I am late writing about this -- and most everything else -- because life just seems to get in the way. In any case, went to Florida for Thanksgiving. I learned a few things along the way and felt necessary to give everyone a glimpse into the absolute HELL that was our plane ride to Ft. Myers.
I should mention that just prior, my husband had the flu really bad. He said he has never felt so terrible. Luckily he was on the mend by turkey week. Our in-laws were kind enough to book us an entire row on Jet Blue to Florida so we would have the space we needed. We thought we were totally prepared but that is just never possible.
We got to the airport way too early and all the girls wanted to do was run around. They were going up to people and trying to take their snacks and water bottles. It was a workout trying to keep up with them. Plus we had some carry on bags, despite our attempts to ship everything, as well as the two car seats bungee corded to a pull cart (that I forgot to get until the night before and went to four places before finding it!). I was so happy my friend told me to get the cart because without it we would have been more screwed then we already were.
We got on the plane late because my husband decided last minute he wanted food, so all the old people jumped the line and for some reason having twins and being visibly disorganized didn't get us any sympathy. We boarded the plane with the kids and the two Britax car seats bungeed to our little dolly cart. The stupid cart got stuck in the aisle and I was yanking it to get it down to row 18. The babies began to whine and we began to sweat. Finally the air marshall jumped out of his seat to help. Bless him, for real. He was awesome. He helped us get the seats in and get out of the way of all the grandmas and grandpas going down to Florida.
We got situated and I longed for the days of kicking back, taking a nap and waking up in the sunshine. But the girls wanted nothing to do with their car seats, the plane, or any of the books and toys we bought specifically for the trip. Before we even taxied down the runway, I was looking for some sort of child-friendly sedative.
The drink cart couldn't have come sooner. I was ready to explode. I was walking up and down the aisles holding one of my daughters who was having a full blown temper tantrum and was way overdue for a nap. Everyone was staring at us and some nice mothers offered toys and other distractions to try and make her happy. I went to the back of the plane near the bathrooms to try and get the screaming child away from all the other passengers, but it was no use.
I was standing there with the two flight attendants and guy looked at me and said, "You totally should have waited another year or two to fly." I wanted to punch him in the face. That's the worst thing to say considering we are already thousands of miles up in the air over the Atlantic Ocean. I looked at the other man and begged him to tell me we were at least halfway there, but he just shook his head.
I then went back to our seats and my daughter was still hysterical. The biggest mistake I made was taking her out of her seat (lesson learned). My husband then looks over at me (the twin he is watching is happily watching TV with her pacifier) and suggests I take screaming twin and go sit in the bathroom.
Seriously, he had to be joking? No, he wasn't. The person in front of us told him he was just "asking for a divorce" with that suggestion. At that moment, my beer must have kicked in and I had forced my daughter back into her chair. I looked at the Live Map channel on Jet Blue and saw that the little plane was finally positioned over Florida.
"We're in Florida!," I yelled to my husband.
"We're still married?" he replied with a smile.
I knew we were going to make it. I was sweating, but there was hope and the palm trees and sunshine were in reach. I looked over and my daughter had finally closed her eyes and fallen asleep with about 30 minutes to go in the trip. I began to wonder if we should drive back?
