Lisa Carnley is managing editor of the Lampasas Dispatch Record. What’s the quickest way to get from Terminal A to Terminal Z in a crowded airport?

Just have your 5-year-old push a stroller holding a screaming 1- year-old. You will be surprised at how quickly people get out of your way.

Thus began my first experience of flying solo with two youngsters.

While my then-5-year-old Jason considered it an adventure to see how many ankles he could run into with the stroller, his toddler brother Zach didn’t find it quite so amusing. And he let everyone know of his displeasure. Zach cried from the moment we hit the escalator to get into the airport until the plane landed in Syracuse, N.Y., where my parents live.

We drove to Dallas to fly rather than leaving from Austin because it saved a couple hundred dollars. At the time, the Killeen airport wasn’t like it is now, and the savings were significant.

Saving that money, though important at the time, didn’t seem as much a priority, though, when I actually found myself in the busy airport with two young children and two armloads of carryons.

We finally located an elevator and, for some reason, we had it all to ourselves as we headed to the security gate.

Jason found running through the X-ray area very amusing, although the Transportation Safety Administration officials did not. They searched our luggage -- thoroughly. They didn’t find Jason’s repeated attempts at dodging the X-ray machine entertaining either.

I had to remove Zach from his stroller, load all the carry-ons into the little plastic baskets they provide, corral Jason, and then we all made our way through the screening area. Not before it beeped. Twice.

Jason had Matchbox cars in each of his pockets. They don’t go through the metal detectors very well (actually, not at all).

By this time I was exhausted, and we still hadn’t even left the screening area. It was only 10 a.m., and we had been up for hours to make the drive to Dallas.

I knew I had a long day ahead of me.

But the excitement was just beginning for my 5-year-old.

You have heard those stories about kids who have to try out every bathroom they pass? That was Jason. Each time he saw a sign indicating a men’s restroom, he came to a quick stop, with no warning, and hollered that he had to “go.”

Of course, I wouldn’t let him go into the men’s room by himself, so that meant dragging him -- while he hollered he didn’t want to go with the girls -- a stroller with a screaming baby and armloads of carry-ons into the women’s restroom. And there was (surprise!) a line. A long line.

Trying to shove a stroller and several carry-ons with a mad 5- year-old and myself into a restroom stall didn’t work either. So I had to leave the stall door open. Even though I was able to block the view, Jason wasn’t happy about having the stall door open. So, guess what? He didn’t “go.”

We tried several more restrooms along the way to the gate because he insisted he really had to “go.” No luck.

When we finally made our way onto the plane and got buckled into our seats, Jason decided (guess what?) he had to go to the bathroom “for real this time.” And he let everyone know he had to “go bad.”

A nice stewardess, seeing my predicament with a still screaming Zach, agreed to take Jason to the bathroom. I thanked her (and secretly blessed and prayed for her).

About 10 minutes later, the stewardess brought Jason back to his seat and though she was polite, she wasn’t pleasant anymore. I got a sick feeling that things didn’t go well.

Jason piped up (loudly) with, “Did you know if you put a whole roll of toilet paper into the potty -- and a bunch of tissues too -- it won’t flush? It makes a bad mess, and it doesn’t smell good either.”

The stewardess then came over the loudspeaker and asked passengers to refrain from using the “forward” restroom.

As we prepared for takeoff, I could see Jason eyeing the compartment that contains the oxygen masks which drop in case of dangerous turbulence. He continuously snapped his seatbelt open and closed. Then he decided he had to “go potty” again.

It was clear there was going to be turbulence for the rest of the flight, but not the kind pilots have to navigate. Mommy was barely able to handle it, and we were just getting off the ground.

Soon it was time for the drink cart to come around, and Jason was thirsty. We were offered about 15 different selections from which to choose and, no surprise, Jason wanted to try them all. And Zach kept screaming.

I was right; it was a bumpy flight. And when we landed in New York, all I could think about was the trip home in just two short weeks. I vowed I would never attempt this trip again by myself. And I didn’t. From then on it was car trips and train travel. And those didn’t turn out so well either.

Maybe I just should have stayed home.