I do not have a fear of flying; I just
don’t like to do it. Short flights of two, maybe two and half hours or less I
can tolerate fairly well, though anything much longer than that I dread the
thought of; it’s akin to that one unpleasant task that you don’t really want to do.
You know that one thing you finally decided can’t be avoided and just need to
follow through on. I know flying is the most time efficient way to travel long
distances, I just don’t like that post-flight feeling of being beaten with a
phone book; there are no bruises though it sure feels like there should be some.
I basically walk out the gangway like I’m wearing a blindfold and only one shoe;
I usually end up walking into something. I pretty much have figured out that ugh
feeling has a lot to do with the fact I
can’t at any point say “Hey, Pullover, I want out”, like you can on a long car
ride; one can’t really do that at 35,000 feet up.
I count myself among the fortunate ones that
can fall sleep almost anywhere; I learned as a kid long trips mean lots of
naps. Take me on a long road trip by car
and you get pretty much the same; if you want someone to keep your company let
me drive a for a while, otherwise I’ll be leaving you with your own thoughts as
the miles melt away. However, it is not
so handy a trait during those often pointless meetings at work; that’s me standing
up in the back there so I don’t snap my
neck nodding. Plane trips usually turn into several 20 minute cat naps which
definitely make the time go faster, however I occasionally miss out on those
bags of 9 peanuts the flight attendants toss at you.
I also experienced my first peanut free flight when the flight attendant announced over the PA that we would only be given pretzels during one leg of our journey. I wasn't aware the airlines even did that type of thing, though it makes sense in recycled air 6 miles up for folks with peanut allergies. I’d sure miss my peanut butter if that ever happened to me.
I've come to the conclusion that airline
seats and Japanese motor cars are made for midgets. If you are taller than 5’10’
and weigh more than 160 lbs. you feel like a breakfast sausage; that same feeling
you get when you put on the suit that has been in the closet for 5 years and
the pants…are…a…little…snug! Phew! After
the combination over the past decade or so of some airlines going bankrupt
and a few others merging, it seems that the airlines that are left have pushed
the seats closer together to stuff a few more people in; I don’t remember
flying coach as being quite as cramped years ago. Then again I could just be a
cranky old man that doesn't like to fly.
There have always been PA announcements in
airports, though the post 9/11 announcement that runs on a loop makes me wonder what we have done to ourselves. You know the one I mean, it starts off with, “If any unknown person attempts…”, then
repeats itself 5 minutes later. I guess it must be geared towards the folks
that don’t heed the warning on the back of those sun shades we put in our windshields
out here; "Do not attempt to drive with sun shade in place". If you need to have that
announcement repeated to you ad nauseum you probably shouldn't leave the house.
Another aspect of the changes implemented
by the airlines over the past decade or so has been the decrease in the number
of non-stops. Now most flights have at least one stop and those layovers often
are so short you have to almost run from gate to gate depending on the
airport. Sometimes, like the layover we just experienced, they seem to never
end; ours did eventually since I’m writing this at home instead of Southwest
gate A10 in Baltimore. Our layover in
Baltimore was supposed to be only 35 minutes and we were supposed to stay on
the same plane and continue to Phoenix: I should have known that was too good
to be true. Fortunately for us we had no connecting flight to catch in Phoenix since
it ended up being a 3 hour wait, though I hoped no one else on our flight had
to make a connection.
We were told we needed to get off the
plane and wait in the passenger area for further instructions. So off the plane
we troggle to sit in the chairs by the gate and wait, about 10 fidgety minutes later with no updates the ornery goat that doesn't like to fly decided he
needed some instructions. As I walked up to the gatekeeper at his little podium
I overheard him tell the man that had beat me there by 3 steps to “please go sit and
wait sir there have been some changes to your flight and we will let you know more
shortly.” I previously worked for a
small commuter airline so I really didn't want to be “that” passenger so I went
and sat myself back down. I waited another 10-15 minutes during which I
saw several people attempt to elicit information from the gatekeeper; he just
stonewalled each one and shooed them away, then eventually disappeared. I decided to try
my luck at another desk and the woman behind the counter at least was kind
enough to tell me they were giving our plane to a group that had theirs delayed
and our delay would be about another hour, adding also they would have to find
us another crew as well. Really? Another
trip through Baltimore airport had turned into a delay. Why should I be surprised
its happened every time I've gone through there? It is the airport equivalent
of the Hotel California – you can never leave.
The situation evolved from the ridiculous
to the sublime a very short time later. That plane we came in on, the one that was
supposed to be used by the passengers that got hosed right before we arrived,
well that one was taken away so they had to wait for another one, which turns
out wasn't ready to fly either. I stood
up to go look at the board to see what time they had moved our flight to and it
had disappeared from the board! Right about now I am doing a slow burn, I
really didn't want to leave New York and I didn't want to have my next
birthday at the airport in Baltimore. I
walked up to the desk and asked a woman standing behind it, wearing makeup by the
pound, what was going on.
“Well sir it
seems the plane we were going to give your flight isn't ready, and it looks
like we are short a crew as well.”
“Why is it
every time I go through here there is an issue with the plane? Do you bring all
your broken planes to Baltimore?”
“Oh no sir Southwest
doesn't bring all its broken planes to Baltimore.”
Standing to
my right is another woman with a twinkle in her eye and a bit of grin who pipes
in with, “Well Baltimore is a maintenance hub for Southwest.”
“Ahh. Okay I
get it now, all the broken planes DO come through Baltimore.”
Queue the
crickets. The woman to my right, shrugs, as a smile tugs the corner of her mouth.
The woman behind the counter looks at me like she doesn't know whether to shit
or wind her watch. I thank the lady to my right and tell the Maybelline ad to
drink some more Kool-Aid, do an about face and head back to my seat.
Eventually we managed to find a plane and
a crew and made it into the air for the last leg of our trip home. The attendants
passed out free booze to those indulging and broke out the good stuff from the
snack bin - packs of cheese filled Ritz and mini Lorna Doones. I wolfed down my
share and settled in for my usual nod. We
finally arrived home a few hours later than expected, grateful neither of us had
to roll in to work the day.
I hope my next trip to Baltimore is to see
family and not as a stopover. If it is I’ll remember to bring a pillow and a
blanket in case the Hotel California is doing a thriving business.
