Trip Report

We made it to Whidbey Island, WA, after a grueling and very long flight. But before I recount our tale of woe, let me recap our travel history for those of you who are new to our adventures.

My parents have a summer home in Langley, WA, located on Whidbey Island approximately 45 minutes north of Seattle. We have visited them for a few weeks in August for the past 4 years. My two older brothers live in Seattle, along with various other relatives in WA and OR, and it is a nice time to have an extended vacation away from the heat of North Carolina.

The first year we came out here with Mason, he was 10 months old. Mark came with us, and the trip was uneventful aside from a lot of cursing at the Britax Marathon. It wouldn’t fit in the plane seat, was a pain to lug around, and got checked in for the return flight. I don’t remember any problems; Mason had a great time on all the modes of transportation we used – planes, trains, vans – a vehicle-loving baby’s dream.

The second year, I ventured out without Mark so that nearly-2-year-old Mason and I could spend an extra week with the grandparents. We left in the evening, with the silly idea that Mason would fall asleep on the plane. After screaming for 4 hours straight, he eventually did fall asleep, and I learned that my boy is a better traveler during the day.

Last year, Mason and I again flew by ourselves. He did wonderfully, but I was miserable. Somehow I managed to keep from throwing up, but there were several close calls – my all-day morning sickness did not make for a pleasant journey. I vowed that I would not return with two children without assistance.

Which brings us to this year – Mason will be 4 next month and Max will be 5 months on Monday. My mom flew to Raleigh a few days before our trip to help me pack and escort us on the plane. We left the house at 11:45 am to give us plenty of time before the 1:55 pm flight. Mark drove us to the airport and carried in the two bags and car seat; the attendant ignored the weight of my big suitcase (53.5 lbs., despite all my efforts to keep it under the limit) and didn’t charge me $25. So far, so good.

Our first flight to Dallas was delayed due to weather conditions. Instead of boarding at 1:50, we boarded around 2:45 and left at 3. No big problem – Max took a nap while we were waiting and all were in good spirits. We were a little afraid that we might miss our connection to Seattle, but Mom checked with the gate person and she thought we’d make it; if not, there was another flight a few hours later.

Mason fell asleep towards the end of the flight, and we woke him up when the pilot announced that we were nearing Dallas. We discovered that his pants and seat were all wet (hidden under his blanky) but didn’t make a fuss over the accident, as we figured we’d land soon and take care of it then. We were mistaken – after flying around for 10-15 minutes, the pilot explained that the Dallas Fort Worth Airport was now closed due to bad weather. He thought we’d be able to land in a little while and he’d keep the plane circling. Ok.

Mom took Mason to the bathroom, cleaned him up, changed his pants, and seated him on a blanket. Another 15-20 minutes passed, and the pilot returned to the loudspeaker – the airport was still closed, other planes were landing in Austin, and we were heading towards the next nearest airport in Shreveport, Louisiana. Huh? All the passengers opened their in-flight magazines and checked the map in the back; Shreveport is not in the right direction, and it is not a very big airport.

We landed in Shreveport, hoping to get something to eat or at least stretch our legs. No such luck – we sit in on the plane for over 2 hours. I had packed some snacks and baby oatmeal. Mom, Mason and I dine on granola bars and fruit snacks. Max has his oatmeal, but most of it ends up on my head. We waited and waited. Both boys behaved very, very well during the extra confinement, but I was extremely stressed – would we get to Seattle that night? Would I run out of diapers (7 left) or formula (30 oz. remaining)? Would I ever get to eat dinner?

Finally we take off and fly back to Dallas. Mason had a short tantrum after dropping Superman on the floor; we couldn’t find him and thought we might have to deplane without him. The other passengers cheered when Mason found him under my seat. Then, Mom and Mason rushed off the plane while Max and I waited for the stroller. Mom stood in the line to find out how to get us to Seattle; while waiting, she called the service hotline and was told to run to the gate for the next flight and try to get on standby. We do that, only to find that there are 14 people in front of us on the standby list. It was not looking good.

We sat for 1.5 hours and worried and waited. Max had a screaming fit, cured by a bottle and a quick nap with his eyes open. Mom bought me a salad and Mason ate a yogurt and teddy grahams. The standby list grew to over 25 names. We wondered – would we get on the plane? Would our luggage make it? Would we miss the ferry to Whidbey Island?

At last they began to board the plane at around 9:30 pm (that’s 10:30 EST). We watched as ticketed passengers boarded and a few names were cleared from the standby list, moving our names up little by little to numbers 5, 6, and 7. Tension mounted; Mason was repeatedly shushed. Yeah! Our names were called and we rushed onto the plane. A friendly older couple switched seats with us so that we could all sit together. Then Max began to scream.

Poor little guy – he felt like it was 1 am and he had not yet been put to bed. For over 20 minutes he screamed his heart out for all to hear. Other passengers eyed him suspiciously and mumbled under their breath. Mom and I passed him back and forth trying to calm him down. Mason declared he was going to stay up all night. The plane took off and they both finally fell asleep.

We arrived in Seattle shortly after midnight (that’s 3 am EST). By some miracle, our luggage appeared, and I struggled to get the Marathon installed in Dad’s ’99 Expedition (no LATCH). Unfortunately, the last ferry to Whidbey Island departs at 1:05 am. Instead of a 45-minute drive and a short ferry trip, we now had to drive over the bridge to get to Langley – an almost 2-hour drive on a dark, winding road. Not much traffic at that time of day.

Just before 4 am, we finally arrived at my parents’ home in Langley. Mason had a small disoriented fit before getting into bed, and Max seemed to think it was time to wake up and play – but Grandma Fran dealt with that. I went up to my room and went to sleep.

It could have been worse – 2999.83 miles is a very long drive.