Sunday, April 17, 2005

Maya eats and sleeps her way to Canada

We're pleasantly now able to say that Maya's quite the agreeable travelling companion. Yesterday's jaunt to Montreal could have sucked like a $300 vacuum - very early rush to the airport only to be met with a sizable delay, a resulting full-to-bursting flight of semi-deranged passengers, a diminished but still longish layover in Chicago, a teenie plane in which we occupied the last, immovable row of seats, and then going through Canadian customs (at which time that brick of hash I'd forgotten hiding in my rectum suddenly became uncomfortable). But through it all, Maya ate and snoozed and generally charmed the unruly masses all around us. So I take from this a few primary lessons. First of all, carrying an adorable baby while travelling is like carrying a puppy with a clever human-ish outfit - people reach out to pet him/her/it with a dreamy, unconscious need. And let's not forget, most people are yucky and probably haven't washed their hands since Clinton was in the White House. After mistakenly letting a TSA metal detector guard touch Maya, I developed the yank-away-and-politely-scold reaction I should have practiced before heading to the airport. I've got it down cold now, so no more worries on that front. Secondly, even the surliest airport staff treat you like a prom queen with a broken heel when they see you toting a cute baby (truth be told, we purposely dressed her in a pink hippos outfit we hoped might garner such unusual kindness). Toothy smiles, offers of an extra hand whenever possible, polite parting of the crowds usually angling for the quickest route to whatever aim is before them. Very nice. If I could change one thing, I'd print up a t-shirt for Maya that listed her age ("I'm 7 Weeks Old and, yes, I'm a girl!)" to save having to repeatedly answer the only question most folks can think to ask. Maybe when we head to Texas next weekend for a wedding I'll give that a shot.

The only time Maya really showed any discomfort was when we'd hit the curb outside the Montreal airport to grab a taxi. Having Sarah's boobs suddenly off-limits when we started our journey downtown made no sense to Maya. So she did what babies do when denied their constitutional rights and began to wail. Nothing blood-curdling, but surely noticable to us and our skittish driver. As we worked to calm her down, our driver sped up. Substantially. It made for a fun ride. In short order we were in our hotel room, Maya was having the domestic white, and some dear friends from Vermont arrived to join us for dinner in the hotel's bistro.

Maya's currently playing on the bed in her funky French baby outfit (combined with bib and non-matching socks she looks like a color-blind parent dressed her in the dark). After Sarah takes a break and comes up for a feeding, we'll head out for another walk around downtown Montreal. We've already been out to a kitschy, killer brunch spot - Chez Cora, which should be on all your short-lists. Much, much more to explore. Please check back, and I promise we'll keep you updated.

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