A moody moment

Recently I succumbed to the most unpleasant of moods. It descended over me like a thick, dark, impenetrable curtain and was at an hour before I was able to peep from beneath my fury to find a shadow of reason.

It began at the airport. It was before Alan Joyce unleashed the full force of his powers by grounding the entire Qantas fleet but I hold him vicariously responsible because it was a few of his Jetstar staff who conspired against me.

I was at the check-in desk with Miss I who was sitting in her stroller. After checking in my bag and receiving our boarding pass the lady asked me if I would like to check in the stroller. I thought it was an odd question. I was travelling solo so if I checked in the stroller how would I navigate myself and Miss I through security and along to our boarding gate? Whilst also inevitably having to variously retrieve my wallet, a dummy, sultanas, and wipes from the depths of my bag?

Miss I is now too big for the Baby Bjorn, she is too heavy and wriggly to carry long distances and far too unruly to walk alone. And, therein lies the genius invention for parents on solo missions with toddlers the whole world over. A stroller! A lightweight, travel-friendly, airport-ready, stroller! It's hard to imagine a setting that requires a stroller MORE than a large airport terminal.

So I said I didn't want to check it in. The Jetstar attendant said if I took it to the gate there was the possibility it wouldn't fit on the plane so I would have to get there early to see. This exchange gave me the impression that I had a choice. There was an hour before boarding so I said I would take my chances. Quite honestly, I thought without the stroller there was the possibility I wouldn't make it to the plane at all.

I'd be stuck at the security gates trying to chase Miss I whilst removing my shoes, watch and emptying the contents of my bag on the conveyor belt. And I figured I'd need the stroller at the airport more than I was going to need it for our five day holiday simply because I'd be accompanied by lovely grand-parenting hands at our destination. Fortunately, this theory proved true.

With stroller on hand, off, we pushed. At the gate I asked if there was room on the plane for the stroller. I was met with thinly veiled disdain. 'You had to check that in upstairs', a lady barked. 'It's not allowed'. I explained that I was given the option of coming early to see if it could fit. Another lady, as uninterested in customer service as the first, came over. Together they rolled their eyes, growled into their walkie-talkies and berated me for bringing it. As if I was on a little folly of my own with a frivolous accessory like a stroller just for the fun of it.

Eventually a crew member took the folded stroller and a few minutes later we boarded the flight. (What then ensued merits its very own post). After disembarking the plane, several rotations of the luggage carousel confirmed the stroller had not accompanied us. When I finally tracked down a staff member I was told it had been "confiscated" because I had "refused" to check it in and consequently I would have to collect it at "my expense".

I was so many shades of angry and I lost my cool. Steam flew out my ears and a few cross words flew from my mouth. Admittedly the staff in Ballina were not responsible for the situation but, my goodness, they didn't make it any better. They just kept repeating the words 'confiscated', 'refused' and 'my expense', as if I was a criminal who had smuggled contraband on the aircraft, not a mother who was bringing along an essential tool of the trade. I know it's a low cost carrier but I thought the low cost bit was because they don't give you food or have fancy interiors, not because they don't carry prams. I now know it does.

The whole episode made my blood boil and it made me wonder what makes you angry? Have you had any moments of fury lately?