Pitting parents against passengers
With the great summer getaway upon us, Sally Peck weighs up how to survive it
There is nothing worse than having your journey ruined by an obnoxious child having a tantrum – except for being the parent of that small person, pariah of all enclosed public spaces. Travel with a small child guarantees that, at some point in your journey, likely before the child has even made a peep, you’ll be the recipient of disapproving looks so venomous you might as well be ostentatiously urinating on the carpet of the plane, train or bus you occupy. As you navigate the world in the company of a small child, you’re guilty until proven tolerable.
So you can tell a lot about a parent by their behaviour on public transport. Some will attempt to distance themselves from their own child: who is this savage beast? I cannot claim it as my own. Watch my back as I skip off to business class and leave it in steerage (a true story of transatlantic child-custody-sharing).
Others, adopting a more socialist attitude to public spaces, think the entire community – sorry, planeful of strangers – should be responsible for the care of their offspring, though this is perhaps less “from each, according to his ability” than “from each, according to my child’s whim”. Why, after all, wouldn’t the man in 25C want my child to play with his comb-over? And isn’t the flight attendant here to ensure our safety and happiness? My child is happiest pushing the drinks trolley. Right. Over. Your. Toes.
On public transport, parents are worse than their children, displaying as they do a misplaced sense of entitlement. As with dogs, the fault lies entirely with the owner. Feel free to pass judgment. I do.
A few years ago on a budget flight without assigned seats, I watched a family of four – mum, dad, first-time flier children (ages four-ish and two-ish) – scan the aeroplane for seats together. Having found two adjacent seats for one parent-child pair, the father politely approached a couple in their fifties and asked if one of them would move so that he could sit next to his young and overwhelmed-looking daughter.
“No,” the couple replied in unison, with one elaborating: “We really enjoy flying next to each other.”
The flight attendant found someone else who was willing to swap, and each of these young children had the security of flying with a parent. And the fiftysomething lovebirds? They have the distinction of being the least empathetic humans I’ve ever seen. Win-win.
In the case of parents vs child-free passengers, we all have a stake. But here’s the bad news: no one has the moral high ground on public transport. Trips – on plane, train or bus – are the one situation in life in which we really, truly, are all in it together.
There are no winners – but there are manners. Here, then, are the rules to help you survive the great summer getaway.
When it’s standing room only
Parents say: Trains and buses are wobbly; fellow passengers must protect my child’s body and good humour by offering him/her their seat. Passengers say: I’ve paid my fare; I deserve first dibs at a nice sit down. Memo to everyone: Stop being selfish. Take the earphones out of your ears – you, too, mother with the sleeping toddler. So far have empathy and community spirit flown from our public spaces that the wheelchair vs buggy on the bus debate had to be decided recently by the courts. Rightly, wheelchair users – who have no alternative forms of transport – have been given priority.
But what about seats on buses and the Tube? This week Debrett’s, arbiter of all that is decent and British, ruled that adults should not feel compelled to give up their seats to children. Nor
should they. Most children can and should stand; when I was a child, we used to pretend we were surfing as the train cars careened through tunnels.
But make sure your child’s fun isn’t landing on someone’s shopping. If you see a tired, sad child – or parent – offer them a seat. There are energetic nine-year-olds and there are springy 90-year-olds. Assess the situation and offer your seat – not because they’re wearing a badge, but because you’ve noticed them and you care.
Earlier this week, an Essex mother posted on Facebook a photo of herself, standing while breastfeeding her child on a train as spry men sprawled out on seats around her. She aimed particular scorn at “the cyclist with a fancy bike that keeps rolling into me, [who is sitting] in the disabled seat”. It seems incredible that no one thought to offer her their berth.
When a child is getting their kicks
Parents say: Kids will be kids – especially when kicking the back of your aeroplane seat. How can I be expected to get my fun-loving child to sit like a statue?
Passengers say: It is objectively impossible to find something more annoying in traveldom than being kicked from behind.
Memo to everyone: A tough one, this. When I read a headline this week about an American family removed from a flight reportedly after their one-yearold repeatedly kicked the back of the seat in front of her, I did feel sympathy for the person with the seat back.
As with a dog, when you bring a child on a plane, you should bring it well-exercised, well-watered and fed; in prime condition for a nap. As backup, bring silent entertainment of proven popularity; 35,000 feet up in the air is not the moment to experiment. If you’re one of those smug parents determined to make everything a teaching moment, buy Knuffle Bunny Free, a charming picture book by Mo Willems. Spoiler: it features a young child with exemplary and empathetic in-flight behaviour.
And if you’re a child-free passenger, bring your manners. Know that the child will want to be on the move if they’re not asleep; facilitate this by offering an aisle seat.
People may hate travelling with your child – loudly, in front of you, they say: “I will not sit next to that monster!” – but that’s no reason to surrender your dignity. And whatever you do, beware the American trend for “reaching out” to fellow passengers. Pre-emptively handing out “apology packs” – party bags filled with sweets and ear plugs – to fellow passengers accomplishes one thing only: everyone on board already hated your kids. Now they also hate you.