What’s the most precious cargo you have ever flown? My five week old grandson, Hayden Matthew Miller ranks right up there for me. The trip in our Citation Mustang could accurately be described as an ordeal. At least that’s how I viewed it as Nana and I prepared for the adventure. Our daughter in law, Amy, was scheduled to begin 3 days of exams in Ames, Iowa for board certification in veterinary pathology. That part was hard enough, since less than 50% pass the once- a- year marathon. During her pregnancy, Amy declared she would leave newborn Hayden in Dallas to be cared for by husband Matt, also a veterinarian. But something happened the day her son was born. Amy fell in love with Hayden. And now, as the test date drew near, Amy decided she could not part with her first child. Thus, one pilot-grandfather, one grandmother, an amazing array of pediatric paraphernalia, a breast feeding mother and Hayden began our big adventure.
The day of departure arrived gloomy and full of lightning. The route was covered in SIGMETS and the weather at the destination was generally 2SM RA BR OVC005. My decision on a cruise altitude and rate of descent were unusually important due to the possibility that Hayden might not like rapid pressure changes. I choose FL320 to limit the cabin to 5,000 feet. We flew a wide deviation around a large area of thunderstorms to lessen the bumps, but ultimately I had to shoot the 13 ILS to KDSM (Des Moines, Iowa) in moderate rain. That turned out to be the easy part.
For those of you who have not flown with and cared for a five week old, I suggest you buy a bigger airplane. The biggest one you can find. We had a pack-n-play, changing tables, nursing apparatus, a swing, car seat, stroller and more. We looked like a regional distribution center for Babies R Us. As we taxied into Elliot Aviation, the lineman had no idea what he was in for. Arriving with the rented Toyota 4 Runner, you could see “Clampett’s” written all over his face. “How do you plan to get all this stuff in the SUV” he said. “I don’t, I replied. That’s what they pay you the big bucks for.”
And slowly, like a giant jigsaw puzzle, he managed to do it. I tipped him generously and tried to talk him into staying with us at the motel for three days so he could repack on our return. It didn’t work. Off we drove the forty-five miles to Ames and the Best Western Motel.
The remainder of this piece has virtually nothing to do with flying. It has to do with egos. As a proud male pilot, my ego is about as large as my airplane. There is nothing I can’t do and I have a strong opinion on everything. Not having raised an infant for 30 years, I have forgotten a thing or two. OK, I have forgotten everything. I was totally out of my league on baby raising. Luckily, Nana is an infant specialist. She knows it all. And she knows how to tell me why my attempts to reason with a screaming infant would not work. “Think of it this way, she said. It’s like dealing with ATC. Sometimes they’re just not ready.”
We reserved three rooms. One for Amy and Hayden, one for us, and a “safe room” where we could escape if necessary. Amy and Nana told me to go into the safe room and not come out until they called. Late in day two my room phone rang. “We are hungry they said. Get us something to eat.” Finally I had been chosen for a job I could handle.
At the fast food drive through, I told the girl at the window that I had just flown my jet to Des Moines and that I was raising a five week old. “Me too,” she said.
I still don’t believe she has a jet.
Fly safe.
