Run for your life, My Li’l Pony!

This is the first post that had me deciding to start Blogging.
It is based on an experience on the trip home from visiting Pennsylvania in early November, last year.

Walt and I had the most wonderful trip to Pittsburg, PA to visit Walt’s first grandchild, Sophia Marie. Sophia is a truly extraordinary baby. She’s is cute beyond measure and for the most part, a happy baby, and we spent three magical days with Sophia and her parents, Shayna and Carl.
When we boarded the Air-Tran plane to return to Orlando, honestly, my sense of perspective was skewed. Before we boarded the flight, the worst scenario I could conjure in my (innocent) mind, was the “crying baby” scenario.
All the stand-up comedians that I have ever seen have had a horror story about the “crying baby” on a trans-continental flight.
It was my misfortune to travel into the twilight zone, for a two-hour flight, seated in front of the bi-lingual, “my little pony”, little girl.
We were informed by the flight attendants, even before the cabin door was closed, that it was a very “full flight”. This would later thwart any plans I might have had for escape from the mid-flight horror, which ensued.
The family was a larger, extended family. Behind us, were seated the mother, father and at the window seat, a sweet looking little girl.
She had a book with her and a toy for the flight.
I quickly learned that the family was from another land. The slightly built mother, had a loud and powerful voice, and she spoke rapidly in a Slavic sounding language, which sometimes slid into fragmented English phrases.
The father spoke in accented English, to his little girl who was ravenous for his attention during the flight.
It began with the child reading a book aloud….sorry, should have made that “a-LOUD”. During a plethora of key phrases she would loudly proclaim “I can’t remember this word!” Mother, demonstrating characteristic understanding for the fellow passengers, made the little girl read the phrases over and over again until she got it right.
I told myself, “we’re still on the runway, I know the little girl will go to sleep when we’re in the sky and the airplane lights are dimmed.
What a fool I was.
As the flight ensued, a drama unfolded of gory and unfathomable purport ions, that, I, myself would never have anticipated.
Let me start this part of the story with an admonition to ALL parents and grandparents not to purchase My Li’l Pony for their children. Apparently, they have a propensity for hemophilia. Who knew?
As the flight went on, the little girl lost interest in the book, and decompensated into fantasy land.
In this land, there is a “mommy scorpion”, a my li’l pony, and a monster.
The mommy scorpion gives the pony a ride, somewhere, and somehow, is mortally injured. As the pony is injured, the traitorous Mommy scorpion somehow disappears, and the pony begins to hemorrhage. This stage is punctuated by the little girl telling her father “she’s bleeding…she’s bleeding”. Father seems to encourage this pathos by offering the appropriate amount of concern, saying “Oh no!”
In this fantasy land, there are medical personnel, but no ambulances. The pony must, now, be air-lifted by helicopter, to a hospital. The helicopter sounds are cheerfully provided by the father.
The pony is being transported, and as it arrives at the hospital, its condition is critical. We know this, because the little girl provides updates. “He’s dieing. He’s dieing!”. This was followed by more pathos from father “Oh no!”. A brief pause, during which a “doctor” treats the My li’l pony.
Lastly, victoriously, the pony recovers.
I begin, silently praying that the drink cart will wheel by soon. Maybe low blood sugar accounts for the tragic scenario.
The “snack break” only stems the scenario for a few moments.
After the juice break, some marshmallows and two complimentary bags of pretzels (given to the little girl) the scenario resumes with Father, being induced to participate.
Actually, I should say “repeats”, not resumes. The “mother scorpion” makes another appearance, a monster visits (sounds provided by Father) , my li’l pony is injured in the melee. The pony bleeds, pony is air-lifted by the helicopter (sounds provided by father). Pony’s condition is critical. Pony is respirated by a straw and splashed with water (from the cup provided by the flight attendant) after a 5-minute pause, the father ask “Did he (the pony) get better?” To which the child offers an enthusiastic “yes!”.
I look over at my dosing husband. I, now, resent him with the passion of 1000 suns. Half-way through the flight, Walt, typically loses his hearing due to the air pressure, and cannot hear again until his ears “pop” (which might happen sometime next week). He is oblivious to the perils of riding on a mother scorpion. He doesn’t know about the bi-lingual intercourse occurring between the Mother, the father and the grandparents (seated across aisle) about the fact that the mother couldn’t get sugar for her tea.
Walt is blessedly ignorant about the My li’l pony in the endless loop of horror, the monster biting it, the angel flight, the resuscitation, and the eventual recovery.
At this time, I’m wondering why the pony doesn’t happily clip-clop through endless green fields, with a faithful little girl riding with her and feeding her carrots and apples.
Why ARE mother scorpions so devastating? If they are so dangerous, why does the pony continue to accept the ride. If the mother scorpion is so dangerous, why doesn’t she sting the monster, before it bites the pony.
I close my eyes and engage in modified LaMas breathing. It’s quiet for a full ten minutes. Maybe the pony is in it’s stable which is magically monster and scorpion impenetrable.
I was wrong.
I hear the little girl. “Here is the mother scorpion…”….. My brain and solar plexus clutches…..the words echo in my mind “No…pony ….don’t get on the scorpion!” …Too late…the pony is injured. This time a plane comes to air-lift the pony to the hospital.
By the time we actually land in Orlando, I’m ready to reach back to the child and say “Just GIVE ME THE PONY!” (but I didn’t).
Deplaning gave me a false sense of liberty from the Mother-Scorpion-my-li’l Pony-Little-Girl-fantasy land.
The family and my husband and I parted ways on the trip past baggage claim, so I believed I was free, at last.
When Walt and I boarded the shuttle bus to go to our off-site parking lot, I was already reflecting on grand-daughter Sophie’s smile and how she loved the alphabet song. Then, who to my wondering eyes should appear?
That’s right, the bi-lingual family, complete with little girl, grasping the pathetic My Li’l pony in her hot little hand.
Personally, I think this must be karma for me, unknowingly eating cheval meat.

-END

Until Next time;
Eat something wonderful
and live a life worth loving!
-Kim