Chloe, Zoe, and Elmo Take Flight
This morning I am boarding a plane to Charlotte, North Carolina. It has been a breeze getting to LaGuardia, then through the security checks and the gate check-in.
As I walk down the aisle toward my row, nothing but empty seats stare back at me, except up ahead, I see a mom and her kid already seated. Mom took advantage of the early boarding for those with children. Sure enough, they are in my row. Mom, seated on the aisle, steps out to let me in as we exchange greetings. I have the window seat and the kid is in the middle seat sharing it with a big red happy Elmo, about the same size as the little girl. Both are already seatbelted for the ride.
While taxiing to the runway, the two-year old — Chloe — squirms out of the middle seat to sit on top of mom. No amount of candy bribes from mom persuades her to move back next to Elmo. The stewardess checks in a couple of times, finally dipping to eye level to help Chloe’s mother plead her case for safety, but to no avail. We take off with Chloe on her mother’s lap sucking gummy bears to help with the pressure change. Elmo is less problematic. He is secure and ignored in his own seat. He doesn’t challenge me for our shared armrest.
During the climb, Chloe squirms on top of her mother, rotating like a stripped screw, then, sliding from her chest down between her legs to the floor before jumping back up on top and repeating. Chloe has no interest in sitting next to Elmo. She looks over at me a few times, checking to see if I am watching her. Her eye contact telling me that she is intent on punishing mom for bringing her on this trip and no one is going to stop her.
It turns out that Chloe was actually Zoe. I misheard her name, because mom utters her name with pursed lips.
Not long after the plane is level, Zoe runs out of energy and falls fast asleep on top of mom. All the nearby passengers join me to silently thank the Lord.
As the beverage cart approaches, a cup of coffee seems like the perfect antidote to the chilled plane. But before I can think about another cup, I need to hit the bathroom given the many cups I had at home before heading out. Blocking my exit, though, is a formidable barrier: a sleeping Zoe on top of mom.
Earlier, Mom mentioned that this was Zoe’s first plane trip and she wasn’t sure how Zoe would handle the pressure changes. And now, she is fast asleep, so I don’t dare ask mom to wake up Zoe.
I turn down a cup of coffee or anything else to drink from the stewardess. Zoe’s mom can’t have a drink either with Zoe’s head just below her chin. With Elmo sitting in the middle, my row declines the cart.
I read for awhile, but the more I try to distract myself, the more I have to go. I begin scheming about ways to get to the aisle without waking Zoe. I consider climbing over the two of them, using Elmo’s other armrest to stand on, but I don’t want to risk kneeing Zoe in the head. Also, whether I go over the top facing forward or backward, I would end up with my butt or crotch right over Zoe’s mom face. That would be awkward.
When two of the passengers closest to the aisle in the row behind me get up, I consider setting my seat at a different upright position from Elmo’s seat to create space between seats to get my legs through. But, if they beat me back to the seat, I would still have to wake up Zoe when I return. To make matters worse, I turn to notice that mom has also passed out with Zoe’s sweaty head on her chest. That clinches it. I am not going to get by until we land. Mom is finally getting a little rest.
Thankfully, it is a short flight to Charlotte and we are soon back on the ground. The jostling wakes up Mom and then Zoe, who deposits a mouthful of gummy bears on Mom’s chest. Mom calls her name with pursed lips again, casually disposing the gummy gummy bears and begins to organize her belongings as we taxi to the gate. Elmo, who has not budged the whole flight, is picked up by the head and stuffed roughly into the large canvas bag now filled with their stuff.
When we move out of our row heading to the door, Zoe, in Mom’s arms single file ahead of me, looks back at me over her mother’s shoulder. I can see Elmo’s red arm dangling from the bag on the other shoulder. Once on the jet bridge, I give Zoe a quick bye-bye and I finally get around the pair, rushing pass them and onto the terminal looking for relief.
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