Pure Insanity With a Touch of Grace

You are so brave!” commented a middle-aged woman as she admiringly looked on, as I was herding my brood through the gate at the Medford International Airport. I was traveling all alone with my three young kids. I think she was being rather tactful at her choice of words. She probably thought I was nuts. If she only knew how long our trip would be—a jaunt to San Francisco and then a 12 hour non-stop flight to Narita International Airport in Japan—she’d think I was insane.

We had arrived late (of course) to the airport. Nothing like a little drama before traveling—the anxiety of knowing you may miss your flight. There were long lines of eager passengers waiting to be checked in. I got in line with my 3 carts (yes, 3) stacked to the hilt with 6 oversized duffle bags and two large suitcases full of our (useful) junk and 2 car seats. This doesn’t include 7 pieces of carry-ons, a stroller, an infant car seat for Sissy (Autumn) and a small child carrier. It was very embarrassing to truck my cargo around. I could almost hear the incessant chatter in the minds of the people around me, as they gawked at my load of crap. It was one of those moments, that if you could, you would seize the opportunity to explain the predicament you were in. I felt like climbing to the top of the highest-peaked cart with mega-phone in hand, trying to convince everyone that I really didn’t have a hoarding problem, I didn’t normally travel like this, I was in fact moving, and that in order to save money on shipping costs, I took advantage of our luggage allotment.

The woman behind the counter was another story. I already knew I was cutting it close with the flight, but her never-ending remarks of, “you aren’t going to make the flight,” didn’t boost my confidence any. Finally getting our boarding tickets printed, she turned and looked at the 3 full carts. She stood there for a moment, staring at the carts. Throwing her hands in the air suddenly, she cried “I don’t think your going to make it.” I could hear my heart pounding loudly in my chest. I was on the verge of panic, but calmly, and slowly I said, “I really need to make this flight. Can’t we just try and get these bags checked?” I didn’t know how long she was holding her breath, but she exhaled loudly, and nodded in agreement and turned to her computer, punching frantically at the keys. I returned a sigh of relief.

I almost felt sorry for her when her supervisor came scurrying over seconds later and started shouting orders in her ear to get us on the plane. The only problem now was there were 5 bags that were over weight. Just what I needed, more delays as the two behind the counter were now trying to figure out a price to charge me. I had packed these bags for the international leg of the journey, which allowed up to 70lbs. United, the carrier for our hop to San Francisco, only allowed 50lbs. I immediately liked the supervisor when she waived $1200 worth of fees! Instead, I only needed to fork out a couple hundred.

With boarding tickets in hand, and the luggage successfully checked, my children and I dashed (as fast as one parent and three small children can go, which is more like slow as a snail) through security and onto the plane. We were in such a hurry to catch our flight, we weren't able to say a proper goodbye to my family (many thanks to them for their tremendous help and part in helping me and the kids make our flight).

We were the last ones on the plane—of course. Flanked by my children, I walked passed the stewardess who had already taken the position up front to demonstrate the safety features in the plane. I smiled weakly and apologized profusely for holding up the flight. She was a very nice person, and sincerely said not to worry. Our seats, all four, were waiting for us in the very back of the plane. I was very cowardly, and couldn’t look at any of the other passengers on the plane. After walking the long walk of shame, I got the boys seated, broke up a fight over the window seat, immediately took Sissy from her carrier—she was strapped to my back—and put her into the car seat. I plopped into my seat and fastened the belt. I took in a deep breath and said a thankful prayer! Our journey to Japan had begun.

The flight to San Francisco was uneventful. Thank goodness. I didn’t need anymore excitement as I was recovering from the drama right before boarding the plane. Even the kids were doing amazingly well after their short lived tussle over the envied window seat.

After we landed in San Francisco, I was greeted at the gate by a Japan Airlines agent who escorted me to the international terminal and to the airline’s counter. The kids and I would be flying on JAL for the last leg of our trip. It was so nice to have an extra hand!

I had read up a couple weeks prior to our flight about the family service the airline provided for individuals flying alone with children. It would probably be the only time in my life I would come close to having my own personal assistant. I quickly signed up. The airline took care of us over and above what I was expecting. They helped carry bags, watched the kids, helped me through immigration, and even collected all the luggage that I had feared to handle all by myself. From the time the agent met us at the gate in San Francisco to meeting up with Dan in Narita, the service proved to be well worth the couple minutes it took to arrange for. It kept me sane! Now, only if I could figure a way to get this type of service at home…

I can’t tell you enough how nice the people working for JAL were. If I could fly on their airline exclusively, I would. But my pocketbook screams each time I think about how much the bill would be if we did fly on JAL. Dan’s company paid for our trek across the pacific—a one time courtesy trip to relocate us in our new home in Japan. Did I mention it was Business Class? Yeah. R-e-a-l-l-y nice: another reason why we couldn’t afford that class and wouldn’t be flying in-style for another millennia. I felt like I didn’t belong there—it was too perfect—but it doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it!!!

There were a handful of stewardesses taking care of us on the plane. They were pretty smitten with my boys too. Even when Ethan pitched a fit—a huge fit, the type where heads turn—because he didn’t want to sit next to a “stranger,” (I guess my stranger-danger lessons have paid off) the stewardesses showed no sign of irritation, but only concern for him and rearranged the seating so he would be able to sit next to his brother. I really feel it was something they did not just because they wanted order in the plane, but they genuinely cared for Ethan (Dan says that they’re just really paid well to put up with that sort of thing—maybe). I later learned that most of the ladies were mothers too. It’s nice to have someone who understands! They would often check up on the boys and even play Legos with them. They kept shoveling heaps of food on their trays too. It seemed like every time my boys finished with one meal, there would be another one waiting for them. The stewardesses brought the boys treats and ice-cream, and even gourmet chocolate. Just my luck, I had to bring Sissy to the restroom for a diaper change each time they were handing out the yummies…d’oh!!!

The only bad thing that happened was when I got sick…real sick, the last couple hours of the flight. My head started to pound like someone was hammering a bolt into the center of my forehead. Then I got very queasy. What didn’t help was that all of my kids were acting like chimps on crack. Although it was early afternoon in Tokyo, it was way past their bed-time in the States. As a matter of fact, it was midnight to us. The boys got a bit rambunctious, Jake more so, making every excuse to get out of his seat, running up and down the isles and saying “hello” to people in First Class. Pour Sissy was so tired and cranky; it was difficult for her to fall asleep. She’d do an occasional jump and fuss on my lap, then stick her left thumb in her mouth and fall into my shoulder. And Ethan was…whoa, Ethan was hyper—talking very loudly, but actually sitting in his seat…unheard of! I had the built-in TV with the Disney Channel to thank. Then me, white faced, and looking pretty pathetic. I think the stewardesses felt sorry for me. One lady offered to take Sissy and walked her up and down the isle. That was probably a good idea, because as soon as she did that, Jake decided he needed to go “potty” and dashed for the bathroom, I staggered after him.

I never thought I would use a sick-bag. I never thought I would be so happy to see one. I was even happier to see—just in time—a large stash of them in the restroom. I don’t know what it is about looking at a toilet that makes me loose control. But it happened. And actually I felt a lot better afterward. After seeing me hurl into my sick-bag, Jake became very quiet and well-behaved afterward. Note to self: if children are not compliant after all means have been exhausted to control situation, try self-induced vomiting.

I think it’s a West curse to leave a “mark” or impression where ever you go. If no one knew us when we first got on the plane, they sure were well acquainted with us by the time we landed. Believe me, it’s not intentional at all. I hate the “spot light.” If I had to choose between being a star on stage or a grunt worker in back, I’d happily sign up to pull the curtains.

I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but those ladies on JAL, were SUPER! They saved my sanity, my life. When I got sick, they took care of me, my kids, my paperwork for immigration and customs and helped me with all of my things when we landed. They handed me and my kids off to some other equally kind JAL agents who carted us through immigration and customs and picked up our heap of baggage. By the time we got through to the greeting area, Dan was waiting for us. It was so great to see him. After being apart on-and-off again during the summer, and with his training behind him, it was nice to finally be a complete “whole” again, not to be separated—for a while anyway!

We had all made it safely to Japan. Even though there was a bit of drama in the beginning and some grueling episodes encountered at the end of the flight, it just made our family reunion even sweeter.