One Last One on Long Haul Flights with Kids

I realise we may have written quite a few posts on the long haul flight with kids theme but you really can’t talk about this topic enough, given the trauma involved.  For those obliged to, or choosing to commit the insanity that is the Europe-Australia 30 hour long-haul flight with infant, you can never be prepared or forewarned enough. Besides, I feel like I’m suffering from some form of post-traumatic stress disorder and I need to talk about it. They say talking helps. And alcohol. Someone pass me a whisky.

I only barely boarded the flight back to The Continent. I swore to my husband, who returned to Madrid from Australia two weeks before me, that I could not make the flight back alone with Monkey — and that I would see him back in Europe in several months time, once my two month boat cruise with ample deck space, luxury suite, child care facilities and daily stopovers had docked in the nearest seaport to Madrid. While I surprised myself by actually taking my return flight and completing it without throwing myself out of the window or having a complete mental meltdown (although there was a small meltdown, with tears), I have some very serious caveats on recommending anyone ever attempt this stunt alone and most certainly before I will repeat it myself.

Caveat 1: I will NEVER take a flight that is not 100% direct ever again. While the 22 hours in the air will nearly kill you, it’s the additional stopovers, multiple security checks and transit waits that really put the nails in the coffin.  All those other stopovers I thought I could live with to save myself a couple of hundred dollars, well, they can go.  It probably would have been healthier to eat a couple of hundred dollars.  Although I don’t know why anyone would do that. On the way to Aus, the Madrid to London flight and two hour wait in London meant we had been travelling five hours before we even started to head in the right direction.  On the way back: Melbourne-Sydney-Singapore-Frankfurt-Madrid.  That’s a lot of up and down and a lot of customs (high five to Sydney customs staff who refused to hold baby or assist in any way while asking me to remove harness and juggle baby). Never mind if something goes even remotely haywire, like say a volcano in Iceland.  At the end of a 26-30 hour trip, one is NOT equipped to deal with it.  If I, like other unfortunates on my flight, had had to go overland for 30 hours to get from Frankfurt home, well, I would not be here writing this post from Madrid.  I would probably still be in Frankfurt, refusing to leave.

Caveat 2: I will not board a flight unless I know I have a bassinet, an extra seat, or both.  What’s more , once Monkey weighs over the 11kg maximum for the bassinet I will not fly without purchasing a seat for him.  I previously thought buying a seat for a child when you could take one for free was an act of largess beyond my means. Not now. Now I would quite like a bassinet AND an empty seat at my disposal, thank you very much. Did you know you’re not guaranteed a bassinet? I didn’t. Really. You are not even guaranteed a seat with space in front of it such as the emergency exit row.  Even if you check in very early.  They can and will put you in one of the normal squashy seats, with no room to move your own elbows let alone the body of a small child, not to mention the plethora of equipment, food, nappies etc to which you need constant access.  And I don’t think I need to point out that if you have a baby on your lap with no bassinet for it to sit or sleep in, you will not be accepting any meals. You also will not be able to be able to go to the toilet without asking someone to help you. In fact any time you need anything — to make a bottle, get food down from your bag, change a nappy — someone is going to have to hold the baby for you.  I can’t believe they actually accept bookings for one ticket with infant if they are not able to give you a bassinet.  But they do.  I was actually assigned a normal seat — no basinette, no front row or emergency row additional space, and certainly not next to an empty seat.  I cried.  It was kind of embarassing, but the lovely flight staff moved me to an empty row of seats with bassinette.  Not sure what I did to get the person off side at check-in and why they didn’t just give me the available seats with basinette first.  Weird.  Anyway, it was all better than OK in the end.  Thank you, thank you kind, kind Qantas steward who not only didn’t say something like ‘what’s wrong, are you crying because you don’t have a seat for your infant because you didn’t pay for one?’, which would have been kind of true, but instead said so kindly ‘Are you feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all?’, which is incredibly perceptive and sooo nice, (where did this man come from?) AND he brought me a box of tissues. Anyway, lovely hosties aside, the whole risk of no bassinet-no emergency row-no spare seat-infant on lap for 24 hours plus-thing is simply too scary for words. Check in online if you can.  Check in early — although like I proved, that’s no guarantee. So also beg. And pray.

Caveat 3: I will have a one week stopover at Asian Beach Resort for at least one of the trips to or from Australia. There will be daily massages. And child care.

Caveat 4: I will be ready with a stinging retort for the Bad Hostie. In contrast to Lovely Hostie and the generally lovely Qantas staff I interacted with on my return flight, on the hell trip over, after a reasonably successful 20 hours, Monkey proceeded to cry, protest, wriggle and complain for eight straight hours.  All the lights were down. There was nowhere to take him to entertain him.  You can imagine how much we were enjoying that.  An air steward asked me if I could, “keep my little boy quiet, he’s quite loud”.  I can only presume he risked his life because he could see I had my hands full and couldn’t strike with any immediate speed or efficacy.  Whilst my speechless glare may have spoken a thousand words. Or just two, starting with F and ending with you, I would quite like to have said something witty and stinging. Don’t we always?

Caveat 5: I will have a zero to light social engagements calendar for the first week of arrival. The time difference meant that for five straight nights The Monkey was up from midnight to 6am with NO CHANCE of sleep. By the end of the second week we were down to waking for a full bottle at 1am and waking for no particular reason but returning to sleep after some coaxing and some baby panadol at 5am (he was also teething, nice timing). Almost back to sleeping through at the end of four weeks, just in time to change the time zone again.  Next time, there will be a week in hiding on arrival, mostly made up of sleeping on the beach. And I’m still not sure I’d do it again.  If anyone can recommend a good boat cruise, I’m all ears.  

photo credit: insouciance

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