Thank heavens for Qantas

I don't fly that often anymore - I have no need to jet around the country on business at the moment, and I've found that flying with young children is more trouble than it's worth.  The wonder drug is supposed to be Phenergan, which many parents claim as the keys to their sanity.  We tried it on the monkey last night about half way through our trans-continental odyssey, and it made absolutely no impact.  He continued to do laps of the jumbo, and when that wore thin, he started climbing over the row of seats in front of us (thankfully they were empty).  I arrived on the west coast around midnight our time a gibbering wreck.  By the time we fly again after this trip, I reckon most of my frequent flier points will have expired.

Road trips are not a problem.  You can simply pull over at a McDonalds or even a paddock and let the sprogs out and coax them to run over the horizon for half an hour or so, and no one else will be bothered.  The aisles of modern aircraft are just too narrow for monkeys to race up and down, particularly as he stumbled from time to time and crashed into grannies trying to sleep.  Good thing he has such a wicked smile - they generally patted him on the head and sent him on his way.  I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have a handsome little charmer.  If he was an ugly little brute, my life would be very difficult.

The hosties were an absolute marvel, playing with him when he crashed into them, giving him colouring-in books and other goodies to play with and not scolding me on all sorts of safety grounds when he climbed up on the seats and tried to get into the overhead lockers.  He even got a chocolate icecream, which I instantly dubbed the $600 icecream (although it will be $300 if we get one on the way back).

The contrast with Virgin couldn't be starker.  Virgin might be a fun airline for people that like to party like Mercedes Corby, but it is a shocker for families with young kids.  The hosties treat kids like some sort of loathsome swamp creatures, there is no in-flight entertainment and there are certainly no free chocolate icecreams.  Given that the icecream brought the monkey to a screaming half for 15 minutes, I might ask for half a dozen on the way back.  Even if he pukes chocolate icecream vomit everywhere, it will be worth buying 90 minutes of peace and quiet.

So although the monkey is not even 3 yet, I am considering getting him a Qantas frequent flier card, because he is never flying Virgin.  He can fly with them when he is 18 and wants to chat up cute little Virgin hosties, but until then, he can put up with the old boilers on Qantas.