Something cool happened on our flight back from vacation.
As we were settling into our seats I noticed a flight attendant speaking to some folks ahead of us. Mary (I got her name later) was playing a game of musical chairs with passengers. She was trying to get a mother with an infant some extra room. She moved a man from a middle seat up to an exit row so the mom could have more space for baby. Mom was very appreciative and the other guy wasn't complaining about the extra leg room either.
I thanked Mary for what she did for that mom. As a dad, I know how important a switched seat can be to a family. After this blog I'm going to fill out a comment card too. Mary deserves some recognition.
Because, as we learned on the flight down to North Carolina, there isn't a Mary on every flight.
"We have a lot of brats on board this flight," the guy said.
I didn't hear it, but Julianna caught his comment as we filed into the plane bound for the beach.
What a nice welcome from Michael, a guy who turned out to be the lead flight attendant on our trip from Minneapolis to Raleigh. Seriously. The man who sets the tone for the rest of the crew is calling the kids "brats" before we've even pushed back from the gate.
I've really grown to dislike flying. This guy's attitude is one of the main reasons.
We try our darndest to keep the kids in line from the ticket counter all the way through to baggage claim. We stockpile art supplies. We pack extra snacks (because we don't even get the free pretzels anymore.) We bring blankets and teddy bears to suggest a flight-long nap. Whatever it takes to keep the little ones from creating big problems, we try it. Most of the time we succeed. So do most of the families we've encountered on recent flights.
In the end, my kids, and all the other little monsters on the flight from Minnesota to North Carolina, were model travelers.
Turns out the only brat on the flight was Michael, the lead flight attendant.
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