That’s what the infant a couple of rows back from me did the whole flight. The whole five + hours of flying from San Francisco to New York.
Now, I’m pretty sure this baby wasn’t wailing over the death of the Lord & Master’s beloved Aunt Ginger, the reason we found ourselves suddenly winging east. But, come on, a multihour sobfest? Has this mother not heard of bottles, binkies, Nyquil? I don’t get it. How can anyone bring her baby aboard without major soothing methods, especially for the inevitable ear clogging of landings?
When Sassafrass was a wee one, I hauled a minimum of four bottles per flight. Once we even gave one away to another supply-free couple who gaped in astonishment at our stash.
Also in my bag of tricks was a change of clothes for Sassy, in case she upchucked her meals. Alas, my clever child once decided to heave all over me before we even took off. Whew, I was one sour and damp mess for the duration. At least we only offended passengers’ noses; not their ears.
Luckily for the L&M, his low-normal hearing levels kept him safe from the racket that bombarded me. Mothers, I beg you, bring your bottles or your breasts when you fly with your baby.