Dear self. Remember all those times you were in the airport, chillin', all single & carrying on; free and what not? You were on your way to someplace new, or old (it didn't matter, you were boarding a flight!) - oh the excitement. Remember standing there doing last-minute prayers like, "God, I know I just packed 82 minutes ago, and barely made it here on time, but please don't let me have forgotten anything majorly important." The crazy part is, that prayer usually comes before the, "Oh, and God, please let me make it there safe, and have a pilot that's not feeling suicidal today" prayer. And last but not least, "Sweet baby Jesus, please let me have all the chargers I need to keep me occupied for the next x amount of hours." After those quick prayers and a quick restroom run, you were feeling like a champ!
Remember coming back from the bathroom, just in time to hear them call for the old folks and families (that may need extra assistance) to board the plane? Remember glancing over, seeing the family with the baby and raucous little kids boarding the flight?
Remember getting that feeling in your chest like, what are the odds of those little crumb snatchers being anywhere in breathing distance of me? Remember standing there waiting to board rehearsing your lines just in case, like, "mam/sir, your kid is kicking my seat... handle that... expeditiously..." Remember practicing what "look" you were going to give them as you turned around in your seat like, "flip that damn tray down one more time!"
Remember sizing up everyone as they walked by your seat like, "Sit here if you want, but I'm definitely going to out elbow you for this armrest grandma..." or "I promise, if you're smelly, I'm telling the flight attendant ASAP" or "hey, you look waaaay too chipper; you see my body language? Don't think about engaging in a conversation that lasts more than a few complimentary 'we're about to share the same space for a few hours' niceties"
Well, I sit here humbly quarantined, at what only one can describe as "some ungodly hour at night/morning," wishing to hear someone else's little crumb snatcher act a plum fool, like, "f-it, it's not my problem; good luck!" What I wouldn't give to look at someone else's kid crazy again, as opposed to my own! Oh, and the aforementioned prime real estate known as the armrest? You can have it!
I just want to sit in MY seat, alone, and eat MY food, in peace, without having to share it. Dear self... hang in there, and never take the "inconveniences" of travel for granted again...
PS Dear lovely daughter of less than 2 years old. I really don't mind sharing my food with you. Technically, you can't really chew the best parts anyway, so jokes on you. I would, however, like to sit and enjoy the first 3 bites for myself though; maybe even a swig of water. I feel like the first 3 bites or minutes (the latter of the two) of eating should be in peace, as that's not asking for much. Anyway, the more I think about it, I'll probably regret this; in a few years you'll be eating everything in the fridge and that's going to be a problem... soooo, back to being humble I go. Love you, Dad.