The screaming followed me across the pond and then did not let up as I hopped across the old world from the United Kingdom to Romania. The first screamer shed no tears for the 10 hour flight – rather he hit every note in the key of F sharp and was a persistent little bugger. Lesser children would have killed it a few hours into the flight. After 10 hours this young chap was going strong wailing like a banshee. Unfortunately he was seated right across from me.
On the National Express bus leaving Heathrow, some kind of competitive father son game began- whoever spots a certain type of car and gets the most “spots” wins – except the son reflected his spottings of the vehicles with loud continuing whoops of jubilation. Unfortunately he was sitting directly behind me.
Next up was the golden haired cherub on the flight from Luton to Henri Coanda International Airport in Bucharest. This kid was an absolute terror – he was kicking and screaming for 40 solid minutes while we stood in line at the gate in the airport at midnight. His parents had a stroller so that was their ticket to “priority” boarding and we all watched while he nearly kicked over the large old school monitor at the check in gate while in his mother’s arms. The line let out a collective gasp as the monitor teetered on edge while the quick moving husband moved in to stop it from falling.
The line of people was silent – we heard nothing but agonized screams which eventually slowly disappeared down the jetway! The gate agent had reached her boiling point and banished them to the last seat on the plane. Fortunately with the noise of the plane and sitting 30 some odd rows in front – we were only tortured with the loudest of the demented echoes coming from the back of the plane every few minutes. In this case, tears were a big part of the show.
Finally…I’ve reached the quiet backstreets just down from the old city in central Bucharest – now for some R&R! Will explore Old Town tomorrow and set off to the countryside in search of some castles!