To Hell and Back Again - A Mattingly Tale

May 14, 2006

We ate, we drank, and we saw our friends get married. Now it was time for us to return home.

On our flight from Kansas City to Denver Ray and I found ourselves to be the unfortunate pair destined to spend the almost two hour flight seated in the very last seats on the plane. Right next to us was the restroom and shortly we would discover that seated before us would be a couple flying with their baby for the first time.

It was a twenty-something couple maybe only a few years younger then Ray and I. Their baby was about eight months old and very finicky. My nausea was starting again and the chemical fumes from the restroom were not helping the matter. Buckled up for take off and no barf bag in site, I practiced deep slow breathing to keep myself from adding a new color to the back of the seat in front of me.

And then it started. Just as the plane was leveling off in the air our youngest passenger started to cry. This was not the small cute whimpering that you hear before a mother sticks a pacifier in the baby's mouth. Oh no, this was the all out 'I'm-dying-a-slow-and-painful-death-academy-award-winning-scream-of-terror'. This baby cried so loud that the flight attendant had to cover her ears as she screamed into the microphone in order to explain how to use our seat cushion as a flotation device. Of course at that moment most people were thinking of using it as a suffocation device, but the worst was yet to come.

Some how through some small miracle the baby did manage to calm down and even nap for a short time. The flight attendants took this as a signal to begin serving refreshments. Ray and I started to settle in with our drinks and bags of pretzel rations. You could hear in the distance the conversations of those up front discussing the weather, the local news and their final flight destination. But alas, this simple peaceful flight was not meant to be.

The baby had awoke with a cry that was unmistakable. His parents pulled out toys and blankets, pacifiers and bottles, but nothing seemed to work. It was a non-stop cry-a-thon! All conversations stopped as people quickly scrabbled for their headsets and blasted their ears with in-flight music in the hope of trying to drown the cries.

With the baby faced toward us as the mom tried desperately to bounce the baby silent on her knee, Ray and I received a constant full blast of the baby's lung capabilities. Several times the flight attendants came to the back to ask the couple if their was anything they could do to help. I though filling the baby's bottle with a couple of shots of Brandy would do the trick, but Ray's idea of giving the family a parachute and kicking them all off the plane was also an excellent idea.

Now this event does bring up the question of "how do you handle flying with a baby?" We would love to hear some of your suggestions as Ray and I are both clueless about this and are not afraid to admit it.

So let us get back to the story.

Just as it began to look as if Ray was going to personally kick the family off the plane without the parachute, the voice of hope could just faintly be heard over the intercom. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are now making our decent into Denver. " I swear I have never seen seats and trays returned to their right position so quickly. It was as if there was this collective longing to speed up our decent and get us all on the ground and away from the screaming baby as quickly as possible.

At this point the sound was deafening. The screams seemed to penetrate all bone and matter. I think at some point I started to understand all those sermons about Hell that was preached to me in Catholic school. I finally understood what Hell was. In fact, I swear I could even smell the deep disgusting stench rising from the pit of evil. But wait, I wasn't in Hell. I'm still on the plane. It was a short and simple line from Ray that brought me back to reality. "Oh, no she isn't!"

Ten minutes before the plan was to land and it was not the smell of sulfur and decaying bodies from the deep dark hole of terror that I smelled, but the full on fumes of 'baby anti-Christ' getting his diaper changed!!! "Ten minutes! You couldn't wait ten freaking minutes!", I heard Ray saying loud enough for the couple to hear. At this point our ears and now are noses had been so violated that I wondered if it was possible to press charges against a minor for ear and nose rape.

As the plane finally touched down in Denver, passengers collected their belongings and stood waiting patiently for the door to open. No one seemed to look back at the baby that was still screeching his heart out. But then I understood why. To look upon the face of this baby would be like touching the very bones of Cain himself- such pure evil was sure to bring sudden death.

A brave attendant came back to ask if this was the couple's final flight. They replied, no, we have a connecting flight, and Ray responded with, "It better not be our flight." The mother turned around having obviously heard Ray, but there was nothing she could say. Our unborn child had just been subjected to almost two hours of noise pollution and if our child is born with any ear problems I was determined to find this couple and sue them for all medical expenses.

We got off the plane as quickly as we could and breathed deep the fresh air of freedom. As we strolled through the terminal I began to realize that Hell is not a place you go to, but a moment, an experience, that can forever change you. It is in those moments of darkness, in this moments of deep despair that your start to realize the hope and strength found in faith. It is that kind of faith that keeps us holding on. The kind of faith that speaks to us within the darkness and says, "Do not fear, for I am with you. I will comfort and protect you. And I will make sure you don't kill that crying baby because I heard that prison food really suck!"