Surviving a 24-hour travel marathon

Two 4-year-olds and one 5-year-old on a 14-hour flight to Taipei, Taiwan, a two-hour layover and then a five hour flight to Denpasar, Bali. Sound like a disaster waiting to happen? Well, that’s what I assumed it would turn into as we waited at San Francisco International Airport for our midnight flight on China Airlines. My daughter and son, Paris and Dante, and their friend Kaya were racing around the waiting area in their pajamas. Paris and Kaya, who both brought their American Girl dolls (Julie and Jen), dumped out a backpack filled with clothing onto the floor and proceeded to fight over whose doll would wear the one pair of pajamas.

"I want the pajamas!"

"No I want them!"

"I won't be your friend if you don't let Julie wear the pajamas!"

It was about then that Dante bonked his head on the wall and melted down, screaming and crying.

"I want to stay in San Francisco! I want to go home! Why do we have to go to Bali?"

I could see on the faces of the other people waiting to board the plane that they were all hoping, Please don't let me sit next to these crazy people. And if you could see my face at that moment you would sense my feeling of utter dread. I was wondering, Why am I hauling my children across the world? How will I ever survive this flight?

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We finally settled into our seats on the plane. The kids crawled up next to me and fell fast asleep only minutes after taking off--and they slept soundly for nine hours. Yes! We all woke up and we had only five hours left of the first leg. "That's a flight from San Francisco to Hawaii!" I said to our friends Veronique and Mark who were sitting in the row just ahead of us. "Well, why didn't we just go to Hawaii?" my husband, Anthony, countered.


Those five hours were long. Paris and Kaya were entertained by The Little Mermaid DVD for about 10 minutes--and then they discovered that the back of an airline seat is actually fun to slide down. They crawled to the tops of their seats and then let themselves drop to the bottom cushion. Dante of course had to get in on the fun. Also, a glass of orange juice was spilled (all over me), an American Girl doll roller skate was lost, and the Trader Joe's Pirate Booty was consumed.

"I want more Pirate Booty!" Dante screamed.

"Get me off this plane!" I wanted to scream.

We did finally get off and landed at Taiwan Taoyuan International Airport--and then boarded another China Airlines Flight. I was dreading those five hours more than you can imagine. I didn't think I could endure more time scrunched up in a tiny seat with rambunctious kids.

But we lucked out. The flight was empty. We were able to sprawl out and get more sleep--and before we knew it were walking off the plane into the hot, moist, fragrant air of Bali.

We filed into a line to purchase our visas and then got into another line for customs. A friendly Australian family stood behind us with their two kids.

"How long was your flight?" I asked.

"Only about four hours. We come to Bali two or three times a year," the mom said. "Where are you from?"

"San Francisco."

"Why didn't you just go to Hawaii?"

And that's the question I plan to answer in my upcoming posts about our trip. Why is it worth hauling children across the world to an exotic destination?