Vacation Voyage: The Return
As with all good things, vacations too must come to an end. Except, you can't wiggle your nose or click your ruby slippers three times and miraculously find yourself home again … fully unpacked and completely settled. Nope, you've got to pack up (again) and trek on home, which in our case was so significant we still refer to it as "The Return."
For those of you following this series, the flight with my husband and toddler to Italy went very well (surprisingly so). I had packed an army of toys and distractions that it turned out we didn't need, as our daughter slept through 80% of the flight. We still look back at that experience and remark what it miracle it was. We thought we could expect that on the return flight home too. Turns out, we were wrong.
During our entire trip, we lived with the fear that we could be facing the nightmare of not making our return flight. We tried to put it out of our minds, but it would sneak back in here and there. The first leg of our return flight left at 9:30am, and our cruise was due to dock back in Venice (port of origin) at 7:30am. We were vigorously warned we were cutting it very close, as in we could miss the plane entirely, and our connection in Zurich to get to New York, and there wasn't another flight for twelve hours … you get the picture.
So we did everything we could to avoid that, which meant disembarking from the ship with the first group. We then took a cab to the airport and arrived there in plenty of time. The cab driver even brought us to the check-in counter, which definitely says something about the courtesy of Italian men. We sighed with relief, thinking the worst was over. We were going to make the plane and everything would be fine.
At check-in, the airline proceeded to inform us that because our daughter had been deemed an "infant" (she was 22 months old) they assumed she would be sitting on our laps and had given up her seat — a seat that we had paid for. "So sorry," they said, "you can contact Swiss Air and get a refund after you've landed." Now, I'm aware that Americans can be considered pushy, and I had been in Italy long enough to realize how easily they go with the flow. And I considered how I would look to the airline employee who was handling this case briefly, and then I decided that I didn't care. "Oh, well, I'M SORRY, because that isn't going to work for us. I don't want my money back; I want the seat I paid for and my daughter in it for the eight-hour flight back to New York. Yeah, you're going to need to find another one." One look at my husband told me that it was a good thing I had spoken with them; I don't think I'd ever seen that shade of red on his face before.
And, wouldn't you know it, they found a seat for the pushy Americans. I'm sure they all spoke in Italian behind my back, but I didn't care. I was not about to have my toddler on my lap for eight hours. I did my happy dance right there at the gate, and my daughter saw me and joined in too.
The plane ride to our connection in Zurich was only an hour long and went smoothly, until they told us they had taken the courtesy of checking our stroller all the way through to New York. And that our connection was in a different terminal on the other side of the airport. So, we grabbed our daughter’s hand, our five carry-ons and trekked across the airport. It was annoying, sure, but I actually wasn't that upset because (as I referenced previously in this series) the Zurich Airport is truly a thing of beauty. To me, it's right up there with the pyramids. Trust me, you have to see it to believe it.
We then boarded our seven-hour flight to New York. My daughter fell asleep at take-off and my husband and I smiled, relaxed into our seats, and started watching the movies on demand the in-flight entertainment offered. We didn’t get to see much. She woke up after an hour and a half, and was up for the rest of the flight.
The good news is she never really and truly lost it. My toddler didn't go into the inconsolable cry where there's nothing you can do but listen to the shrieking and count the minutes. But, she got fried, and wired, and bored, and constipated, and over-tired. And despite the fact that she had a personal LCD screen in front of her, she just couldn’t care less about television. Never did, and it didn’t change on this trip either. So, she climbed up and down her chair a lot. We went through our arsenal of toys: DVD player (useless), coloring book and crayons (maybe lasted one minute), books (no interest), food (was over it within minutes as well), stuffed animals (as if!) and stickers. The stickers actually did work, for a least an hour, which made us very happy. During the rest of the time, what kept her occupied once again surprised us.
On the headrest of the seat there was a piece of white fabric that hung there via Velcro. That piece of fabric saved us. My daughter faced the back of her seat and ripped off and reattached that piece of Velcro for hours. She thought it was the greatest thing in the world! That, and the plastic cups they serve with the round of drinks and a plastic spoon to make “num num.” That’s it. She did that, played with stickers, tried to poop a lot unsuccessfully, and whined and shouted her way through the flight. And even though she never completely lost it, my husband and I were still totally fried when we got off the plane. Like really, really done. We had nothing left when we touched down, I don’t even recall getting off the aircraft.
Our daughter passed out in the car on the way back to our apartment around 6pm EST, and shortly thereafter we transferred her to her crib. I used to be the kind of traveler who couldn’t sit down after returning from a trip until everything was unpacked and put away. After we got home, I reached deep down inside me to try to find that version of myself, and she wasn’t there — unparalleled mental and physical exhaustion had taken her place. I sat down on the couch, forced myself to eat something, and passed out at 8pm.
As you can see, the trip back was sort of a mess — things did not go smoothly and our daughter did not sleep for the majority of it like she had on the way there. But I still consider it a success because one very amazing and important thing did happen. My husband and I handled everything very, very well. Don’t get me wrong, we were annoyed, then angry, then really ticked off, and tired and spent and drained. But we never once took it out on each other. We had each other’s back the entire time. This has not always been the case in the past. There have been times where our emotions have gotten the better of us (as in verbally vomiting on each other). But not on this occasion, where we had every reason under the sun to proceed that way, we didn’t. And I’m really, really proud of that. Maybe that was our miracle, after all.
Author: Amy
The Vacation Voyage Series
Vacation Voyage: In The Beginning
My husband, our 22-month-old toddler and I are going on vacation for a week to Greece...
Vacation Voyage: Ready, Set...
T-minus "x" number of hours until the taxi picks us up for our family trip...
Vacation Voyage: Go!
I can hardly believe that I’m here ... but then again, the journey here was something I won’t soon forget...
Vacation Voyage: The Vacation Part
This is the part you've been waiting for. This is the vacation part. Let us all take a moment to say: Amen...
