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What Helps You Get Through a Commercial Airline Flight?
I’m on a cross country flight. It’s tight quarters with some pretty big guys. Some are truly professional flyers. Others jump on Southwest airlines and either complain about everything or gum up the works in the Lord of the Flies self-seating challenge. All of us, 150 plus, are on a five-and-a-half hour flight to Las Vegas. And, no, I don’t like it.
I’ve taken this flight out about 25 times. Thank God, I’ve taken about 25 flights home. I’ve never liked it. That’s not to say I haven’t liked it more on some flights and less on others. It’s just that flying 500 mph inside a hollow metal tube, 35,000 feet above sea level (like it matters if it’s above the water), isn’t my preferred mode of travel. Transporter, pneumatic tube, maybe.
Sometimes the weather is bad, but the flight is smooth. Sometimes, the weather is poor at takeoff, but within five minutes, you look out the window and you’ve been inserted into a United Airlines commercial from the 90s: blue skies, setting sun, and an attractive flight attendant taking care of your every need.
I would rather be inserted into a Star Trek Zero G chamber or some other contraption–something where you don’t sense every last bump and yip that you inevitably feel when a wonderfully- engineered, 50-ton piece of metal and electronics (and don’t forget the flammable fuel in both wings) launches itself into the lower troposphere.
In other words, I need to medicate before I travel. Most of the time, the medicine has a first name: Jack, Jim, Tito. It helps, but I’m never intoxicated enough to forget I’m 35 thousand feet above the earth, my life in the hands of a pilot I’ve never met.
And as much as I enjoy a nice Jack & Diet Coke, and no matter how much I like to pray, it’s a battle each time I walk down the poorly carpeted jet-way and through the door, greet the preternaturally optimistic flight attendant, and sneak a peek into the cockpit, hoping to see a clear-eyed soul with a cross on his collar, greeting me with, “Don’t worry, Buddy, I love my wife and four children like nobody’s business, and I’m scheduled to go on vacation tomorrow.”
I think I’ve flown about a million miles. I like airports. Specifically, I like airport bars. I think it’s pretty cool to be carded at age 50. I like the beefy, retired New York city cop manning the Las Vegas C Terminal sports bar asking me if I want a five dollar shot to go with the eight dollar Bud Light (I save that for my third beer). I like watching ESPN without the sound and closed captions. I wonder what the heck Skip Bayliss just said to Stephen A. Smith. I like meeting the nice couple who flew out to watch the grand kids because their daughter and son-in-law went on a cruise.
I like the crab cake omelet in Obrycki’s in the BWI B terminal. I like empty back rows on a smooth Southwest flight from Las Vegas, as the sun sets. For some reason, I like country music better as I fly over fly-over country.
So, Ricochet folks, is there anything you like about airports, airlines, and long distance travel?
Published in General
I flew every week for over thirty years, usually to two or more cities. It is one of the experiences where I can say without any hesitation has definitely deteriorated beyond imagination.
I started in the late 60s early 70s (The Mad Men era to those of you who have trouble with facts and dates) and remember when people actually dressed for travel. Suits, dresses, it was quite an event. Seats were bigger, even in coach, the food was decent and the aircraft were just as fast. (This was back when we knew how to go to the Moon).
Over the years, I accumulated million miler status on a few airlines and enjoyed the perks that came with being a regular experienced traveler. Airport clubs, free upgrades, personal agents.
I do remember one flight attendant on a late night flight out of Chicago. I had gone up front to stretch my legs and get some ice water. She called me by name, thanked me for my years of being a frequent flier. She then said “We checked your history. If you worked for the airline, the FAA would not let you fly this much” We had a good laugh.
Even before 9-11, the system was breaking down, the hub systems were getting creaky and delays and cancellations became commonplace. Seating in coach became an exercise in profit maximization and service went to hell. After 9-11, the entire regime of the TSA took a breaking system and coated it with a nice veneer of inefficiency so monumental that actually getting on a crowded plane seemed preferable to the airport experience.
In my current life, we drive. I fly maybe once a year and remember the old days, when Sinatra singing “Come Fly With Me” could evoke a magical experience.
Hey,DrewInWisconsin,
As a confirmed/certifiable/self-described control freak, is it ok if I borrow your line
“prefers being fully engaged in the process?” Makes me sound almost normal. Or like an engineer.
I haven’t flown in over 20 years. I tell people it’s because of claustrophobia, but it’s really the control thing.
I’ve flown on a corporate jet once. I pretend it didn’t really happen so I don’t constantly compare the experience.
I actually don’t think most people hate flying. They hate airports.
I love flying. I love airports. One of the great places to “people-watch”. Even though it isn’t what it use to be, it is still amazing in nearly every way. And yes, the TSA is awful.
First, I’m going to neatly step around that metaphor . . . ; )
I’m thinking more of all those tips and suggestions before you even get to the airport: book on this website, use this credit card, upgrade to that package, use this web deal-e-o to select your seat, print out this pass for pre-boarding, . . . things that have little to do with the actual flight.
For me, even the first step — trying to find the right ticket price — is annoying, because any given flight could have a dozen different prices depending on which website you’re checking on which day at what time of day.
Then there’s the airport itself. I used to love going to the MSP airport even if I wasn’t flying. Just loved wandering around all the gates and the little airport shops. Now you can’t get much farther past the front door unless you’re actually flying. And it all feels like some intense maximum security facility run by abusive morons.
I suspect I might enjoy flying if the whole thing didn’t require so much strategic pre-planning.
Yeesh! I thought I was a control freak!
It’s really not anything like that at all.
More like a man who makes the best of a wife he hates offering tips on how to avoid divorce.
If flying was as easy as going to the ball-park, I might like it. Step to the ticket counter, pay for admission, go take my seat, enjoy the view.
I suspect that three or four generations ago, that’s how it was envisioned — something as easy and spontaneous as catching the downtown streetcar.
Wouldn’t it be great if it was?
No, it would still suck.
Well, sure, the actual “stuck in a ‘controlled falling’ tin can a mile over the earth” would still suck.
But at least we’d get to the sucky part quicker.
So here’s what we’ve learned – If you get wasted, cover your ears, close your eyes, pack nothing, and pay extra, then flying is entirely tolerable.
I know I’m late to the discussion, but Mrs. Tabby and I just flew cross-country to begin a two week vacation.
My coping strategy is, whenever I find myself getting frustrated, I think that the current state is what also allows us cheap fares (I am old enough to remember what it cost to fly before deregulation in 1978). I figure I can put up with a few hours of discomfort to have much more money to spend on the destination.
For the current trip, the airline offered an upgrade to first class in exchange for a couple of thousand dollars. Yes, the first class experience is nice, but we would rather put that money into nicer hotels and nicer restaurants at our destination, things we will experience over a longer period of time.
(Business travel is different, because of my desire to do useful work while in transit.)