United Airlines Hates You

So we're here (and have been for almost a week). There are things that one forgets about when traveling across oceans with a family. The first is the flight. Now, don't get me wrong, the Trans-Atlantic flight was considerably shorter than its Trans-Pacific counterpart. This, unfortunatly, does not make it "better". We flew United. Allow me to let you, dear reader, in on a little secret: United hates its passengers. They wouldn't let anyone on the airplane aside from the haughty, over-made up staff if it weren't for those pesky problems of revenue and staying in business... oh wait, aren't they in a bankruptcy restructuring? That must explain the flight attendents on our flight... with rising fuel costs, United must trim some corners to increase their profit. The program aparently being tested for our flight: how much money can we save by hiring staff without personality, common sense, or a shred of empathy. Jaime hauls our two kids (kicking and screeming, by the way, more on that later...) up to the desk to ask about pre-boarding for families. Answer: we don't do that. So instead of having me board 10 minutes early, when no-one else is on the plane, they have us wait for our "zone" to be called. The end result, you ask? Me taking two trips down the over-sold aisles with car seats boucing off every single passenger's head. Oh, and I made damn sure that the ass clowns in business class each got a taste as I walked through... first trip: Nathan's car-seat. Everyone on my right got the bottom of his seat bounced off their foreheads. Everyone on my left got my sweaty ass rubbed on their shoulders. Help? Me? No, don't bother even asking! I'd LOVE to walk all the way back up to the jetway to get the second car seat, my wife, two kids, and seven backpacks. I only wish we had decided to bring the cat in the damn cabin with us like the oh-so-helpful desk monkey suggested. So... second trip: Sydney's car-seat. The self-rightous jerks down the left side of the airplane thought they had skated by scot-free from this red-faced, sweaty, fatass hauling his gypsy family to Europe. (This was one of those "two aisle with 7 seats in the middle" jets... whoever designed that seat layout deserves to have his hands cut off). "HA!" to them! Wanting to make my pain felt by ALL, I chose the left aisle, and because I'm not without some empathy myself, I switched it up. The people in the middle got the car seat bounced off their stupid skulls, and the people on the outside got the sweaty crack treatment on their shoulders. (I figured, this way, I could bring some people together in the otherwise miserable middle row:

"Hey, did you see that crazy red-faced guy bounce his gypsy car-seat off my skull?" Says the uber-cool Euro-nerd, looking over his thick, black plastic framed glasses.

"Car seat?! You got off easy, buddy. You don't think that was the same guy that sat his sweaty ass down on my shoulder for 90 seconds, do you?" replies the eighty-five pound french women with the teal sweater tied around her shoulders.

They become fast friends trying to decide if the front and back of me was indeed from the same person.

Anyhow... we finally get to Germany, 11 hours later, and are waiting patiently for the 97 rows in front of us to deplane when BLAMO! Nathan takes a huge dump in his pants. I go to the changing room and the attendant actually tells me that I have to wait until we're outside. I recommend an alternate course of action involving my shoe and his own "poop maker" and he relents. Now changed, I struggle the two car-seats out of the airplane seats, pack our 7 backpacks, and Jaime collects our children... all under the watchful eye of the FOUR attendants standing at the back of the plane. Help? Me? No, no, no. I couldn't possibly ask you to carry a backpack 25 yards to the the front of the plane. I mean, you have that little rolley suitcase full of pretension to wheel out.

So we're here... the past week has really been great, but we havn't had the camera out. We're a little worried it was in that eighth backpack that I over-head smashed into the TSA agent's brain-pan in order to create enough of a diversion to get our gypsy stroller through the x-ray machine... but cameras are cheap these days. Anyhow, we spent today walking the vineyards of the Mosel and tasting delicous wine with some new friends... no photos of that, but I did manage a shot of the view out the front of our hotel room... Nathan loves it:

we move into our new house in the German villiage of ENSCH on Monday. Can't wait! We'll post more pictures when we find the camera.