…to taking kids on helicopter rides over one hour long.
Why? It’s simple. They puke.
It happened on Wednesday, during our Wickenburg to Meteor Crater to Grand Canyon flight. Christopher just couldn’t listen to Dad and take dramamine. By the time he did, it was too late. No barf bags handy, so he puked into my insulated lunch bag. But what’s worse is that he forgot to move his mike boom out of the way. Not only did he get kid puke all over the foam cover for my $1,000 Bose headset, but we had to listen to him puke as we flew.
And, of course, I had to get kid puke on my hand when I removed the foamy thing to wash it. And I had to wash it, too, so his sister, who sat in front on the way back, wouldn’t have brother puke near her mouth.
(One of the reasons I don’t have kids is because I never wanted to clean up kid puke.)
It happened again today. Paul did take the motion sickness pills in advance. But it wasn’t enough to stop him. Fortunately, I had a barf bag handy. His sister opened it up and handed it to him. He moved the mike boom. (I did remind him about six times, so he wasn’t likely to forget.)
I opened the vent to let in fresh air. Paul got cold. I closed it. His sisters begged me to open it back up. I smelled it, too. Paul got and stayed cold.
At least he got it all in the bag.
In both cases, we’d been airborne for more than an hour. I think it was the first two times time I’d had a kid on board so long. And a puker each time. That’s not a coincidence. It’s a trend.
So no kids on flights lasting longer than an hour.
The rule has been made and will not be broken.