The Way Back Home… Lateness, Running, Trains, Planes and… Poop.


The way home is never, ever as much fun as the way to your adventure, so Mama tells me, and I know that it is true because today happened. It’s always a let down to leave a place that has been so wonderful, but after having Fenway, the Public Gardens, and yummy noodle food happen today, we realized that we had been so busy having all the fun that we ran super short on time. We didn’t have long by the time that we got our luggage from the house to get all the way across Boston to get on our airplane.

Mama and Daddy were walking and jogging as fast as their legs would carry them when they knew what time it was, but I kept hearing Mama saying over and over that it was only a little over an hour before our flight and that we would “never make it.” She was crying a little even she was so sad, but she kept going because Daddy said to “never give up” and “we have to give it a try” because there was still a chance that we could do it. My Daddy must be a good motivator, because it helped Mama to just keep moving faster and faster.

We had a 20-minute walk, a 10-minute T train ride, and a 10-minute bus ride going to the airport with stops that took a while, too. By the time that we made the airport, we only had 25 minutes to get checked in and to get on the plane. The mass transit gods, as Mama called them, must have been shining on us, she said because the train and the bus were right there the moment that we arrived.

I didn’t fall asleep during all of the fast walking and running, I didn’t fall asleep on the T train or the bus on the way to the airport, and I didn’t fall asleep when we first got to the airport… I fell asleep right before going through security. Not only did I fall asleep right before having to be scanned by the nice folks in the blue suits, but I got sick, too, and I exploded poop all over my clothes, my Mama’s arm, and my stroller.

There was no time to run to a bathroom, though, because it was 10 minutes before the plane took off in the air, which Daddy told me is usually too late to even get on the plane. They started running again instead all the way to the gate. We got in, which amazed Mama because she had been saying the whole time that there was no way that we could make it, but there was still all of the poop in all of the places, and I was getting edgy because, well, poop is gross even for us little people that poop in our pants. Luckily for me and for my Mama, they didn’t want all that stinky to come on the plane because of “recirculated air,” whatever that is, and Daddy asked the Stewardess lady if they could change me right then and there, right outside of the giant plane that I love so much.

I got to look all around while Mama and Daddy changed me as quick as they could because I was holding up the entire plane from leaving and all of those people in it, too. I looked around and saw the bright orange and purple of the Southwest plane, and I knew that it was the same type of people who were nice and funny when coming out to Boston. The stewardess, Marie, told us that it was just fine and actually thanked us for taking the time to change me instead of bringing me on the plane. It took a while, but I got new clothes and a new diaper, and my clothes got sealed up in a bag and my old diaper went away to another place forever—Daddy said thank goodness.

Later on, Marie took care of us, gave me snacks and ginger ale, and gave Mama and Daddy special drinks of coffee and something grown up, again saying thank you to us because she said that poop had happened two other times but that those people took the poop on the planes and it was there the whole trip. I was edgy and exhausted, but I stayed awake and played games with my neighbors, still smelling a bit “stale” Mama said, the whole time. We made our flight, though, and so everything overall worked out just fine.

The funny thing that Mama and Daddy told me later is that I have a talent for combining poop and planes. On the way out to San Francisco, Daddy told me, I pooped up my whole back right before taking off, and they had to take that poop off the plane before flying away, too. They told me too that I pooped again during the long plane ride, and that one couldn’t be taken anywhere. Daddy told me that my timing was “pure talent,” whatever that means. It’s not talent, Daddy, it’s just my little baby system, which is smaller than yours, working overtime.

Sometimes things like today aren’t funny then and instead they bring tears to the eyes of Mama (not Daddy—he isn’t a big crier), but later on, when they are done and everything works out just fine, they become funny instead. This must be one of those times, because when I hear Mama and Daddy talk about those types of things afterwards, they always, always laugh. Poop, Daddy says, is always funny to talk about, and he says I’ve had some epic poop stories.

Bye, bye, Boston, until next time. You have been a wonderful city to be in, and I hope that I can see you again soon.

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About doriandean

My name is Dorian Annabel. At 5-years-old, I have my hands in everything that I can. I want to see, hear, and smell it all. I don't completely understand the Internet and blogging yet, but Mama says it's another way to see and touch the world, so I'm in. Since I'm still a little baby, my Mama and Daddy, Amy and Spenser Dean, are helping me to create this blog. My fingers just don't work quite fast enough yet.

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