Airplanes, Parents and Wet Shorts

          In the summer of 2006 and in the month of July, my family and I took an 8:00 a.m. flight out of Birmingham bound for Orlando, Florida.  The flight was around forty-five minutes long, and by the time we had landed in Orlando, my son, Ben was ready to disown me.

          The departure plane from Birmingham was a small jet: two isles with one seat on one side and two seats on the other side.  My husband, Elliot sat in the single seat, and Ben sat next to the window with me next to him.
         
           A short while into the flight, the flight attendant served us drinks and pretzels.  We all lowered our trays in front of us and placed our drinks on the trays.  On my tray were a  can of  Sprite about half-full and a cup of Sprite with ice.  Without much thought, I carelessly picked up my bag which was next to me on the floor and hit the tray sending both my drinks directly into Ben’s lap.

           Ben was in total shock, and the harsh look he gave me let me know that I had a lot of explaining to do.  I immediately began apologizing and took a fleece blanket from my carry-on and began soaking up the Sprite from his shorts.  His clothing, of course, was wet and cold, so I stuffed the blanket up the legs of his shorts to keep the wet, cold fabric off his skin.  He did not like the idea of this blanket being stuffed up his shorts, but he soon decided it was better than the option of the wet, cold shorts sticking to his skin.
 
            Next, I began trying to figure out what we could do about his wet clothing because he was upset at the thought of walking through the Orlando airport with the crotch of his shorts extremely wet.

            I told him that as soon as we landed and got into the airport, we would go directly to a shop and I would buy him a new pair of shorts; however, my plan did not quite work out this way.  Because of the extreme security in place in the airport, we were not allowed free access to roam the airport in search of new shorts.  The areas we were allowed access to had no clothing shops, so I came up with another plan.  Elliot and Ben would go into the restroom, and Ben would go into a stall, take off his shorts, and hand them over to his dad, and Elliot would dry them under the hand dryers in the restroom.  Well as luck would have no part of the plan I had for the problem of the wet shorts, no hand dryers were found in any of the restrooms.
 
              Fortunately, by this time, the shorts had begun to dry and the situation did not appear to be the crisis it had been earlier.
 
              But this is not how the story ends...and the situation became filled with much irony.
 
              After about a seven hour layover in Orlando caused by a delayed flight, we finally left Orlando headed to San Juan, Puerto Rico.  Ben informed me that he would not be sitting beside me on this flight, so he sat beside the window with his dad next to him with me seated in the middle row of seating, directly across the isle from Elliot.

              As is the routine, the flight attendant served us drinks and snacks.  Only Elliot and I had drinks because Ben had already fallen  asleep.  We pulled our trays down and both Elliot and I had Sprite in cans with cups of ice filled with Sprite as well.  Just as Elliot had been served, I leaned over across the isle and quietly and chidingly told him to be careful and not spill his drink on Ben, and just as the last word left my mouth, Elliot leaned in just a little closer to me and said “what” and in the process, he hit his tray. Both his drinks landed in Ben’s lap.  This time shock eluded Ben, and fury took over.  Ben was livid that his shorts were once again wet and cold.  His only words were that he vowed he would not ever sit beside either of us on another flight.

            And he didn’t.
 
            The good news is that the flight was four hours long, so by the time we had landed in San Juan, his shorts were dry.