The Magic Belly

When I was on my mission Dad’s job had him traveling a lot. I often received letters that were written while he was waiting in various airports or delayed on a tarmac somewhere. After the mission and college when I started traveling for my job it became a bonding point for us both. Even now I feel like Dad’s the only one I can truly talk to who understands the ins and outs of business travel. It’s a funny juxtaposition now that I’ve recently made Platinum status on American Airlines and he’s now the missionary. He’s slogging it out in the mission field while I have people “powdering my butt” as he used to say. On my flight today from Dallas to Boston I had a lovely lunch which began with hot towels and warm nuts. The salad was good and I had to choose between the BBQ sandwich or the pizza. I declined the wine of course but warm cookies were on their way to make up for it. My glass of water (note: GLASS, not plastic cup) was not less than half empty the whole flight. They called me Ms. Wuehler… and they made sure to pronounce it right.

I have to tell you there is a certain power in being pregnant when it comes to travel. You may have noticed that before they board a flight there’s a small group of well-heeled men standing near the gate. They try to look surreptitious but they watch that gate like Ed McMahon is about to come out any minute and declare them the winner of Publisher’s Clearinghouse Sweepstakes. There’s a reason for this you see, every one of those business men has a laptop bag and rollerboard. Although First Class has many amenities, there is simply not much room in the overhead compartment, especially if EVERYONE has a rollerboard which pretty much everyone does. Much of the space is taken up by FAA required first aid and emergency supplies. So it’s a dog eat dog world there in First Class.

I sat back and watched them; thoroughly entertained by the way they try to edge up on one another. Clearly they're competitive people who are used to mapping out strategies for success. To put it plainly, they’re used to winning. Just before the announcement is made to board, I headed over to the group and soundly destroy their plans to race onto the jet bridge first. Who is going to be the jerk who tries to shove past the pregnant lady? That’s right, no one. The cost of doing so would be to have everyone stare you down for being utterly uncouth. They all must give me deference and it is I who makes it onto the plane first. Even the guy who eyes my belly as if he’s thinking, “She looks healthy enough, I could get ahead of her” ends up standing aside. If I choose to waddle a little slower, they must wait. In this scenario, it is I alone who sets the pace.

Once on board it doesn’t stop there because who’s going to be the jerk who makes the pregnant lady put her rollerboard into the overhead compartment? Again, they must bow to me. It’s women and children first and at the moment, I cover BOTH those categories. I trump their every advantage. They may be CEO's or high-powered salesman, but I am expecting which is something they will never have. Perhaps it’s not breaking the glass ceiling, but it is domination, even if only for the duration of a flight. Veni, Vidi, Vici.