Traveling with Children

As I walk through the airport needing coffee, needing to pee and already needing a cigarette, I am greeted with the usual airport travel grievances. Number one the kids can’t keep up and they want me to carry their shit.

{Hold on… I need to get up to let my niece pee. She only just sat down. Wait, the girl has ketchup on everything.  Let me get a napkin again.}

I am reminded of a memorable travel day with my parents. Let me share…wait a minute, I just came out of the bathroom and was thinking, I have never had sex in an airplane. I have never given a hand job on a plane, nor a blow job.  I have never even kissed on an airplane—nothing. It may be the only Virgin place for me.

{How cool.}

Now I am feeling pure, to tell my childhood story. ..

{Cute boy behind me just gave me a better pen to write this, I wonder if he wants a blowjob…Sorry sidetracked again.}

Soooo… must have been about 1977 and my Mom and Dad thought  a nice day trip on the train with me a precocious 5 year old and my brother –still normal toddler in a stroller, to the City Aquarium. The ride there must’ve been fine, I remember none of that—I usually don’ remember any of my childhood unless it was somehow traumatic to me. Dad is really cheap so we were probably hungry. We were always hungry.

{ Fucking kid six rows up will not stop screaming do they not have candy or Benedryl to give it?!?!}

Anyway I think we made it through the aquarium where outside there is a giant escalator that my Mother fell down. Right.  Fell down the escalator. Well, she got up and Dad proceeded to humiliate her further in some form, any  form , use your imagination. Moving toward the train—now everybody is in a rush. Grumpy fireman, frail mom, toe headed still ok toddler and me…all curls and curiousity. Let’s all get on the train….get on quickly, squish in there, we don’t want to have to wait for the next one that comes in 3 minutes, oh good all in, doors shut, son of a bitch I’m on the wrong side of the fucking door. Really? What the Fuck! Ok here’s an idea, yes, let the crazy hippie lady walk me to the next stop. She looks ok, long gray hair and willing to take me, seems good enough for my parents to say ok. This was my first realy experience of walking away with strangers that I was afraid to do but did anyway.

{Shut that fuckin’ kid up!!! Thank God it’s not mine.} 

Anyway—it all ended fine. They found me, my mother had bruises all over her from the fall; and took a beating from her lovely husband later for being a dumb ass.  My brother was exposed to a little more visual cues that would be shaping him into the man he’d one day become and I started my career of talking to strangers.

{That kid behind me is really cute I wonder if I should offer his pen back?}

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