing I went up and got Juby, thanking the nice men for putting up with her. We landed and were preparing to get off when Juby asked, “But how will I say goodbye to my new boyfriends?” I lifted her up onto the seat and pointed to where the men stood. She called out “Goodbye friends!” at the top of her lungs. They waved.
And so began our arrival to Austin.
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