They usually get air-sick in the air. We hadn’t even closed the cabin door yet! Kid’s Mom and Dad were arming themselves with sicksacks and the flight attendant reported that the poor guy was dry heaving (as he’d been sick since yesterday and that this was somehow okay he must be getting better). I re-called the gate agent to the cockpit for consultation and with a glance back to the main cabin I could see the Father in 1st row, half submerged in the inflight mag pretending to read. Like he didn’t know what the bru haw haw and commotion was about. tisk,tisk,tisk.

Customer service queried for action advice: Do we boot this family off or trust the judgment of the parents. Not that I trusted the parents. I mean what Mom and Dad would send their child on a journey if he wasn’t well? No regard for passengers and contagions or worry for our squeamish FA, who said that she could handle blood or guts no prob, but PLEASE not okay with vomit. The consensus was: The parents ‘know what’s best’ and have rights as guardians. They ride. Once safely enroute, I learned from the FA that they were connection bound for Orlando, FL — ‘Tell me that they ARE taking him home to his bed— and NOT to Disney World ?!’, I pleaded. Oh-my-gawd! They wouldn’t… You don’t think they… Surely not!