It went totally fine. All the things that people worry about (getting through security, baby ears popping, whatever) are no problem. Sure she cried on the plane some, but mostly she was really good, and anybody on the plane who was bothered can go to hell.
(hey dumbass who sat next to us - when you see a couple with a baby and they say "would you like to move to another seat" you should fucking move. And if you don't move, then you need to be cool about it. Jesus christ you all suck so bad, I'm fucking holding your hand helping you be a decent person, you don't even need to take any initiative, I know you all suck too bad to speak up and take the lead at being decent, but even when I open the door for you, you still can't manage to take the easy step. Amazing.)
Despite it being totally fine, it made me feel like I don't really need to do that again.
You just wind up spending the whole trip staring at baby anyway. You wind up spending a lot of time stuck in the hotel room, because she needs to nap, or you have to go back to feed her and get more toys, or get her out of the sun, or whatever. Hotel rooms are god awful. There's this weird romanticism about hotels, but the reality is they're almost uniformly dreary, in the standard shoebox design with light at only one end. My house is so much fucking better.
Like I'm in another part of the world, but I'm still just doing "goo-goos" and shaking the rattle, why do I need to bother with the travel if this is all I'm doing? And of course it's much harder because I don't have all my handy baby accessories and her comfy bed and all that. It made me think of those cheesy photo series with the baby always in the foreground of the photo and all kinds of different world locations in the background.