Can a Baby Carry 50 Pounds Each for International Travel

The first time I vacationed alone, I was 27 years old and had yet to meet my husband. I dropped $767 on a round-trip ticket to Greece and spent a week frolicking about, lazily drinking assyrtiko while watching the sun dip behind the horizon on the westernmost edge of Santorini and chatting up guys on the beach in Edem, outside Athens. Although I made friends—most memorably, a 50-something ex-NYPD cop and his sister—I was so firmly solo that in order to get a photo of myself, I had to prop up my Canon DSLR on a rented ATV and set the timer. (This was the pre-selfie era.)

This summer, nearly a decade later, I set out on another solo adventure, this time to review a handful of newly opened hotels for Conde Nast Traveler. Never one to pass up a good personal challenge, I decided to bring my favorite carry-on: my one-year-old son Miles.

The plan: ignore the many, many friends and family members who told me that I had lost my marbles; take an Amtrak to Washington, D.C., to check into The Dupont Circle Hotel; hop on a quick flight to Montreal to visit the new Four Seasons Hotel Montreal; and drive to Boston for five nights, swinging through The Whitney Hotel, Encore Boston Harbor and the Four Seasons Hotel, One Dalton Street.

My husband and I have traveled plenty with Miles (and we've also snuck in trips without him). But this task felt particularly daunting: 1,310 miles, five hotels, three cities, and three modes of transit—planes, trains, and automobiles—all in four weeks. Here's what I learned about myself, my kid, and the kindness of strangers along the way.

Amtrak Red Caps are the difference between train calm and train chaos

I'll be forever grateful to Corina Quinn, Traveler's City Guides Director, for telling me about Amtrak Red Caps, a free service (available in major cities nationwide) that offers baggage-handling assistance—as in, someone to physically cart your stuff—and early boarding. I never quite realized just how wholly critical the service is until Miles and I were waiting to board a train from New York City to Washington, D.C., and I wondered how I could possibly survive the inevitable bum-rush toward the gate—suitcase, diaper bag, stroller, baby, cold brew, and all. I swung by the Red Caps desk, made my presence known, and the next thing I knew, we were being escorted down to the platform before the gate had even been announced. Faced with a completely empty train car, I nabbed an unoccupied accessible seat at the end of the aisle, and kept my stroller open—and Miles napping soundly—for much of the ride. Needless to say, I didn't sit in the Quiet Car with a baby (don't be that guy), but I did tip the Red Cap well.

Miles exploring the bathroom at the Encore Boston Harbor

Sarah Firshein

The right baby gear makes all the difference

Well-designed infant gear should always make things easier, and that's especially true when you're maneuvering it alone. Although we use an SUV-size stroller when we're home in Brooklyn, I swear by Babyzen's Yoyo+ on the road. It's a 13.6-pound travel stroller that fits into most overhead bins, collapses and unfolds with one hand, and hangs on your shoulder like a tote bag (even with the leg rest, a godsend for on-the-go naps). This proved especially clutch at LaGuardia airport security, where I was forced to collapse it while also balancing Miles on my hip. (A stranger offered to hold him; I politely declined.)

Also in my arsenal: Baby Buddy snap ties that affix toys to the stroller (so you're not constantly bending down to pick them up); Bombol's ingenious, collapsible Pop-Up Booster, which turns any seat into a high chair (so you're not waiting for housekeeping to bring one up to your hotel room); and OEE's six-piece set of packing cubes (so you can label gear by function and grab exactly what you need, at exactly the moment you need it, whether it's diapers, bottles, or toys). And knowing that we would spend minimal time in cars once we landed in Montreal, I didn't bring a car seat (or buy Miles his own plane ticket), keeping him on my lap instead (in Ergobaby's 360 All Positions Baby Carrier) during the hour-long flight.

It's wise to bring a letter of consent if you're flying internationally

I was on cloud nine when Miles and I landed in Montreal—he had napped for most of the short trip, my minimalist packing strategy would have made Marie Kondo proud, and I was feeling especially eager to check out the new Four Seasons. All was peachy until I reached the immigration agent. "Where's your letter?" she asked, glancing down at Miles, then back up at me, as if trying to assess our genetic similarities. "What letter?" I replied. "Your consent letter to travel with him," she said. "He's my kid and I give consent," I retorted, suggesting that she call my husband to verify that I was not, in fact, smuggling our much-loved little boy across international borders.

Ultimately, she waved us through. But lesson learned. A parental consent letter, a notarized letter from the non-traveling parent confirming that it's okay for the other parent to travel alone with their child or children, is meant to safeguard against abductions and foul play in child custody battles. It's not an official government document (the State Department has guidelines), requirements vary by country (whoops, Canada recommends them), and immigration agents are known to question at random. Although Miles and I don't share a last name, parents with the same last name as their kids aren't necessarily given a pass. And while you may very well not need to use your letter, my experience suggests that it's best to have one, just to be safe. Other documentation proving guardianship, such as a birth certificate or adoption paperwork, can be an added layer of protection.

It's important to identify what kind of help you need—and ask for it

Most of us aren't inclined to implore service-industry staff to bend over backwards, but I've found there's nothing a good hotel won't accommodate. When I requested whole milk, all three Boston properties—Encore Boston Harbor, The Whitney, and Four Seasons One Dalton—also carted up mini-fridges, no questions asked. Extra towels provided padding for my makeshift diapering stations: the console under the TV at the Dupont Circle, the dresser at Four Seasons Montreal. At restaurants, large tables meant the difference between lovely, peaceful breakfasts and cataclysmic spills. Even at LaGuardia, asking the restroom attendant for an accessible stall was the difference between a changing station and no changing station at all. Sometimes, the seemingly smallest request can be a huge help, so learn to ask nicely, express thanks, and tip well—your kid will be watching.

You'll have lots of conversations with complete strangers

When I embarked on this trip, I was mentally prepared to contend with long stretches of loneliness; there's only so much you can say to someone who can't yet talk. Yet babies, apparently, are great conversation starters. A D.C. Uber driver showed me photos of his kids, as did several front-of-house staffers at The Pembroke, the onsite restaurant at the Dupont Circle. I heard some variant of "it goes by fast" daily. I was also told several times that "mothers have the hardest job in the world." (I don't disagree.) The idle chatter went a long way in making me feel connected to other adults.

You—and your kid—are more resilient than you think

As one hotel stay ballooned into five, I watched Miles adapt to new circumstances, navigate new spaces, and interact with new people. He was perfectly content sleeping in cribs in bathrooms (albeit gorgeous marble ones) at the Dupont Circle and Four Seasons Montreal. He was poked, prodded, and squeezed. Servers asked him how he liked his eggs and hash browns, then laughed at his gap-toothed grin. Fellow hotel guests engaged him in impromptu rounds of peekaboo; staffers chuckled when he waved and shrieked.

Inspired by my one-year-old, I summoned some resiliency of my own. Even the worst moments (say, a puke-covered backseat on I-95 North) forced some good life skills (say, learning to remove and clean the car seat cover myself). Not every moment was fun, but the overall experience was joyful through and through—even more joyful than gallivanting around Greece on an ATV.

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Can a Baby Carry 50 Pounds Each for International Travel

Source: https://www.cntraveler.com/story/what-i-learned-while-traveling-alone-with-a-baby

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