Friday, I boarded a plane (and just so you know, Delta is NOT Air
France even if they're 'associated') to fly to . It's always been an easy trip. Leave Morocco Boston in the early evening, settle down and sleep 'til I arrive in Paris, hang around for a couple of hours and then fly into . Rabat
Not this time.
I figured things were going well because I was in about the only row of 3 seats with only 2 of us seated. Until we took off. And the kid in the row behind started crying. Not just the whimper or whine of ear troubles taking off. Nope. This was full-throated, frantic wailing. That went on. And on. She'd stop for about 5 minutes, then start up again. For anywhere from 15 minutes to half an hour. Another 5 minute break and back to wailing. Mind you, this is a 7-8 hour flight. All plans of arriving rested flew out the window -- so to speak.
Eventually, the kid wore herself out -- or I was even more exhausted and fell asleep in spite of the racket. In any event, I got a couple of hours sleep, max.
During the layover in
Paris, I got more and more nervous as people assembled for the flight to . Kids. Lots of kids. Lots of little kids. I groaned inwardly -- and maybe not so silently. This flight is only a couple of hours long, but I had figured I could at least get in a nap. Morocco
As it turned out, it wasn't bad. There were a few cries here and there, but the usual fussiness, not the frenzied crying on the previous flight. So, I was able to get a couple of hours sleep.
When my son and lovely granddaughters ( 4 and 6) greeted me after I got through customs, I gave them big hugs. My son asked how the trip went. So I came to a dead stop, knelt down, beckoned the girls over and said: "Poor Gramma had a baby in the row behind me crying all night. Then there were kids crying on the flight here. So, please do me a favor. Don't cry today or I'll run out of the house and run screaming down the street, tearing my hair out."
They are the best girls. Not one whimper or whine out of them for the whole time since I've been here.