“Here are your boarding passes, sir. I have three seats together in Row 12 and just one seat by itself in Row 13. I hope that’s OK with you and your family.”
My wife and I looked at each other.
We both knew what this meant.
It meant one of us was going to have the luxury of travelling on a four-hour flight in total peace and comfort in Row 13, while the other was going to endure the torture of trying to entertain two sons aged 5 and 7 in Row 12.
Being the gentleman that I am, yours truly of course offered to take the short straw. Little did I know, I was the unwitting victim of a master plan – one that was activated when my wife complained on the cab ride to the airport that she felt nauseous. How could I let her suffer the the ordeal of pacifying our two boys on an airplane after hearing that? Continue reading