On my flight from Charlotte to Frankurt I sat next to a little German boy named Constantine who was approximately five years old. Constantine didn’t speak a word of English and my German is limited to counting to ten and saying “please” and “thanks”. Fortunately the boy’s mom was sitting in the row behind us with his brother and was able to provide translation services

Throughout the flight I was under the impression that Constantine had a bladder the size of a peanut because he went to the bathroom approximately 43 times. It ends up he had an upset stomach which I figured out when the cabin lights were turned on so the crew could serve breakfast. That’s when Constantine awoke with that wide-eyed look you get when the smoke alarm goes off at 3 AM and started saying “nein” over and over really loudly. That’s also when he assumed that belly grabbing pose that is the universal symbol for “I’m getting ready to blow chunks.”. Unfortunately for me the meal cart was parked next to me which meant I was fairly certain I was going to be wearing chunks of something if I didn’t move fast

Constantine’s mom handed him a barf bag through the gap between the seats and I’m hear to tell you that when you’re staring down the possibility of a five year olds hurl those bags don’t engender a lot of confidence. Meanwhile the stewardesses all assumed that Constantine was my son despite the fact that we’d been communicating with each other via grunts and hand signals for six hours. That’s why they didn’t act with what I felt was appropriate urgency when I informed them of the situation. When I told them that he wasn’t my kid and he’d probably be happier with his mom the stewardesses moved the cart so mom and I could trade places. I think my look of desperation also helped

In the end we landed safely and Constantine gave me a sweet smile on the way out.

Why do I feel like this is going to be a really long trip? Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry