Victory Swagger

It cracked like a gunshot — a sound that usually gets you cuffed. Instead, Southwest published this photo in their in-flight zine. No mug. No miles. I didn't even get a measly drink coupon.

Doesn’t matter. I got the story. This is how my toddler took over the Nashville Airport.

Dec. 23, 2011. Finn and Fiona were 2 years, 9 months old.

Snowstorms had delayed our Christmas flight to Raleigh, and we were failing as parents. After an hour reading the same books, Fiona's restlessness turned to tantrum. The stares of people nearby started to look like bad words.

I tried to fashion a paperclip into a frog, but one bounce and it was gone. Then, the metaphorical light bulbs flashed as I got an idea. The “bulbs” were right there, staring me in the face in the form of three shiny silver helium balloons floating above the Christmas display by the gift store.

For the sake of everyone's sanity, I ran over and commandeered them for Fiona. As if I had flipped a switch, her crying turned to hysterical laughter. But the new crazy looked almost identical to the previous one and continued to attract glares. Clearly, her energy couldn't be contained in the small deli we were in, so I unleashed her to run the halls.

She wove through holiday crowds at top speed, balloons bobbing behind and occasionally grazing the faces of speed walkers. Before long, people were pointing and smiling.

I was thrilled to be back in society’s good graces, but red alerts were still sounding in my head. Toddlers can't just run around willy nilly without something going horribly wrong.

Sure enough, we all cringed as Fiona tripped over someone’s luggage. Remarkably though, she had been hugging one of the balloons. Not only did it break her fall, but she slid a few feet across the tiled floor as she crash-landed.

I couldn't tell if the onlookers were getting up to see if she was okay or if they were giving her a standing ovation. In any case, Fio turned it into a game, running a bit faster this time and leaping into the air. A few of the power walkers leaped into the air themselves as she ran up behind them, sliding by like a belly-surfing penguin on ice.

It's too bad we didn’t get it on camera. I would have captured the magic myself, except my hands were tied up doing traffic control. Passersby started clearing the way. Now the whole corridor was her personal runway … until she leaped a little too high.

POW!

Fiona hit the ground, still spread out like Superman as she slid to a stop. At this point, nobody seemed to care that the exploding balloon sounded like gunfire.

TSA #1: “Yeaaaah, we're just going to let this one slide.”
TSA #2: “You're fired.”
TSA #1: “C’mon!”
TSA #2: “Ok, it was pretty good.”

When Fiona stood up, the two other balloons pulled up and away. “Noooooo!” she cried. I jumped, but couldn't get there in time. That was it. The show was over. Fiona was bawling as I picked her up. As we walked back to the deli, I faintly heard someone behind me in the whiskey bar say, “Hey.” I looked back and Dude was holding a chair. “I bet you can get her those balloons,” he suggested.

I don't turn down a good dare, and this was close enough. The man was betting on me. Sure, Fiona played a part in it, but honestly, I wanted the audience to myself. The twins are always stealing the show.

I handed Fiona off to her mother to be consoled, but it was just a ploy to keep Melina distracted. She’s a force to be reckoned with anytime, but especially when I show my ass.

So I grabbed the chair and quickly got to work, but my first attempt fell short. Dude looked disappointed, like my height was false advertisement. I was just another tall white guy with deceptively jumpy vibes.

I could see a few airport staff members pointing my way, trying to decide if I was going to be a problem. At least Melina wasn’t watching. That meant there was still time to hatch a new plan. I spied a trash can that looked promising, but the thing was massive, made of stone – way too heavy to slide. What if …?

It took some muscle, but I was able to tip it over just enough to keep its contents from spilling out, but far enough to slowly roll it along the bottom edge.

It was part balancing, part Frogger as I wove through the speed walkers and grinned at all the gawkers. As I climbed onto the trash can, onlookers from the deli down to the whiskey bar and just about all of terminal 2 were tuned in. That’s when I saw my extremely bewildered wife cutting through the crowd. It was now or never.

[Alright Spielberg. I'll make it easy for ya’.]

FADE IN:

INT. NASHVILLE AIRPORT – LARGE CORRIDOR – DAY

The shrewd face of MELINA looks confused. The warm face of BAR DUDE begins to smile, eyebrows rise in anticipation. A walkie-talkie is heard off-screen.

TSA #1 (V.O.)
We’ve got a jumper. Repeat.
We've got a jumper. Over.

IN SLOW MOTION – DARBY launches. Fingertips just barely snag the end of the ribbon.

CUT TO:

EXT. SPACE
GREEN SCREEN – DARBY’S hair is standing straight up. We see stars, planets and a big freaking supernova. We hear the string quartet crescendo.

CUT TO:

MEL’S POV
Darby tucks and rolls, still clutching the ribbon. Fiona jumps on him as the barflies explode.

FADE OUT

It would have been a Steven Spielberg ending had I not come down so hard. Mel was the only one who could tell I was hurt, but I had so much adrenaline pumping that my limp looked more like victory swagger.

As Fiona hugged my leg, I tied her fuzzy red glove to the ribbon and tossed the two remaining balloons back up toward the ceiling. Her jaw dropped in disbelief. Before she could get mad, the balloons started to slowly drift back down with the weight of the glove. Fiona began laughing, then clapping and stomping in anticipation.

When it was time for us to board, Fiona gave the balloons to a little boy sitting on the floor. I almost lost it, watching him blush at my little girl. I bet he kept that fuzzy glove.

As we floated into Raleigh, Mel reminded me that I wasn't Superman. Said I was pretty good at flying, but that I needed to work on my landing. Fiona will have to teach me someday.

TCA said to put everything in the box. I followed the rules, but X-ray dude looks grumpy for some reason.