Flying! (a straight-up bitch session)

This past week, I had to travel for work back to good ole' Seward, Nebraska. I've traveled to Seward by myself a dozen times, so I didn't think travel was going to be a big deal. But boy, was I wrong.

Flying while pregnant was not in the least bit fun. I decided not to check my bags, because I didn't have a lot of stuff and I don't entirely trust the airports to get my bags to where they need to go. But I did not anticipate how hard it would be to drag my 20-pounds-heavier body around the airport while also dragging my 20 pound suitcase. I also had to wear my winter boots, because they wouldn't fit in my bag but the shoes killed my feet. Especially when my ankles got swollen on the flight. 

My first flight out of Detroit got cancelled. So I was reschedule for one that left five hours lately (after being on the phone for two hours with customer service). When I got to Detroit, my new flight was delay by two hours, causing me to miss my connecting flight in Denver. I had to wait in line in Denver for another hour and a half (by that point I was thirsty, hungry and extraordinarily grumpy). I ended up staying in Denver overnight and getting onto a flight to Dallas the next day, where I finally left for Omaha. 

Nausea has always been a problem for me during takeoff/landing, but being pregnant multiplied it ten times over. I definitely made use of my sick bag while my fellow travelers avoided eye contact. (save for a single military man who took pity on me. He told me his wife is pregnant and has been sick the entire time). 

There's also the whole issue of the full-body-scanners that are now in use at most airports. I didn't get very lucky with those. Two out of three times I was pulled out of line and told to go through. Both times I opted out, per the advice of Google. The airport personnel were not pleased with finding a female employee to pat me down. And those pat-downs? Invasive. Particularly because they had to feel my waistband, which was awkward in pregnancy pants.

On the plus side, I did have people help me lifting my bags most of the time. People were generally nice. But, man, do I hate airlines. I don't want to fly alone ever again. And it makes me really wary of flying with an infant. The whole process just stresses me out. And I caught a nasty cold on the way back, despite my obsessive hand sanitizing. So jury's still out on whether or not we'll be a "flying" family. Obviously, there will be times when it's necessary. But I strongly prefer the open road. Where I can be in charge of my own plans thank-you-very-much