The spot that Dante missed

As some of you may already know, my grandmother passed away. (Thank you for all your kind words.) In order to attend her funeral, I went back to America for a few weeks.

I'm sorry I wasn't able to visit all of my wonderful friends. If I didn't see you it was because I was needed at home and/or you live too far away from Chattanooga. Caleb and I are planning a trip back to America together for late summer or perhaps the Holidays. We'll try to arrange a big group reunion for that time.

My eternal thanks to Jon and Emily, who picked me up and dropped me off at the Nashville Airport. Both times with very little notice. ( My Bad.)

While I was home, I was very surprised to hear that I have readers. People actually enjoy reading this thing. Who knew? Well, I do ...now. I'll try to put more up here.( If I should start to slack again, a good nagging via email should get me writing again.)

Anyway, on to something more entertaining.

I bet you're curious about that title.
Let me just start by saying that if you have not already read the Divine Comedy I highly recommend it. You can look like a real smarty-pants if you point out that some little detail from some little book is "obviously a literary reference to Dante's divine Comedy". Also, the many levels of hell make for interesting reading.

I digress, back to the title.
When Dante explained all the little nooks and crannies that sinners fit into, he missed one. He missed the place in hell specifically dedicated to people who bring infants on transcontinental flights.
Before anyone gets mad at me, let me explain.

I'm not talking about people who have no choice but bring their infant. ( I personally like to pretend that each squalling baby is flying to a life-saving surgery performed by brilliant, but personally troubled surgeon. It keeps my patience in check.) I'm talking about people who bring little- bitty babies on vacation.

Here's the thing. Babies hate flying. They hate takeoff, which can actually be quite painful for them because they can't always equalize the pressure in their ears. They hate the noise. They hate all the strangers. They hate landing. They hate the whole thing.
I know, I know nobody really enjoys long flights. But imagine how uncomfortable you get on an airplane. Then imagine that your only way of expressing your discomfort is incessant screaming.

I don't know if it's scientifically proven, but it's my personal theory that most human beings are hard-wired to pay attention to a baby's screams. Whether we want to or not. So if you happen to be stuck in a plane's cabin, several thousand feet above sea level and 10 hours away from your destination, with a screaming baby ( or in my case, THREE screaming babies) you find yourself incapable of finding any distraction from it.
Three screaming babies for thirteen hours.

I'm not saying that the parents would have to go to the really deep levels of hell. Hey, maybe they could hang out with the virtuous pagans right beside the gate. All I'm saying is that if Dante Alighieri had been next to me on that Texas-Tokyo flight there would be a circle for people who bring infants onto transcontinental flights.

Unless... you know... there are three brilliant, but personally troubled Tokyo surgeons receiving patients right now.