First of all let me shed some light on my defunct state of mind in regards to travel; I don’t mean to lead one to believe that there’s anything wrong with the way in which I mentally address changes in location, but merely give a brief insight into my train of thought, or rather lack thereof in this case. I have a tendency not to perceive change until well after it has occurred; this relates directly to the manner in which I respond to travel as it fits within the realm of change, at least geographically if not also culturally. This being said, I am conscious of impending change and fully present in the moment in which said change commences.
The defunct nature to which I have previously made reference comes into play through my mental perception of change. Though I am aware of the transition, no emotions are directly tied to the alteration in my physical or situational alteration. What herein follows is a disjointed reality in which the experiences that I participate in occur in an entirely different environment to what I have come accustomed to, but my mind hasn’t quite come along for the ride. A rather otherworldly state is therefore created to compensate for my mental retardation. I’m not completely certain how much good this description does for the reader, but I hoped that it may help one embody the following events through a similar lens as I had harnessed when experiencing them.
Flight has always been an enjoyable occasion for me, even when the situation may tend to inform against such optimistic outlooks. As such, I checked in, passed through security and boarded the Boeing 737 to Melbourne in a completely relaxed state. We left the ground on time and without a single hiccup. The Australian coastline smiled back at me as I gazed upon it from my window seat and soon after the cheerful stewardesses supplied me with a delicious carrot cake accompanied by a bottle of juice. Even for those who find air travel unfavorable, this would have had to rank as a thoroughly enjoyable experience.
Of course, it was too good to be true. The child sitting in the row behind us grew restless and let out a scream to wake me from my peaceful slumber that I had drifted into. Dannielle was seated beside me, directly in front of the child, and apparently her seat wished to be reclined at all times, regardless of her desires. Perhaps the chair was aware of the child’s antsy state and wished to serve as an accomplice to his experimentation in the trying our patience for the child quickly transformed the back of Dannielle’s chair into a springboard for propelling himself off of his own seat. Apparently the child was also in training to become a puppeteer as he paraded a miniature representation of Ronald McDonald across the top of Dannielle’s head.
Amazingly Dannielle had no negative reaction to the child hijacking her comfortable seat and expropriating her skull; I commend her self-restraint. This foray does not end there though; as we began to descend toward Melbourne the child, or rather annoyance filled sack of skin, found it imperative to let everyone know of the pressure differential occurring in his auditory center, or as he put it over and over again, “Mommy my ears are popping, mommy my ears are popping, etc.”
Now I realize that the subject in question is a child, actually an infant, and cannot be expected to understand issues of physics and anatomy in relation to varying dimensions of altitude, but I have never come across an individual with such an elongated period of auditory pressure equalization (ear popping). We landed, taxied to the gate, unloaded, picked up our baggage, and he was still reiterating his original statement. However, there was a brighter side to all of this as Dannielle pointed out to me; close encounters with unruly infants operate as a free and easy form of birth control for all those within earshot.
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