Airport Do's and Don't. Mostly just DON'T.

When you make the decision to travel via plane you knowingly put your sanity in the hands of thousands of random (mostly annoying) strangers. You also consent to breathing in recirculated body odor for the duration of your flight. I'm not "well-traveled" by any means, but I've been in and out of LAX enough times to have learned my share of Airport Etiquette. Let's review:

1) When flying Southwest plan on lining up numerically. But don't come ask to see my ticket so you can confirm I'M in the right spot. If you're 37 and I'm 38, get in line behind me anyway. Don't be such an overachiever.

2) It's an airport bathroom, if you're curling your hair or brushing your teeth before leaving the airport you probably don't live with your boyfriend yet. Kind of a cute concept, but don't hog the mirror space. I need to see how flat my hair got.

3) When the flight attendant asks you to please finish you drink because we're preparing to land, just finish your drink. This isn't a cocktail party, it's an 8$ "glass" of cheap chardonnay- HAND IT OVER.

4) Don't take your shoes off on a plane. Ever. I'm sure your feet don't smell but the minute I know you took your shoes off I start sniffing around awkwardly.

5) When the flight attendant asks you to turn off your phone, please do. I don't want to die a fiery death b/c you were playing Words With Friends. If you must talk on the phone prior to take off, please mind the TMI because I'm definitely listening.

And last but NEVER least...
6) Personal space---obey it, and if you don't know it, learn it (before you get knocked out).

Peace. Love. First Class.

Have Baby...Won't Travel.

I love having a baby...and I love traveling. I don't love traveling with a baby. Honestly, the whole idea makes my insides knot up into this tightly-wound (big) anxiety ball. Everything from security, to boarding, to take off is stress inducing. The irony being, my daughter actually does really well on planes- I dont. I'm a little chlostrophobic (among other things) and the thought of squeezing in between two random people and watching them judge me as I try to calm my child literally sends shivers down my spine.

My first plan flight alone with the baby was an utter FAIL. I got to the airport 2 hours early, only to find that the flight was 40 minutes delayed. 3 hours of strolling around an annoyed almost-toddler, 4 diaper changes, 2 bottles of formula and a big ass Aunt Annie's pretzel later and it was finally time to board. I figured that since I had a baby I could just walk right up to the gate where I would be offered assistance and condolences. Wrong. I waited for the entire A group to board, and then finally made my way to the front of the line. 10 other passengers anxiously waited as I tried to unlock the stroller with one hand, while juggling the baby with the other. That's when shit started getting real.

 I sat down next to the window and prayed no one would sit down next to me. Sure enough a 10 year old girl found a cozy place btwn her mother and I. Cool, ten year olds can't be that judgey, right? After fastening the seat belt and saying one last prayer, the captain proceeded to let us know that we'd be "taxi'ing" on the runway for another 15 minutes. The re-circulated air turned stale and my hands started to shake. Hearing those words literally drained whatever strength I had left and I started to feel dizzy. I looked over at aforementioned 10 year old and desperately begged her to hold my baby because I was sure I was going to faint. I didn't faint- I just looked like an idiot. Long story short, the 45 minutes went by relatively fast and the baby and I both exited the plane unscathed.

The next 3 plane flights were more of the same. I normally cry---the baby normally doesn't.

This time tomorrow Justin and I will be boarding a plane to LA, with our favorite little frequent flyer. I'm going to be brave, and I'm going to stay positive (because mommy's packing tequila and downers).