The Trip

At five o'clock on Monday, December 29th, we loaded five extra-large suitcases, four carry-ons, two children, and a stroller into a nine-passenger biodiesel-consuming van (from PlanetTran, an all-green car service fleet--if you're in Boston or SF, check it out!). Getting through security was a bit of a hassle--collapsing the stroller, unpacking all the electronics and liquids, removing all shoes and coats, keeping track of the children. A man in a wheelchair tried to cut between Pat and me when some distance got between us as we loaded all the gear. I'm not sure women and children trump the handicapped, but I was having none of it and put him in his place. 

Once we reassembled, we headed to the Virgin Atlantic lounge for a light dinner--grilled salmon, shrimp spring rolls, some salad, and cheese and crackers. Sam was too rammy to remain there, so we headed back up to the main terminal to let him exert some energy before the flight. In the process, he exerted something else, so I escorted him back to the lounge to use the fanciest public changing table I've ever encountered (sleek stainless steel).

Once boarded, it took some consideration to figure out the best seating arrangement. VA's business seats are lined up in slanted pods so that you can't see the person next to you. I sat next to Sam so that I could hang my hand over the wall and hold his; Pat sat across from us and gave me updates on what Sam was doing (continually unbuckling his seat belt, for example, until the attendant brought over a nifty band that fit over the belt and thwarted his monkeyness). Finn was on my lap with a special, bright orange infant belt that accentuated his girth and looped onto my belt. It was an odd sensation to take off sitting sideways.

It took some effort to get the boys to sleep, but once they did they remained so all the way to London. Pat was aided in his somnambulist efforts by a single malt. I had less success since I shared my bed with Finn.

We had three hours to kill in Heathrow. The Singapore Air lounge was larger, though not as outré as VA. We had some breakfast pastries and then took turns walking Sam around, mostly riding the people movers in the terminal (HUGE hit).

Sam charmed a British couple in the lounge, who thankfully occupied the seats directly behind us. (We had two rows of the double center seats, with a single window seat across from us on either side; that is, the layout was one-two-one.) He had less luck with the man across the aisle, who spent the entire flight giving us dirty looks and grumbling. Apparently he even complained to the flight attendants several times about how they shouldn't allow children on night flights, but to no avail since Sam had already endeared himself to the crew during his many, many trips to the galley. They cut up fresh fruit for him and offered Pat some cognac reserved for a guest in one of the suites on the lower level. (The aircraft was a double-decker Airbus 380; unlike the 747, the entire plane had two stories, and it had 12 of those new private suites.) Sam also got two little Singapore Airlines teddy bears and Finn got one, which means Sam got three.

The twelve-plus-hour flight passed slowly. Many times Sam repeated, "Bye-bye," his signal that he was ready to leave. The portable DVD player was a bust; the Sesame Street beanie babies were a hit. Thanks to the lay-flat beds, we all got a few hours of sleep. At one point Sam woke up yelling, "Bear!" Pat had left Little Bear in the rollerboard suitcase that the attendants stowed away somewhere, and he shrugged it off saying Sam could make do with Big Bear. "I told you so" came to mind.

As we descended, we saw a harbor full of tankers, proving Singapore's position as an international port. The airport was open and airy, with philodendron cascading down the walls. Immigration was a breeze, our luggage came out quickly, and our transportation was waiting for us. It was a bright, beautiful New Year's Eve morning in Singapore.