... Lisa, Dan, and Lua: The Georgia Trip

This past week, Lua and I took a trip to Georgia to see Dan's Grandma Peggy. It wasn't an easy trip to make, but it was one that Dan and I deemed necessary-- that week was the one time of year that his father's side of the family would all be together, including his aunt and uncle from England. It was also Lua's first-- and possibly only-- chance to meet her Great-Grandma Peggy.

So I packed ten or twenty little outfits into a suitcase, along with a play mat, some diapers, and a few clothes of my own, then took my nine-week old on her second airplane ride across the continental United States.

It would have been fine, but just as the flight attendants went to shut the door on our red-eye flight from San Francisco, a key part of the door frame snapped. A few frantic phone calls from the cockpit to the maintenance crew confirmed that the part in question would not be available until the next morning. Blurred-eyed and grumpy, we were all herded off the plane and into a line at the customer service desk (which, at one in the morning, was manned only by two overwhelmed and inexperienced junior-level staff members). The airline hotline was closed at that hour, and it was clear that the staff members didn't know what to do with 143 tired and angry customers. They promised to arrange future travel vouchers, but were unable to arrange rooms or transportation for the stranded.

Exhausted, but too poor and too cheap to spend money on a hotel room, I lugged my infant daughter down to the baggage claim to search for my luggage. Then, with car seat, diaper bag, and luggage in hand, I sought out a quiet spot to stay the night. We found a place by the bathrooms. Lua slept fitfully on her playmat while I curled around her and tried to sleep, too.

The night was pretty awful. Maintenance crews cleaned around us, blasting music and humming. The loudspeaker cracked with announcements, giving the same advertisements and travel warnings every three to five minutes. The temperature dropped steadily. When the airline office reopened at 5AM, I called to get the status of my flight.

"Rescheduled," they said. "For 12:15 in the afternoon."

I almost gave up and went home at that point, but some dogged determination kept me going. After all, we'd already spent the night in the airport. It really couldn't get much harder.

In sleepy, blurry circles, I paced the gate for hours, holding onto my baby girl. Lua wiggled in my arms, cheerfully unaware of any discomfort or inconvenience that our canceled flight had caused. She was an impressive and impeccably well-behaved little traveler, and gathered lots of positive attention.

We finally made it to Georgia, just 13 hours later than we had intended. (Ironically, I'd chosen the red-eye flight because I thought it would be the easiest way to travel with a newborn). When I met Dan's dad and uncle at the airport, I dropped Lua's heavy carrier into their arms with a body-wide sigh of relief.

The rest of the visit was pleasant and uneventful. I sincerely enjoyed meeting Dan's aunt and uncle, a set of cheerful nature enthusiasts who raise prize-winning geese in England. I also enjoyed spending time with Dan's Grandma Peggy, who is a sweet and exceedingly kind person.

Most of the family stayed together in a cabin near a lake at Fort Yargo State Park. We did all of those things that families do-- we went for hikes, played games, went out to eat, and talked. Most importantly, Grandma Peggy got to meet and hold her great-granddaughter, which was special and infinitely meaningful.

Then, after three very peaceful days in Georgia, Lua and I turned around to go back home. Little Girl aced her fourth plane ride (fourth!), and I swore to never, ever, ever take a baby on a plane again without Dan.