THE PRECARIOUS ADVENTURE OF FLYING WITH A TODDLER

I was so excited as we entered San Diego’s Lindbergh International Airport and ready for our overnight haul to London. My husband and I had planned for as much as we possibly could for the journey across the pond and felt like we were more than prepared for our trip.  Then we arrived at the check-in counter and Gibson didn’t have a ticket.

Seven months before our excursions, I had purchased our tickets through American Airlines.  We were going to use frequent flyer miles, but as it turned out, tickets to the UK were extremely affordable at that time.  This was not my first time flying with Gibson, and I am used to the additional task of calling the airline and adding Gibson to our itinerary.  I had proceeded to do the same for this trip, well aware from reading blogs and forums that I should be prepared to pay the taxes and fees for Gibson's flight, since he was under two years of age.  As I spoke to the women at American Airlines and Gibson was added to my itinerary, I asked about this payment stipulation.  I did not want to be caught off guard at the ticketing counter at the time of our departure.  The lady responded that Gibson was on my itinerary, but she was not showing anything for his payment.  I asked her again, “Are you sure I don’t need to pay anything? I was under the impression that I needed to pay the taxes, but not the cost of a ticket.”  She responded, “It doesn’t look like you have to pay anything in addition to your son.  Everything looks great, you're all set.”  Ma’am, really, I am all set?  I hung up my phone and was so excited about our trip, but wary about the lack of payment.  I checked my itinerary every few days just to make sure Gibson was on there. Sure enough, he was, and as the months went by, I didn’t take any other course of action with our tickets, but felt a lingering worry that something did not seem right.

So, then there we were, standing at the British Airways ticketing counter, and Gibson had no ticket.  I do need to mention that the British Airways people were amazing, top-notch, and pretty much saved our trip, but more on them later.  After about twenty to thirty minutes of confusion with BA and their computers not being able to find or add a ticket for Gibson on an AA itinerary, we were told that we needed to go to the American Airlines counter to purchase a ticket for him.  I knew it.  We were sent to the other counter with a warning that the British Airways counter would close at 7:40 pm, and they would not be able to get us to our flight after that time.  I looked at my watch. 7 pm exactly.  Both Dustin and I could feel each other’s anxiety, but thankfully, we both had enough wits about us to stay calm with each other.  Now, toward the lady manning the American Airlines counter, we let out some of our fury.  Not only were we confined to a single line for non-first-class flights, but there was only one gentleman helping everyone.  Dustin and I are not the type of people to cut in line or make a scene, but our worry was continuing to rise and this particular lady took us aback.  We literally ran from British Airways to the American Airlines counter and walked right up to it.  

Dustin sharply said, “We need to buy a ticket for our son.  Our flight leaves at 8:40 pm.”  “Do you have a first-class ticket?” the lady asked bluntly.  Both Dustin and I blurted out, “No, but we just need to buy a ticket for our son, we are ready to pay, we just…” “All non-first class tickets must stand in the other line,” she interrupted harshly.  “But we…” “No! All other passengers must be in the other line.”  We fell in line behind four of our five other groups of people, momentarily subdued, at 7:14 pm.

We stood in line, watching the lady.  Not a single person walked up to the first class counter where the lady stood, but they were fifth in a line that continued to grow.  Dustin and I fumed.  I let out a little steam as I explained our behavior to the couple behind us.  They, too, were frustrated.  The machine would not check their bags.  Frustrations all around.  7:22 pm.

We finally reached the front of the line, and the gentleman was kind enough, but he did not understand what we needed.  “I don’t even know how to process your request,” he said.  We wanted to pay the taxes for a ticket but not purchase a ticket.  He couldn’t help us.  Dustin called American Airlines customer service and was told to expect a one-hour wait.  Not a good sign.  The gentleman also called the home office from his end and was put on hold.  In a move I later considered heroic, the man, seeing the growing line, wanted to help as many people as possible.  He gave his phone to Dustin and told him to tell him when someone was on the other line, then he quickly ran over to help manually check the bags of other travelers—7:26 pm.  

We waited for a couple of minutes with Dustin standing with two phones, one to each ear.  He and I looked at each other and telepathically communicated, “It’s ok. I am calm. I am here with you. It’s going to work out.  Have faith.” Light crept into Dustin’s eyes, and he started waving wildly to the American Airlines gentleman.  Someone was on the other line of the phone behind the counter.  The heroic gentleman quickly returned to the counter and retrieved his phone.  After less than a minute of conversation, he told us that indeed, they could process our request.  Dustin and I both let out a deep sigh—7:30 pm.  I told Dustin I would walk back over to the British Airways counter and let them know that American Airlines was processing our son’s ticket.  With luggage in hand and pushing Gibson in the stroller, I quickly returned to our previous destination.  I looked at my watch, 7:32 pm.  The funny thing is that I was completely calm at this point.  I knew that we would make our flight.  It was as if the Lord graced me with assurance that I could not have fathomed at a different time or place.  “Have faith.”  I felt it at that moment.

Another hero of this story is the manager of the British Airways counter, Sauna.  She was amazing.  After my communication with American Airlines processing Gibson’s ticket, Sauna navigated one of her employees to the last ticketing counter.  “Shut down all counters, I will see you all at the gate,” she said aloud to the group, but to the gentleman she had stationed at the last counter, she firmly stated, “Keep this counter open, get them checked in and on this flight.  When you are done, shut it down and head immediately to the gate.”  I could have hugged that woman if she hadn’t been darting off toward what I could only assume were the directions of the gates—7:36 pm.

“Come on, Dustin, where are you?” I said to myself.  I couldn’t help it, I looked at my watch again. 7:37 pm. 7:38 pm.  Finally, I saw Dustin give me a nod in the positive, albeit with a serious face, as he rushed across the airport lobby toward us.  He had no idea how much American Airlines had charged him, whether once or three times.  We would figure it out later.  We were checked in for our flight, and then a second journey awaited us: security and boarding.  Fortunately, at that time of night, the security line was running smoothly and quickly.  We had just enough time to purchase water and a neck pillow and use the restroom before our flight started boarding.  As we arrived at the gate, we saw all the familiar faces that so graciously took care of us only an hour before.  I saw Sauna overseeing everyone being checked in, and as we were about to enter the gate, she stopped us and said she was glad to see we made the flight and hoped we had a wonderful trip.  By this time, I was so fatigued by the stress of our recent encounter that I no longer had adrenaline pumping through my veins.  I could only quietly respond, “Thank you.”  My response was not nearly enough to convey my feelings or my appreciation for all the help we received from the British Airways team.  

I learned many lessons from just these few hours that began our travels abroad.  Know what the stipulations are for traveling with a child under two.  If someone does not seem to know what they are talking about on the phone, call back and speak to someone else. For international trips, arrive at least three hours before departure.  We thought we were set to arrive at 6:40 pm (two hours before our flight), but our experience fell short.  Of course, we took this approach when we were at Heathrow, on our way back to the States.  We arrived four hours early, but of course, everything went smoothly.  

Another lesson I learned was to purchase tickets and communicate solely with British Airways and not American Airlines.  Although the two airlines are partners, their customer service was astronomically different.  Where I received a “no” at American Airlines, I received a “yes” at British Airways.  Where I received action and help from British Airways, I received inaction and obliviousness from American Airlines.  To be fair, the gentleman who helped us was truly helpful.  Although he was unable to process our request on his own, he took steps to find someone who could.  All that being said, I would be wary of traveling abroad again through American Airlines.  

Needless to say, we were a bit exhausted when we boarded our overnight flight to London.  We found our seats, neatly situated with a baby cot, and started to settle in.  Now that the upheaval and drama from the ticket counter had passed, Dustin and I could share our astonishment and how relieved we were to be aboard.  I remember us also thanking each other for staying calm and not lashing out at each other.  It was a very notable moment in our marriage.  It was one of the rare times when we worked together against a great obstacle, united by shared strength and determination.  We were one entity, not needing to share all our thoughts nor step on the other’s toes to emphasize points.  We understood each other without speaking and came to the other's aid without provocation—truly a lovely moment amidst turmoil.  

This was just the beginning of our journey to Europe.  Through it all, Gibson was calm and quiet.  He started to get antsy as we neared 7:40 pm, our deadline, and after being in a stroller for close to an hour, I couldn’t blame him for his restlessness.  Gibson’s calm behavior during our travel in San Diego also foreshadowed his behavior throughout our travels in Europe. He did fairly well during all the time on planes and trains.  Even with the chaos, Dustin and I saw our time at the airport as a positive moment for our trip.  Surely, the hardest challenge of the journey had passed, and now we could enjoy ourselves. Nope, more challenges and scares awaited us on our journey, but more on those stories when I share my travelogues from Europe.

Do you have a crazy story about traveling with a toddler?  What lessons have you learned from traveling abroad with children?