“What are these?” The agent pointed to the objects in the lunch box that had caused concern. I did my best to maintain a straight face as I explained the sport themed cold packs. The security guy didn’t seem too amused by the frozen football and soccer ball keeping the food cold. Apparently, they had begun to thaw, and the moisture played havoc on the screening machines. Eventually, he was able to laugh it off, so I was pretty sure I’d be avoiding the interrogation room.

After a quick stop at the terminal A Starbuck’s, we trekked over to the gate. The boarding process had begun, so we took our place in line. We had made it through the check in and security process and arrived at the plane on time. As we made our way down the Jetway, fatigue began to set in. Maybe I was too tired to continue to imagine the potential tantrums or episodes that could have turned the flight into airline incident worthy of national news coverage. But as I watched them board the plane and saw the excitement in their steps the little demons I had imagined faded away. I just saw tired little guys who were eager to fly on an airplane. I travel so often for work that “excited” would hardly be the adjective I’d use to describe my feelings when it comes to getting on a plane. Watching them take in the experience (Ethan flying for the first time) helped me see this trip in a different light. It began to feel fun again. Fresh… almost new. We found our seats.

Part of my strategy for the early morning flight was that I was hoping there would be empty seats around us. I figured that might tempt anyone who was assigned the aisle seat in either of our rows to seek refuge elsewhere. Just in case. Dillon and Kendra (and Ethan on the lap)  ended up with a free seat on their row. The gentleman next to me decided to move to give Jaden and I some extra space. Everything was coming together. I thanked him for his kindness and turned to watch Jaden staring out the window at the dewy airplanes waiting in the cloudy dawn. Ethan and Dillon were sharing the view from the row behind us. “Airplane!” Ethan shrieked. He was beside himself with joy and the full-toothed grin was plastered on his face. He made a few trips back and forth between our rows to make sure he saw all the angles of the planes to our right. When the time finally came to buckle up and prepare for take off, he popped his head over my seat and with his precious index finger pointed skyward yelled, “up!”

The plane ascended slowly through the clouds. They were so thick that at one point on the climb we could not see the wings outside our window. The smoky plumes washed over the plane and my nervousness and pessimism faded with them. The haze began to thin and visibility beyond the wings again became possible. A towering pillow of cotton and chalk appeared as the plane began to level. Jaden and Dillon dubbed it “Volcano Cloud”. It was shaped like El Capitan and appeared swollen as if it was ready to erupt streams of clouds across the sky. The boys imagined the possibilities of the contents of that cloud and wondered what we might find if we flew through it. Ethan was awestruck. He would point to himself and say “Up. High.” and raise his little hand above his head. This had to seem like magic to him…the boys were all locked in the zone… and I was right there with them.

After we flew beyond Volcano Cloud, we ventured into Cloud Valley. It was the Grand Canyon of clouds. The boys chattered in amazement. Mountains of clouds towered skyward and blocked the horizon. We would occasionally clip a peak and strands of cottony cliff would tumble across the wing. Hills rolled onward below us. Sporadic gaps in the tapestry exposed the brownish landscape below and it appeared that boulders spotted the snowy riverbed we traversed. We were explorers. Pioneers. Astronauts. Aliens. The metaphors abounded. 

None of us slept during those 4.5 hours. Kendra and I played the back and forth game with Ethan and took turns escorting the boys to the restroom for relief from their apple juice drinking binges. We would alternate imagining out the window and playing games or drawing in our notebooks. Exhaustion finally overtook them as we lifted off for our short flight from Charlotte to Charleston. Jaden and Ethan succumbed to sleep. Dillon soldiered on and stared silently out the window. His body was resting, but his eyes were searching the skies.

The weather was gorgeous when we landed in South Carolina. The stress from the check-in counter was thousands of miles away. My calculations were off. The combination of factors I identified did not result in disaster. Not even close. I didn’t care to ponder the error in my approach. The boys had behaved as boys their age would be expected to behave on a trip that long… definitely no worse, and quite possibly even better. They enjoyed themselves. We enjoyed ourselves. It was everything it should have been. I found myself smiling as I edged my way down the aisle to exit the plane. I couldn’t remember the last time I enjoyed air travel. But I realized we took a trip down a route we can never take again, and I was glad that I was able to see the mountains for the clouds.

Thanks for coming along for the ride!

Clouds hung low in the cool morning air. I wondered if the looming gray overhang bore any foreshadowing of the day’s events. The twins had already gained notoriety during a previous flight. This would be Ethan’s first time in an airplane, and he was ticketed as a lap child since he was under 2 years old. But at his size, and on a 4 1/2 hour flight (that was just the first leg) I wasn’t sure how long he would be staying in anyone’s lap. I was hearing signs of life from the backseat as the excitement for the trip began to percolate in the boys. Panic began to set in as the clouds appeared to darken. The equation became clear…[(2 + lap child) x (under rested + over excited)+ hungry] x (4.5 hour flight + 1 hour flight) = DISASTER. Yes. This could end poorly.

We pulled into the parking structure and spiraled upward to the 4th level. Parking was plentiful at 4:37AM so we secured a space near the elevator lobby. After unloading our gear, outfitting the boys with their backpacks, balancing the car seat on the handlebars of the stroller, and situating our laptops and roller-bags so their movement was coordinated we headed toward the ticketing counter to check in. The boys were all visibly excited by this time, and my thoughts turned to whether or not we would get individual holding cells or if they would lock us up together once they hauled us off for causing a riot on the plane… I blinked away the images and tried to focus on positive thoughts.

There was barely a line at the check in counter (loving the ease of this early morning flight… so far) and we printed our boarding passes with ease. Then came time to check our bags. I lifted the first bag onto the scale: 42 lbs. Well under the 50 lb limit. No problem; tagged and whisked to the side. I looked over to the second bag. Kendra was able to get all of our stuff into these two bags…shoes, sweaters, books, toys, and changes of clothes for all of us for 6 days. We had some concerns about the weight of the larger bag, this bag. My thought was that if they both came in under 100 lbs it should even out. That makes sense, right? You check two bags, you get 100 lbs to play with. It shouldn’t matter if it’s 60/40, 70/30, 80/20, or 50/50! Well, it matters. Not so much to the plane, but to the poor attendant who has to lug those bags around and toss them onto the conveyer belts.

I lifted the bag onto the scale. Kendra and I were looking around like a couple of high school kids at a house party when the police arrived, hoping no one notices the beer can pyramid on the coffee table. They noticed. 54 lbs. Dang. My Doomsday scenario didn’t even consider a fiasco at the check-in counter! How bad could this potentially get? I was sure I would end the day sitting behind a 2-way glass.

So now what? do we pay the $50 fee for the heavy bag? No. Kendra gets the first bag from the agent and starts shuffling things around and moving things from the big bag to the small one. Of course, a line starts forming now as all the people who didn’t book flights at an ungodly hour are now starting to arrive early to check in. Kendra makes an adjustment and we slide the big bag back on the scale. 49 lbs! One of the baggage handlers who has been watching the shuffle steps over. The top lid of the bag was open causing a corner of the bag to hang on the edge of the scale. He flips the lid closed and adjusts it. 51 lbs. The agent is ready to give us the “close enough” when they have a side bar discussion, like two officials discussing a crucial penalty in the final seconds of a football game. I hear him say “50 lbs is 50 lbs”, and the ticket agent turns to us with the “I can’t hook you up because my manager is standing right here” face and tells us we need to make further adjustments or pay the fee. The line is growing.

Undaunted, Kendra returns her focus to lightening the load. Agents and nearby passengers are calling out recommendations “move the books”, “take that sweater”… sounded like an episode of Let’s Make a Deal (a show that not coincidentally featured my aforementioned mother-in-law). Kendra pulls through and successfully gets us to the 50 lb mark. Supermom tucked in her cape, grabbed the stroller, and we sped off toward security. As we headed to the agent podium, the sinking feeling grew. We were getting close now… We already had the stumbling block with the luggage. What would be next?

We undressed and went through Checkpoint Charlie in an orderly fashion. Kendra broke down the BoB and placed it on the conveyor belt. The hand pump fell out of the carrier basket on the way through. A security agent called another over to examine. I knew this would be it… they laughed it off and helped us get our stuff together. I began to relax a little and thought maybe there would be no catastrophe at all. Maybe this trip would go smoothly and the boys would be fine for those 4.5 hrs. They would probably just fall asleep when the excitement wore off. Yeah. Nothing to worry about. “Sir, I need you to step over to that table so we can look through these bags”. I turned to see a security agent holding Jaden’s and Dillon’s backpacks. I looked over to them. Stone faced. They had their story together, no doubt. I was thinking that I would probably need my own representation if I were to avoid hard time. I was fairly sure Kendra would sell me out for the kids… she would have to. I headed over to the security table imagining what they might end up finding in those bags and wondering if my mind was awake enough to talk my way out of it. Yeah. I was pulling for the individual holding cells.