The Infant Boarding Pass Incident

• August 19, 2021
• Parenting, Travel

Air travel.

The words alone are enough to send most of us running to the medicine cabinet for antacids. Endless lines in tight turn styles, hasty cancellations and delays, bathrooms so small they’d make a hobbit blush —and that was before the pandemic. Masking mandates and a year plus of rebooked trip backlog have fanned the flames on an already ferocious frenzy.

Too many f-words? Tell that to the woman in front of us. She’s letting expletives fly like a four-letter word thesaurus with a luggage cart. Our goal to check-in quickly at a kiosk thwarted, we end up in line behind someone trying to check, count them, six large suitcases plus a (gorgeous, mind you) Louis Vuitton duffle.

We learned the hard way you can’t check-in at kiosk with an infant unless you have your passport or government issued ID or probably a DNA sample. You have to line-up behind someone who is clearly not just traveling, but moving. A person relocating her existence upset for mistaking Delta for UHaul.

The poor agent behind the counter. I’m not Catholic but start praying Hail Mary’s and visualizing still waters. She receives an earful. And a face full. And many-an-arm gesture. She keeps calmly trying to explain the luggage far exceeds the allotted weight, and that if the woman wants to check bags, she’ll have to consolidate.

It’s to no avail.

The woman’s arms are now flailing like she’s conducting a heavy metal symphony; Louis Vuitton clinging for dear life.

Meanwhile, we have an antsy toddler and bewildered newborn staring at the flags on the ceiling like she’s wondering how her crib mobile became so massive. The clock is ticking, our flight is boarding, and the last thing we want to do is spend the day convincing our kids the airport is Disney Land.

We’re in that less than an hour before take off zone, that free for all where somehow airlines have the right to say ah-ah- ah not so fast, Rick Steves, you’re too late. An airline saying you should of been more prompt is kind of like a serial killer saying you shouldn’t jaywalk. While it may be true, the source makes for weak argument.

My wife and I look at each other, and through face masked mind code say, “we’re doomed.”

Suddenly, we hear a sweet voice from above. Well, from the left, but it sounds so angelic it may as well be from heaven.

“Is anyone here on the flight to Detroit?”

Yes, sweet spirit, yes we are. And all we want is to give this first-time flyer her wings. Can I get an Amen?

An Amen we do receiveth. With the determination and dexterity of salmon swimming up river to spawn, this gentleman takes my driver’s license, nearly hurdles over luggage cart woman, and triumphantly returns with the golden ticket. I’ve never wanted to kiss a mask more. I abstain, Covid and all.

We make it through security and on our plane just in time. The flight takes off moments later. We exhale for the first time in an hour.

Travel angels. They exist. Look for them as you roam planet earth and/or Michigan.

They take many different forms, but their mission is the same: to ease your way, weary traveler, and to inspire you to look for opportunities to return the favor to someone in need.

How much better the airport, and the world for that matter would be, if we all tuned in to helping each other ease the way.

Go forth in confidence, quench that wonder lust, take all precautions, and for the love of all things good, leave the sixth suitcase behind.