Editor’s Note: We’re digging into our ample archives to find some great articles you might have missed over the years. This one comes from 2014.

Never did I think the person holding a screaming baby on a cross-country flight taking off at 5:30 a.m. would be me.

Yet there I was, returning to New York City with body odor ripening as my deodorant quickly vanished under the stress of what would be the flight from hell.

Ah, the joys of flying with your baby.

“Why me, God? What did I do to deserve this?” I thought while people searched for their seats and visibly prayed it wasn’t next to this dude with a 1-year-old screaming for freedom from his Baby Bjorn.

When the couple sitting next to me realized they were stuck with us, I apologized in an attempt to win some sympathy. It didn’t work. All I got in return was a look of disapproval.

After everyone buckled in and the lights dimmed for the takeoff of our five-hour flight, I followed our pediatrician’s advice and gave my son an eight-ounce bottle of milk. It was the first time since I woke him at 4 a.m. that he was silent. During those brief 10 minutes, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and calmed down.

It was then I realized nobody was going to say anything to my face and, besides, who cares what other people are thinking? If someone said something about me and my caterwauling baby son it would made them look like an ass. We were simply trying to get home.

Once I calmed down I could feel my son, who was strapped facing forward on my chest, fall asleep. I took another deep breath, closed my eyes, and slept for about an hour.

That’s when I had to use the bathroom.

The screaming baby airplane bathroom blues

When I closed the bathroom door the only thing I was thankful for was that I am not claustrophobic. Have airplane bathrooms shrunk? Maneuvering inside such a small space with a 22-pound kid strapped to you is like doing yoga inside a box.

My first option was to take my son out and place him on the floor while I peed. That thought went down the toilet when I looked down and saw water. And probably worse.

The second option: pee with him still strapped on. I hate to admit it but this wasn’t the first time I’ve done this. So how bad could it be?

I had to maneuver around to avoid peeing all over my son. Wailing soon ensued and my nerves shot through the low, slanted roof as I attempted to relieve myself. I was astonished that I managed to shoot in the right direction. “Damn I’m good,” I thought as I zipped up.

Now, time to change my screaming baby boy.

As I searched aimlessly around the small space for a changing table, I started to think I was still half-asleep. I splashed some water in my face to try and snap out of it. After another fruitless attempt, I opened the door to ask the flight attendant for help.

“This particular plane doesn’t have baby changing tables,” he said.

I closed the door, closed my eyes and took a deep breath. All I have to do is be quick about this, I thought. Piece of cake.

I took my son out of the Baby Bjorn and turned him toward me. “Sorry. There is no changing table so we’re going to have to do this old school on the toilet,” I said. I hugged him, placed the changing pad on the toilet lid then placed him on top. He had this look on his face of “what the hell are you doing to me?” that reminded me of Stewie from Family Guy.

Then he slipped off the toilet seat.

I imagined people in the last 10 rows of the plane hearing his screeching and thinking the worst. Sweat dripped from my forehead while I got him off the pee-covered floor. I cursed United Airlines.

After finally changing my son, I looked at myself squarely in the mirror and vowed out loud to myself, “Never again will I fly alone with my child.”

I know one thing is for sure, next time I see a father flying alone with a screaming baby I will go out of my way to say hello, tell him what my experience was like, and offer whatever assistance I can.

Photo: © Irina Schmidt / Adobe Stock.

By the time I settled into my seat, my flight had already been delayed twice. I took a deep breath, trying hard not to notice that if my flight had left on time, I’d be home hugging my kids by now.

It’s OK. I had an awesome two-day getaway with some fellow dads. This was the price: four flights in 48 hours. I was at peak exhaustion now, peak frustration. Maybe even peak hangover.

Then I saw the crew who would be sitting behind me.

As a father of three, I’m sympathetic to the perils of those traveling with young kids, especially on a plane. My wife and I took three children from Cincinnati to Honolulu, after all. A long day of air travel with kids is a grind. People aren’t always nice, and kids, well, they’re kids. That is why when a family with two kids, roughly 4 and 6 years of age, occupied the seats behind me, I didn’t really think too much of it. I had seen this group in the terminal, and they all seemed perfectly reasonable.

Yeah … about that.

Humans aren’t really meant to jam themselves shoulder to shoulder in a thin, metal tube and be hurtled through the atmosphere via flame and thrust. Adults accept this as part of modern life. Kids aren’t so enlightened. Therefore, they intuitively know, deep down in their DNA, when the door of a plane closes, it’s time to freak the hell out.

Getting their kicks

First, I began to feel a lot of pressure in my lower back. I tried to convince myself I was in an experimental massage chair, but the 6-year-old girl behind me was just kicking my seat. It was firm. Inconsistent. Sometimes violent.

I patiently waited for one of the adults to ask her to stop. Surely these reasonable parents would notice the constant pounding on the back of my seat, and surely (don’t call me Shirley!) they are the type of reasonable parents who don’t want their kids annoying passengers on a full flight. I mean, that’s what you’d do, right? Right!?

Yeah … about that.

Even after I made eye contact with the dad, the kicking continued. My eyes clearly but silently said, “Hey man, I get it. This sucks. I’ve been there, and I feel your frustration, but could you please ask your kid to stop kicking my seat?” OK — an objective reading of my mask-covered face would probably read more like, “If your kid keeps kicking my seat, we may need an air marshal. Or a parachute. Possibly both.”

With the comedy of Bill Burr in my headphones, I decided to let his voice take me away from the constant pounding on my lower back. I turned the volume of the Netflix comedy special up to drown out the bickering and screaming.

What I really couldn’t handle, though — the silence of the parents. I accept that kids can be a handful, but permissive parents set my blood to boil. The only thing keeping me from letting these two know how I felt about their parenting style was the awareness of being trapped on a plane in a time of great tension and unruly plane passengers. As much as I think my handsome face deserves 15 minutes of fame, I really didn’t want it to be via a mugshot after being forcibly removed from an airplane. All I could think about was Ben Stiller finally cracking in Meet The Parents, and shouting, “Bomb, bomb, bombity bomb bomb!”

When the plane landed, things got really serious

The 4-year-old boy got physical. He thrashed and kicked. He reached up to hit the flight attendant call button. Sometimes he was in the aisle next to me, his head and legs crashing into me and other passengers. Again, the parents did not intervene.

He started screaming and yelling, pushing against the immovable line of people in front, spinning around and bashing his backpack against everyone and everything. At this point, the parents finally tried to stop him. His resistance increased.

Deplaning flight a real pain in the …

The dad asked the mom to control the kid, and the mom calmly explained that if she physically restrained him, things would get worse. She was right, of course, but we had all had it by then. There was no sympathy to be found. After this kid shoved his head straight up my ass, pushing me forward while providing a complimentary rectal exam, I finally let out, “C’mon!? Geeez!”

Yeah, I know. Not much of an outburst in the grand scheme of things. But the defeated look in the eyes of his parents immediately made me regret my outburst.

Eventually, we cleared out. And, naturally, I found myself right next to the dad on the tram connecting the gates to the terminal. We made eye contact, but he looked away. At this point, in empathy, I should’ve apologized. I should’ve offered words of encouragement to my fellow dad.

Yeah … about that.

I didn’t say anything. That I regret. I should have said, “Well, that was fun, but it’s over now.” Anything. Just some words to diffuse the tension. Just some words to make him feel like he wasn’t a failure, that we all didn’t hate him, and that other parents felt empathy and not judgment. Instead, I stood there, silently, with angry, judgmental eyes.

This man didn’t curse at his kids. He didn’t raise his hand with a threat of violence. No “I’ll beat your ass when you get home.” Isn’t that a victory that should be celebrated?

In a world of anger and violence, these parents did their best to keep their kids as calm as possible. Sure, I was annoyed, and I didn’t agree with their methods, but who am I to decide for another dad how he should treat his kids? If I’m honest, my kids are great most of the time, but every now and then they are soul-crushing monsters who listen to nothing but the wild adolescent voices in their heads. In those moments I encourage you to offer empathy, kindness, grace. Maybe even a beer. Remind your fellow dads, fellow parents and fellow humans that we really are in this together. And maybe, just maybe we’ll change the world.

And maybe, just maybe, next time I’ll climb over my seat and start kicking that little girl’s seat until she learns a valuable lesson.

Just kidding. But keep a lookout for my mug shot — just in case.

Flight photo: © Konstantin Yuganov /  Adobe Stock.

Naturally, after a moment of concern for our daughter’s well-being, we did what any responsible parents would do in a crisis: we blamed each other.
_________________

Think you know everything about those tiny airplane bathrooms? Think again.

When flying with our two young children years ago, my wife and I discovered a little-known but highly valuable feature of those bathrooms, at least on our particular plane. But first, a story.

Our two daughters were ages 6 and 3 at the time. Like most parents, we dreaded that anything-can-happen stage of flying with children when wild imaginings of public parenting emergencies compel you to stash all-purpose wipes in every available location of your carry-on luggage and your person.

Fortunately, most of the flight proceeded pleasantly. The girls entertained themselves for the most part, but when they didn’t I kept them occupied with two simple games that, in hindsight, I would not recommend.

The first involved a deck of tiny cards about the size of an adult thumbprint. While impossible to retrieve when they fell off that little seatback tray, the cards did teach me that my 6-year-old was becoming savvy in the less-than-good ways of the world. After a few rounds of blackjack, she kicked back in her seat and said, “Man, it’s like Vegas in here!”

The second game I would not recommend when flying with children is “I Spy.” This game is very effective on Earth; however, when you are looking out the window of an airplane at nothing but blue sky and brown land, you can guess the repetitive result: “I spy something blue (or brown).” The game became inappropriate when my daughter switched to scenes within the plane, leading to comments about ever-so-near passengers like “I spy something yellow on that man’s shirt.” Mercifully, the flight ended shortly after I ended “I Spy.”

Then came the parenting emergency.

We had just reached that moment when the pilot turns off the fasten seatbelt sign and everyone rushes to stand up and gather belongings, even though no one can actually exit the plane for several more minutes. During the shuffle, my 3-year-old decided to run into the tiny bathroom nearest our seats. My wife and I both saw her go in there, but in the confusion neither of us realized that the door was about to close by itself.

In other words, we allowed my 3-year–old to accidently lock herself in the bathroom.

Naturally, after a moment of concern for our daughter’s well-being, we did what any responsible parents would do in a crisis: we blamed each other. Surprisingly, that did not improve the situation.

So, I began trying to coax my daughter into unlocking the door from her side. She started to cry, saying she couldn’t reach the latch. I was trying not to panic, but I knew that given all the passengers in the aisle we were at least at least 10 minutes from the flight attendant reaching us along with any tools like a screwdriver or the “Jaws of Life.”

After a few more moments of anxiety and embarrassment, a godlike voice intervened as if from above. It boomed: “I’m a dad, and I have two daughters. I think I can help.”

As we turned around, we saw a large man approaching whom we hoped wasn’t from Family Services. Instead, he explained that a small plate on the door (at about adult eye level) could be pulled back to reveal a latch that would unlock the door. I followed his instructions, and sure enough it worked.

If your children ever lock themselves in an airplane bathroom, you now have a piece of MacGyveresque knowledge. The only drawback? It may put a damper on any plans to join the Mile High Club.

Our family recently spent some extra time in the airport.

About 7 hours extra to be exact.

Not the longest amount of time someone has spent in the airport, but it was challenging to say the least. And out of that experience, a list was born. I give you:

50 things you can do with kids during a flight delay

1. Panic
2. Watch other planes take off and land.
3. Grab an overpriced snack.
4. Color pictures with markers.
5. Allow a child to color himself with markers.
6. Create a tower with the markers.
7. Walk/run laps around the concourse.
8. Take the child to the bathroom.
9. Buy another overpriced snack/drink.
10. Take the child to the bathroom again.
11. Watch more planes take off and land.
12. Listen to your child ask if “that” plane is going to take you home. Cry a little – on the inside.
13. Walk some more.
14. Make friends with other families stuck in the airport.
15. Play hide and go seek behind the column in the concourse.
16. Tweet the airline.
17. Wait for the airline to respond.
18. Watch Netflix on the free WiFi.
19. Go to the bathroom.
20. Check the time.
21. Read a book. Like the whole thing. Russian novel length.
22. Charge all of your electronic devices.
23. Cry.
24. Start an epic rock/paper/scissors tournament with strangers. Winner gets an overpriced drink.
25. Read emails.
26. Get emails from airline telling you that you flight has been moved up.
27. Celebrate.
28. Get an email from airline stating that your flight has been moved back again.
29. Weep tears of sorrow set to the score of a melodramatic film.
30. Try to take a nap.
31. Have nap interrupted.
32. Play “Duck, duck, GOOSE” at and empty gate. By yourself.
33. Mentally rewrite Star Wars Episode I in your head. First change – no Jar Jar.
34. Recite all the numbers of Pi that you know. (3.1….repeating 4 Done.)
35. Try to name all 50 states within two minutes.
36. List all college teams with a singular noun mascot.
37. Take kids on another set of laps.
38. Try to recreate the Indy 500 in the airport concourse with strangers. Use markers to create numbers on your arm and draw sponsor logos. Winner gets overpriced beverage.
39. Try to get the kids to nap.
40. Give up on the idea of the kids napping and find something else to do.
41. Start a concourse lottery system.
42. Start a secret high five club, but only high four. Anyone who slaps five is not in the club.
43. Start writing an asinine list of 50 things to do while waiting for during a flight delay.
44. Randomly yell “Punch Bug” and slug a stranger in the shoulder. Oh, and run.
45. Moonwalk on the people mover belt while shouting “Wooooooooo” and “Cham’on.” At the end of the belt jump and land on your toes MJ style.
46. Find a passenger traveling with a dog and announce to everyone that the drug dog is here. See who runs for cover.
47. Approach adult children traveling with their parents and tell them, “No, Luke. I am your father!” And then walk away.
48. Try to find Waldo, or someone named Waldo.
49. Ask strangers “Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar?”
50. Grab the mic at one of the empty gates and start an acapella karaoke sing off. Tell the winner they are going to Hollywood.
51. (Bonus) Get on your plane and go home.