Verbose, Yet Not Interesting

Did you read about the airlines and their poor customer ratings? Southwest was highest, with a 79 rating, and second was American, with 62. Frankly, I think Southwest benefits from low customer expectations, but that's just me. They definitely have the commuter shuttle machinery down. However, I miss the days when I could fly to Paris, with room for sleeping, with a meal or two, with a couple of movies, and with stewards who didn't always look as if they hated their jobs with every fiber of their beings.

Alas, that was a decade ago. I haven't flown overseas since then. But if the domestic flights I've taken lately are any indication, and from what I've heard, it's not like that any more. I have plans to do more travel in the near future and I admit, I'm a bit anxious about it. Not only because of the increased costs and the downsizing of personnel and the increasing evidences of relaxed maintenance, but also because of corporatization.

But besides all that, fair reader, today I was listening to a radio program and the subject turned to air travel, with professionals in the industry calling in and sharing that their benefits have been reduced, including pay, vacations, discounts, and sick time. Not only that, but they have to do more work to compensate for decreased staff. The morale is not good, and the indication is that the more dedicated career people are leaving out of bitterness and frustration. Corporations don't care about that. They care about cutting corners, and if that means (my imagination taking over, here) not ordering enough bolts or skipping some of the equipment checks, so that the board members can maintain a full bonus schedule, then so be it.

Yeah, I'm a little trepidatious. After all, unlike John Travolta, I don't have my own fleet.

I was also treated to some insiders' information about those blankets and pillows people leave behind after the flights. One would think those would be picked up for cleaning and replaced for the next flight. No. Not unless there is obvious soilage. Otherwise, you get the ones that were sneezed on, used as napkins, stepped on, drooled on, or deposited with lice. Yes. The headrest area of the seat is rife with molecular variety. The pocket in front of you, where the inflight magazines are, may or may not be cleaned out, meaning you could find used tissues, gum, food wrappers, rinds, napkins, used cups, and even dirty diapers down there in the depths. The stewards now have to clean up after the passengers, and if they don't get to it...oh well.

At the risk of getting all political on your ass, it seems to me that if there are places we should be prioritizing right now, it's health care and flight safety. Those are two places where the common person doesn't really have a lot of choice or control. And, as it was during the foundation of this country, our focus should be on the common good. Not on the elite. People want to tell us that the elite know better, are smarter, work better, plan better and represent the product of the evolutionary process. But the founding fathers and mothers had already learned from their experience across the seas that the ruling, the nobles and the clergy do not represent the products of the evolutionary process, but the product of unbridled power and privilege. And they knew that the class and circumstance of its people have a great deal to do with the state of a nation. But we've chosen to forget lessons and to make mistakes, ones that are very often tragic, over again.

So, because of monopolies and corporatization and concentration of economic and political power, I just don't have a lot of warm fuzzy feelings when I get onto a plane.

To wit: I made a complete fool of myself on our recent flight home from vacation.

We scheduled our flight from Maui for the evening, to ensure a full day of fun before heading out. When we got to the airport, we learned that the flight would be delayed two hours. Now, I don't handle surprises or change very well, anyway. But when I find out that my flight's delayed, my mind goes to places of massive equipment failure, flaming steel, screaming infants, and a great deal of general vertigo. But my partner assured me that this happens all the time and now I would have plenty of time to sit and work on my crossword puzzles.

I prepared myself for the wait, and we relaxed until about 11:00pm, when they called for boarding. During the wait, we had learned that they had had to change planes. So, I thought, cool! They realized that another plane would be safer and more comfortable! This could be a good thing. Right?

When we stood to board the plane, we discovered that because we had checked in earlier in the day, and gotten our boarding passes on line before the plane change, our check-in didn't 'take'. Therefore, we weren't on the list. The consummate professional at the podium rushed away to get our seat assignments and boarding passes, and came back in the blink of an eye. I felt good about this attention to our needs. She explained that, because of the plane change and the delayed check in, our seats had been changed. But, she assured me, she definitely got us seated together. Very good! I smiled at her, and actually resisted kissing her.

She had good hygiene.

Our Plane (actual photograph)

Anyway, we boarded, and soon discovered that we were seated in the very back. The last row. I thought it was strange when my partner said, 'now we usually sit in the middle of the plane, but this will be very nice--right next to the bathrooms'. My first thought was, why would I want to sit next to the bathrooms? But I since realized that she had said this because she knew the back of a plane is not a prime placement for smooth sailing.

We were seated for ten minutes or so, wherein I checked out the safety procedures, the efficacy of the seatbelt, and counted the number of stewards in proximity. Then, the pilot welcomed us and assured us we would be taking off very soon, after they check on a slight issue with Engine Four.

An issue with engine four?!

My partner grabbed my hand, in somewhat the same manner as she would grab the dog just before she starts to panic and barks hysterically at the mail carrier, and said to me, "See? They're being proactive!"

This isn't how I was looking at it. I was looking at it as: okay. The reason we got bumped to this plane is because it was the very last plane in the fleet and the engines haven't been maintenanced since the first Gulf war. But I managed to calm myself, as everything continued normally, the passengers seating themselves, stewards checking overhead compartments and seatbelts, getting ready for the exciting beverage service procedures to come. The video monitors came on in preparation for our in-flight entertainment. All was normal.

About three minutes later, the videos and cabin lights crackled off and it was dark and silent. The pilot came on immediately to announce that there would be a check of the cabin's electrical, after which we would be departing very soon.

In the darkness I turned to my partner and said, "That's it. We're getting off the plane," and reached for my seatbelt.

My partner said, no we're not, this is nothing. (Which of course, reminded me of the scene in Monty Python And the Holy Grail, where the Black Knight declared, as he scuttled along the ground after having arms and legs hacked off, "This? A mere scratch!")

I said, "No, really. I don't mind rescheduling for tomorrow. I love Maui!"

"Just relax, it will be fine."

I pulled out every piece of reading and crossword puzzle material within reach and put my earphones in, even though there was nothing to listen to.

Soon afterward, the lights and monitors flashed on and soothing music began to play through my headphones. The pilot announced takeoff while the stewards took their places. I began to feel normal. Even comfortable. As comfortable as one can feel in 20 inches of seat. The engines began to roar, and the plane was taxi-ing and I could almost imagine the refreshing beverage I would be having.

We took off. It had been rainy and windy in Maui all afternoon, but after three and a half hours in the airport, that was a vague memory. The plane taxied, turned, took position on the runway. Even engine four appeared to be working perfectly. The roar in my ears was oddly soothing, and I prepared myself for the take off, which always proves challenging for me, even under the best of circumstances. But this time, the runway seemed a lot more bumpy than usual. Maybe they hadn't paved it in a while. Or, perhaps there was a mishap recently, which left it pocked and in disrepair. But that didn't matter, right? Because we wouldn't be on it that long.

The moment of liftoff was unmistakable, and I knew exactly when we were airborne. It was exhilerating and scary and reassuring, in terms of the fact nothing seemed to have yet fallen off of the plane. And clearly, the pilot was committed to this flight. It was exciting. After all, of the many people who were overworked and under-compensated, bitter about their fading retirement options and lacking in dedication to their profession, it wouldn't include the pilot, right? I mean, the pilot was surely a valued individual to the corporation, taken good care of, and therefore would do his utmost to ensure we arrived at our destination safely and uneventfully.

Very quickly, it turned ugly. The ascent was purposeful and inevitable. Regardless of the fact that the plane clearly was disentegrating.

It rocked, it rolled. It shuddered, held together by mere cables and rusty bolts. My fingers became one with the metal armrests. My knuckles were so white they glowed in the darkened cabin. I was leaning against my partner as if to the only lifeboat on the Titanic. I was muttering to myself about something I can't remember, but I think it had something to do with wishing I'd changed my beneficiary, since my partner was now doomed.

Then the plane made a turn. Regardless of our need to travel in a certain direction, the atmospheric forces had other goals for us, and made their assault with no regard for my dog's future. The engines were screaming, the seat was becoming unhinged from its mooring, and the baby in the seat in front of us just kept sleeping blithely on, as if we weren't seconds from a firey death.

Then, we hit a massive bump in the intergalactic plasma, and I felt, rather than heard, myself yell, at the very top of my lungs :

'DAMMIT!

'THAT IS ENOUGH, ALREADY!!!'

Needless to say, it was a while before I was served my refreshing Diet Coke.

Next up: Why boarding a plane isn't the thrill party it used to be.