That's what I was told by our flight attendant this weekend on our way home from New Mexico. All passengers had finished boarding, and Matt and I settled into our seats....the very last seats in the back of the plane (you know, right in front of the bathroom?). I was actually relieved to be sitting in that seat in case I needed to get up and use it, or you know, in case I went into labor on the plane at least I could have an ounce of privacy being totally in the back. (Yes, that was in the back of my mind...our first flight had quite a bit of turbulence, making me feel not so well, and every time I stepped onto a plane this weekend, I could see the thoughts running through people's minds as they looked unamused at my belly....this lady is going to give birth on the plane and make us all late.)
Anyway, the flight attendant came back and announced to us, "We have a problem. There is too much weight in the back of the plane (catch her glance at me). We are going to need to move you." Hmm, why didn't the captain come over the intercom and announce, "Would the pregnant lady in the back, yes you - with the calzone stain on the front of your shirt, please move forward so we can get this plane off the ground?" Now, I'm not sure if I shared the whole story about Matt telling me months ago that to be helpful at the gas station I could sit on top of the car to keep it from blowing over. (He didn't really mean it.) Well, that cute little comment doesn't hold a candle to my preventing a large aircraft from taking off the ground!! True story, true story. As we moved to our new seats towards the front of the plane (excuse me, pardon me, excuse me), I waved goodbye to the bathroom and flight attendant (ahem, private) area.