flying

Last night, I dreamed that I was on a plane with Asher, who was in my arms, maybe a month or so old. I was having a bad allergic reaction to something on the plane, so the flight attendants put me on a ledge outside the door, thousands of feet above the earth. I had to hold on to a railing with one hand and Asher with the other, and at some point I wasn't sure I could keep my grip on either one, with the cold wind whipping around us. I started to bang on the airplane door with one of my feet, yelling "Help! Let us in!" thinking that allergies were a much less worse fate than plummeting to our doom, but I was told they couldn't open the door mid-flight. They would, however, make an emergency landing in Finland, where we could get on another plane. The dream is a bit fuzzy from there, but I remember how good it felt to put my feet on solid earth again.

Flying while six months pregnant was much less fraught than the dream, but it had its moments...my legs swelled up like water balloons on both flights, even though I drank a lot of water and tried to get up and walk around a fair amount (easy to do, since I had to use the restroom about every 20 minutes, thanks to all the water, and Asher using my bladder as a trampoline.) I've heard women talk about their ankles disappearing during pregnancy but I had never experienced that before, other than on these flights (and a while after landing.) It's a very strange sensation. And Asher either really liked or really hated the sensation of take off and landing, because he kicked like crazy when the pressure changed.

Our honeymoon/familymoon was wonderful, though, full of good food, good theater (from Billy Elliot on Broadway to the most charming and brilliant one man show at the NY Fringe Festival), good people (I wish I could have seen all my New York friends while I was in town, but our time was so packed, it was impossible to fit everything in. I'm grateful for moments with my brother and sis-in-all, as well as my agent and my editor at Ballantine, all of whom were wonderful.) We had our own little apartment in the East Village, one of 20 vacation rentals owned by a non-profit organization that feeds the homeless in the area, so it felt as if we were really living there, not just visiting. I miss being able to walk down the street and pick up Himalayan food or Jewish deli or the most amazing vegetarian Thai food I've ever tasted (spicy watercress "duck", hello! And lychee rice pudding brulee, made with coconut milk...heaven.) We had a chance to explore so many different parts of the city--I feel as if we got a good, thorough taste of the Big Apple (Michael had never been there before, so it was a great introduction for him, and Hannah and I got to see a lot of the city that we had never experienced before.)

We had a couple of scary moments--we got fake mugged after bowling in Harlem (not something we expected to do while we were in town, but my brother was shooting a show for AMC there and used us in the background as extras.) We had just gotten into a cab to head back to our place when a guy flung open the driver's door and shouted "Give me all your money!" Our hearts were pounding like mad until (and for quite a while after) the driver started to laugh and told us the guy was his brother. Not a cool joke. And in another cab ride, a drunk and very belligerent guy started to punch the car as we were stuck in traffic, and then started to assault our driver through the open window. Michael said "Hey, man, there's a pregnant woman in here", and then the guy started to scream at and lunge toward Michael's window (proof that not every one defers to the sanctity of pregnancy--or reason, for that matter.) Aside from these moments, it was a fun, delicious, satisfying trip. I'm glad we were able to get away before the baby comes and travel will be more complicated (although hopefully we won't ever have to cling to the side of an airplane!)