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Pretzels, Peeing, and A Free Ride
I went to Kansas this weekend with my sister, Reed, on what was really my first trip while looking the part of The Pregnant One. I’ve traveled while pregnant, but it wasn’t quite as noticeable then as it is now. I didn’t think it would be that different. I figured that instead of being kind of awkward when slinking down airline aisles, I would now be super awkward and almost dangerous when carrying bags. I learned over the course of two days however, that traveling pregnant is like opening a portal into a world where the sunbeams shine, the birds sing, and everyone can’t help but smile.
The first indication of something being different was on our flight to Kansas City. Reed graciously took the middle seat so I could have the aisle seat as it was easy access to the bathroom and much easier to semi-elephant-gracefully plop down into. When the flight attendant came to take drink orders I asked if by any chance there were pretzels I could have instead of the peanuts they were offering. Big smile, and an of course! from the flight attendant. I got up to pee and when I got back to my seat the flight attendant was standing there saying something to Reed and holding my drink. I sat down to two bags of pretzels on my tray and a very apologetic flight attendant saying how sorry she was, but she ran out of pretzels and had instructed another flight attendant to bring some right over. I said no problem, (as I already had two bags) thanked her, and took my drink.
Reed just looked at me. Apparently the flight attendant was beside herself when I was gone because there weren’t enough pretzels and would not trust Reed with holding my drink, instead insisting on holding it until I returned. Might seem over cautious, but I say good show to the flight attendant as you never know what my family might slip in a drink when they have to fly with me.
Saturday evening, we were in a store when Reed really had to pee. I’d like to be able to make some snide remark about how it was the non-pregnant sister who had to pee, but seeing as the reason I didn’t have to pee that badly was probably because I’d already peed about five times during the two hour car trip, I don’t think I have much room to be snide. So we’re in this very small store that clearly does not have a public restroom and a salesgirl asks us if she can help us. My back is to her and I hear Reed ask if by any chance there is a restroom we could use. The salesgirls hems and haws a little but says yeah, she guesses so, at which point I turn around and say “oh gosh, thanks, that would be WONDERFUL!” The salesgirl nearly falls over herself at seeing The Pregnant One and starts saying oh, we should have said something sooner and OF COURSE we can use their restroom and quickly rushes us back to the employees only section where she reveals the vaulted bathroom. You could almost hear her heart squeal.
I asked her advice on names, she gave me a few dozen, found out her favorite name for a girl is Lily (that’s my name! I replied) and my entire purchase ended up being 50% off. Reed bought a mug and graciously did not shatter it over my head.
Sunday morning we returned our car to the airport. The Kansas City airport has a rental car terminal. An actual terminal dedicated to rental cars. This means everybody gets on a bus and is bussed out to the rental car terminal together where they then disperse to their various rental car companies. When you return your car, same deal, but in reverse. Drop the car off, walk to the terminal, wait for the bus. Not when you travel with The Pregnant One. We dropped our car off and were in the process of getting all of our luggage and cleaning it out when the rental car guy said, do you guys want a ride to the terminal? yeah. Let us do that. It will save you guys lots of time and you don’t have to wait around. He calls one of the other workers and instructs him to valet us to the terminal. Literal door to door service.
We are on our way home, at the check-in counter getting our boarding passes and checked baggage tag and I finish first, then wait for Reed. She comes up to me with papers flying, trying to keep together all of her boarding passes and tags and id and such together. I hold up my airline envelope that the agent put together for me and stapled my baggage tag to and ask, didn’t she get one? She said no, and kindly refrained from stapling my envelope to my head.
On the flight back however, as I was basking in the glow of traveling pregnant, I watched as the flight attendant stopped a poor mother on her way up to change her baby’s diaper in the lavatory and told her she was not allowed to do it in the front lavatory, only the back, she’d have to turn around now.
And the clouds became dark. And the birds stopped singing. And the smiles were gone. Because in a few months? There is no traveling as The Pregnant One. There is traveling as The Woman With That Baby. And that traveling is filled with angry looks, annoyed eye rolls, and snorts when I ask for pretzels.