The Stranger on the Plane
My brick of an iPhone rang as I swung three carry-ons over my shoulder. “Hi, sweetie. I’m just making sure you made it to your gate all right.” “Hey, Mom! No, we’ve not even checked in yet. My daughter Audrey pulled on my dress incessantly and I gripped my son's chubby hand tightly. “Yeah, Mom, I’ll call you later; I've got to go.” I hung up and turned toward my needy children assuring them once we made it through security I would secure them breakfast. We were flying home for my sister's wedding, and I HATED flying. Honestly in my opinion you may as well put a deposit on a burial plot and climb in your coffin. This intense anxiety was merely the cherry atop my travel sundae. Juggling six suitcases, three carry-ons, and two children was like playing a game of Tetris. Or a game of would you rather…(would you rather someone steal your suitcase or your child) I began the schlep of all schlepps to the check-in counter which was surely a sight fit for America’s Funniest Hom...
