Flying Home

Today we fly home. We're on Air Canada from Rome to Montreal, and then from Montreal to Chicago. I had a lovely time on Air Canada when I first flew to England back in 1996, but then we stopped using them. Why?

In March of 2003, Juliette was five months old. It was our first trip to England with her. We boarded the plane at Heathrow to come home...and sat there for five hours. Luckily Juliette was so young. I know it sounds counter-intuitive to want an infant at that time, but the alternative could've been what we had on our next trip to England: Juliette as a feisty 26-month-old and Ilsa at 11 months. A toddler would've been waaaaaaaay worse in that situation. They're mobile, for one thing. And they require more food than breastmilk. Seeing as how the staff of Air Canada never gave us anything, not even water, that would've been disastrous.

But oh, were we pissed. From noon to 5pm, we sat in a plane. Not going anywhere. It was a travel evilness that I never want to repeat. Then there was the snooty-ass French guy at the rebooking counter who I know my dad would've hit, had he been there. We wound up going back to my in-laws' house for another night, then getting up early, early, ass-early to do it all again the next day. You're not supposed to see familiar faces when you're in line at a check-in desk, but there they all were--the people we'd endured five hours with on the previous day. All of them looked as un-enthused with life as we did.

The next week, Air Canada filed for bankruptcy. I'm hoping this time is better.

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