Second Edition Now Available. Fancy digs on the A What could possibly ruin this? Even more astounding is how many of these kids are traveling in first or business class. How the demographics of air travel have changed, indeed. Kids are kids.
They cry, they run around, they yell, they misbehave. I understand this completely. To a point. I was in Bangkok, looking for a way home. Poking around on Kayak. I was excited. Asiana is a five-time SkyTrax winner and onsidered by many to be a top-tier carrier. Getting access to the lounge is of course part of the whole premium class experience, and I left the hotel extra early to enjoy it. I cannot find a quiet place to sit.
The centerpiece of this chaos is an obnoxious guy in a Russian soccer shirt and his belligerent offspring. Every so often Vlad claps his hands and scolds them in lazily indignant Russian. They ignore him and carry on. I try not to let it get to me.
I close my eyes and imagine myself on the plane, only minutes from now, sitting back in my business class seat, surrounded by peaceful luxury. When boarding is announced, I practically run onto the plane. I stow my things and settle in for the five-hour ride to Incheon. And then I hear the sound. It starts as a crackle. Then a whinny. Then a staccato series of gasps and yelps and piercing cries.
These are the noises that only a baby makes, and that baby is in business class, three seats over from me. And as babies are wont to do, the little darling treats the rest of us to a five-hour long, blood-curdling repertoire of periodic yelping and screaming fits. This repeats over and over, at erratic intervals of varying duration and loudness. Fine, kid, go ahead and cry. The rest of this trip will be great.
