Leaving nothing to chance, Shannon, Archer and I arrived at the airport about four hours early. Built on a swamp, Mumbai International must be borderline unbearable during the rainy season. March, relatively dry and temperate, is no more considerate. Filled with a hot, humid air, the terminal made every effort to reproduce Archer's very recent uterine experience. This leaden sensory weight was enhanced with thrill ride-like movement undertaken by mom and dad to spare Archer from attack by squadrons of mosquitoes. Leaving was bittersweet but desperately welcome.
Praise be, we found ourselves in a center row with an empty seat. This meant we could put Archer, resting in his awesome EuroTote, between the two of us. Resigned to the idea that one of us would be holding Archer for every minute of the 16 hour flight, we celebrated this karmic gift, India's going away present.
The flight itself was uneventful. We even discovered that our worries about disturbing other passengers were misplaced. The engine noise more than drowned out Archer's month old chirps. The layover in New Jersey for our connection to Boston was stressful only to the extent that seconds passed like hours. The transition itself was easy enough.
We had traveled for over twenty hours with a newborn, a boy so young that his passport photo was borderline comical, and we hadn't had one inconvenient minute.
We deplaned in Boston and flew through Customs to meet a crowd with signs and flowers. Archer met his extended family for the first time and then somehow managed to fall asleep, leaving his parents to fend for themselves as they fought a potent combination of exhaustion and relief.
The entire India experience was over. We were just another family.
Praise be, we found ourselves in a center row with an empty seat. This meant we could put Archer, resting in his awesome EuroTote, between the two of us. Resigned to the idea that one of us would be holding Archer for every minute of the 16 hour flight, we celebrated this karmic gift, India's going away present.
Archer very excited to be going HOME!
The flight itself was uneventful. We even discovered that our worries about disturbing other passengers were misplaced. The engine noise more than drowned out Archer's month old chirps. The layover in New Jersey for our connection to Boston was stressful only to the extent that seconds passed like hours. The transition itself was easy enough.
We had traveled for over twenty hours with a newborn, a boy so young that his passport photo was borderline comical, and we hadn't had one inconvenient minute.
We deplaned in Boston and flew through Customs to meet a crowd with signs and flowers. Archer met his extended family for the first time and then somehow managed to fall asleep, leaving his parents to fend for themselves as they fought a potent combination of exhaustion and relief.
The entire India experience was over. We were just another family.
I am here now and yes, its every bit as humid as you suggest! :)
ReplyDeleteHave truly enjoyed your story, wishing you guys lots of happiness!
ReplyDelete