Last week I had the pleasure of spending some time around a very outspoken woman- who fucking hates kids. With a fiery passion. She doesn't think children should leave the house before they are old enough to understand consequences and totally behave. And she was very outspoken about it.
She regaled us with a seemingly endless trove of stories which included her berating parents for a variety of different actions that she perceived as parenting pitfalls- most of which just involved leaving the house with their children. There was the time that she presented the parent of what she deemed to be an ill-behaved child, the check for the meal that she just consumed. She couldn't totally enjoy her meal because of the little shit, so naturally the father should pay, right?
Then there was a barrage of stories about all of the flights that she had taken, which had been torture because of one screaming child or another. Her storytelling ended with this declaration:
Children should not be allowed on flights. Ever. There is no reason why an infant or toddler should ever be on a flight. No reason. You have a child, you make a decision. You change your lifestyle. No flights.
I'm sorry- Wha? I don't care how many children have made a flight unpleasant for you- that makes no motherf-ing sense. Whatsoever. I'm paraphrasing her words a little, because I wasn't exactly taking notes- although I should have been, to hear her tell it. She apparently has it all figured out. All the injustices in the world would probably cease, if only all of the brats would stay at home.
By us, I mean people with children. By them, I mean people without. Or vice-versa.
There seems to be a constant barrage of never-ending complaints, and new places where babies just shouldn't be allowed. Babies in restaurants- No! Babies on planes- No! Babies in the library- No! Babies at Barnes and Noble, Starbucks, Macy's, Pathmark, Target, and any other random place you can think of- no, no, no, no, no, no.
Now, I'm not saying that there aren't a lot of really loud children out there, with parents who don't seem to notice. I've even written some posts on the subject.* What I am saying is, children are not the only annoyance in our over crowded world. They just aren't. I'm sick of people acting like they are. And I am really sick of people without children thinking that they are entitled to some super peaceful existence because they decided not to procreate.
|This doesn't really fit here. I just like it.|
Guess what? You're not in Sandal's all inclusive resort for adults. You're in New York City. Nobody gets peace. Nobody. And newsflash- air travel sucks for everyone who isn't rich enough to fly first class. It does, and it always will. Period.
The last flight I took before I got pregnant, was to Florida to visit my family. I sat next to a man who, I'm guessing- by the sheer amount of body that was overflowing onto my seat- weighed about 350 pounds. At the beginning of the flight he rested his giant arm on our shared armrest, and fell asleep. I was stuck watching a Scooby Doo marathon, all the way to Florida, because I couldn't slide my finger under his arm to change the channel. Believe me I tried. The feeling of sticking my finger up under the rolls of fat, and not finding the damn channel button, was really gross. I almost felt like I was violating him in some way. I gave up. I spent the rest of the flight watching Scooby Doo, crammed into the 2/3 of the seat that wasn't inhabited by my snoring seatmate. I would've traded a screaming infant for that scenario in a heartbeat.
Then there was the time I apparently sat behind a man with Irritable Bowel Syndrome. He farted the entire flight. The silent kind, that actually makes the air around you warmer. I would rather have someone change a diaper full of shit on my tray table than be shrouded by a cloud of man-fart for 5 hours. I promise you I would.
Then there was the god-forsaken flight to Vegas where I sat next to a bunch of ex-frat-boy-turned-day trader-assholes. They spent the whole flight drinking, high-fiving, calling each other Brohiem, and talking about all the women they slayed- at an unbelievably high volume. I wanted to stab myself in the face with my spork. Repeatedly. Until I died of self-inflicted spork wounds- 30,000 feet above Lodi. That's how bad that flight was. And there wasn't a single child on it.
So to all the people who hate seeing children on flights- I get it. It's annoying. But I'll give you a tip for getting through it. Since, unlike myself, you don't have a child that you have to attempt to keep quiet and subdued for the duration of your flight- have a cocktail. Or four. Put your headphones on. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.