Free Dan Versus Nature by Don Calame Page A

a look over his shoulder. “This from the person cradling a relentlessly defecating toy child. The same individual who tried smuggling a year’s supply of hand lotion onto the plane.”
    “All right, guys,” Hank says. “Enough. How about we just relax and have some peace and quiet for the rest of the flight, hmm?” He rubs his temple. “I could sure use a break.”
    Fat chance of that, buddy.
We’re just getting started here.

We find our seats and strap in. Charlie takes the window so I can sit across the aisle from my future stepdad.
    I settle Baby Robbie in my lap, then take out another bottle filled with chocolate Yo-Gulp and shove it into his mouth. He starts to drain the thing dry almost immediately.
    Meanwhile Charlie is swabbing his video screen, tray table, seat belt, and armrests with a handful of disinfectant wipes. The harsh bleach smell burns my sinuses.
    I cough. “Jesus, Charlie. Really?”
    “You should do the same,” he says. “Sanitizing your surroundings is the first line of defense.”
    I give my seat belt the tug test as the plane backs away from the gate. “I’m more worried about falling out of the sky than catching a cold,” I say, loud enough for Hank to hear me.
    “Excuse me?” A female flight attendant with big hair and too much makeup stands over me. “I’m going to have to ask you to put your little dolly either in the overhead compartment or under the seat in front of you.”
    “Oh,” I say, flushing. “Yeah. This isn’t a doll. It’s a Baby-Real-A-Lot. It’s for school. If I put him under the seat or in the overhead, he’ll start crying.” I hold up my wristband. “And I’ll be docked compassion points.”
    “I see.” She fake-smiles at me, her makeup mask cracking at the corners of her mouth. “Well, then, I’ll have to ask you to hold him like a real baby when we take off, OK? In the burping position, with your hand supporting his head. Would you like me to show you how?”
    I shake my head. “Nah, I got it.”
    Another foundation-fracturing grin. “Excellent.” She pats my shoulder and continues down the aisle.
    I pull the empty bottle from Robbie’s mouth and return it to my bag. Then I turn to Hank. “Can you show me the burping position?”
    Hank’s got a camping magazine open in his lap. He looks over at me. “I thought you told the flight attendant you knew how to do it?”
    “Yeah.” I twist around and look back down the aisle. Then whisper, “But that’s because I was embarrassed.”
    “Well, just turn him around,” Hank says. “So he’s looking over your shoulder. Hold him to your chest. Support his head and bottom with your hands.”
    I furrow my brow. “I don’t get it.” I hold up the baby. “Can you just show me, please?”
    Hank exhales. Shuts his magazine. “Sure.” He reaches out and takes the doll from me. “I’ve never really done it myself. But I’ve seen my sister do it.” Hank turns Baby Robbie toward him and does exactly what he told me to do. “See. No big deal.”
    “Why does she want me to hold him like that?” I ask, stalling for time.
    “I don’t know,” Hank says. “I guess so he doesn’t go flying across plane if we stop suddenly.”
    Baby Robbie starts to whine.
    “Dang it. Again?” I look at my ID bracelet. “Could you pat his back a little? Before my neglect score goes even higher.”
    Hank gives the baby’s back a few taps. Baby Robbie whimpers even louder.
    “You have to jiggle him a bit,” I instruct.
    Hank holds the doll out to me. “Why don’t you do it? We wouldn’t want to cheat you out of the experience, now would we?”
    The plane starts picking up speed. Racing down the runway.
    “Oh, boy,” I say, pressing back into the seat. “We’re going.” I clench my eyes shut. “Could you hold him for takeoff, please? I have to . . . focus. I don’t really love flying so much.” I swallow. “I’ll take him back when we’re in the air. I promise.”
    I sit stock-still. Eyes