Who’s the Patron Saint of Traveling with Small Children?

I’ve decide that feeling of trying to sleep on a plane most resembles a mix between the semi-lucid dreams of a 101 Degree fever and the half alert nap one might attempt in a class where one knows all the material. It exists in a twilight zone of human consciousness; an experiential casino where rich and poor alike draw lots to see which one of them will exit the metal sky tube with enough rest to remember which country the plane landed in.

In case the previous philosophical waxing didn’t clue you in, I had some difficulty sleeping on the plane. Whatever a poet might muse about an infant’s cry, I don’t find surround sound shrieks to make great white noise for sleeping. I strongly recommend the Catholics church find a saint for “parents traveling with small children.” The pour souls deserve prayer as well as grace. Perhaps Mary? She did have to travel quite a way with the infant Jesus. Although you disrupted my sleep, I give mad props to the brave parents traveling with children

In leu of sleep, I was able to have a quite pleasant conversation with a German citizen about immigration, the recent us presidential election, and abortion discussion in US politics. Never know what kind of conversation you’ll get into on an airplane.

Travel discomforts and conversations aside, “Group #2” has landed and rallied in Frankfurt. Group 1 [LA], lead by the fearless Jenny, has been curse by the travel gods with delays and is ]. It’s a chilly day in Frankfurt and there’s a light coating of snow outside.

Some of the group has taken it upon themselves to name the baggage. For example, Ali’s bag’s have been named Eagle 1 and Eagle 2. Thus when she set them down, “The Eagle has Landed.” I trust you, dear reader, can intuit the joke.

Look for more posts as we get settled in Jordan.