On the previous cruises we've taken we have enjoyed the luxury of sailing from a port close to our home. This is obviously the most optimal, as you drop a surprising amount of cash on transportation costs trying to get to a cruise ship elsewhere. Unfortunately, there are no Norfolk-to-Alaska cruises, so we reluctantly had to fly this time.
I've been spoiled over the past couple years by government travel. Before our cruise I only flew on Mondays and Fridays when the planes are full of business travelers. Planes full of people who knew exactly how to get through security, who lived by carry-on limitations, and were, most importantly, quiet companions.
We flew to Seattle on a Wednesday aboard Southwest, or, as I've come to know it, the Every Man's Airline. There are no class distinctions in Southwest, are there? Seating is first-come, first-served. You don't get more American than that. Of the 137 seats available, at least 80 were filled with 60 pounds of raw human energy in small packages. These kids were crazy, and their parents, obviously beaten down by years of juvenile oppression, bore little resistance. Now, we are by no means anti-children. We are just anti-bad parents. For four hours and forty-five minutes, we suffered through this maelstrom of kicked seats, inane non-inside voice screams, and marathon aisle-running. Our favorite moment, by far, was sitting at the Las Vegas airport gate waiting to deplane when the girl in front of us took great interest in the baggage handlers.
Girl: Is that our green suitcase?
Mom: Let me see. No.
Girl: Is that our green suitcase?
Mom: Is it? No.
Girl: Is that our green suitcase?
Mom: Maybe...no.
Girl: Is that our green suitcase?
Mom: <silent>
Girl: Is that our green suitcase?
Mom: <still distracted>
Girl: Is that our green suitcase?
Mom: Wait, let me look. No.
Girl: Oh.
Girl: Is that our green suitcase?
Mom: No.
You get the idea.
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