NOTHING BUT AIR

I love air travel. Yeah, I know, in this modern day of the (literal!) "airbus" it has a lot of challenges. Seating room. Line queues. Security (which I have come to label "domestic customs"). 

Other passengers. Definitely other passengers.

Just this last Sunday, on a flight from DC to LAX we had three, count 'em, three aggressively entitled  passengers who really didn't care how much they took advantage and undercut other passengers, they paid their ticket and felt entitled to rule the roost.

The first was a women in her fifties who arrived at the gate in a wheelchair. Then, after the attendant had gone off to handle a truly deserving passenger, the woman stood up, grabbed her suitcase and trundled very capably off to shop or find dinner. Coming back later she betrayed no signs of an inabiity or discomfort in her walk. Just laziness.

Upon arrival, a wheelchair greeted her at the aircraft door.

The second was a man who slipped not two. Not three. Not four. But FIVE items into the overhead, taking up full suitcase room with each of them. Watching this I'd had enough and told the guy he needed to put some of that under my seat - he was seated behind me - and save some room for other passengers. He unloaded an invective which cannot be repeated here, but it had to do with minding my own business, he'd paid his fare and was entitled to the slots, etc. Finally another passenger just looked at me and said I should forget it. The man's wife was thoroughly embarrassed by his tirade, and we watched as several other passengers uselessly searched for a spot for their own luggage.

Nasty customer

 The third and final asshat was a passenger (not the one pictured above) who needed something from the overhead bin while the aircraft was parked on the tarmac waiting for our gate to open after touchdown. In complete violation of crewmember instructions, and several federal laws, she stood up and opened the overhead. The flight attendant came on the PA and said, in a generic fashion, that we were on an active taxiway and "passengers" had to sit down. The woman ignored the request,  retaking her seat only once she was done with finding what she needed - two announcements, each more specific, later. Then, apparently having gotten the wrong thing, stood up again to get into her luggage. On an open taxiway, in violation of several Federal laws. She didn't sit down again until the flight attendant, on the overhead, threatened to have her arrested.

But I continue to love air travel. It's a gateway to adventure

that can sometimes be an adventure, in and of itself.

AIRPORT PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE (OR, "THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF GOD...")

"Patience is not simply the ability to wait - it's how we behave while we're waiting."  
                                                                   - author Joyce Meyer






We've all had bad days, many of which may take place at an airport. Let's face it: airports are ripe for bad-dayage in many ways. 

But maturity tends to bring a bit more patience and when we're confronted by a challenge we respond with more of a "okay, so how do we fix this" instead of the more youthful "it's YOUR fault and you need to fix it NOW!"

Most of us, that is.

A couple of years ago I was on my way from Long Beach to Las Vegas, and rather than drive I made the decision to fly. Time-wise it would take longer, but it would give me time to do a little work as well as not be concerned with spending nine hours (round trip) on the road. But fate can be a bitch when she wants to be, and the most convenient flight to Vegas wasn't a JetBlue direct flight, but a USAir (*now American) indirect flight through Phoenix.

Phoenix is not, for the record, my favorite airport, and I've learned to navigate it pretty well and never missed a connection. Sky Harbor is a leviathan of an airport, and gates are often ten or fifteen minutes apart, depending upon the crowd you encounter upon arrival.

Phoenix International

I arrive in Phoenix and it's a mess. Rush hour and tens of thousands of people thronging their way through the walkways between gates. I make my way to my connecting gate well ahead of time and start looking around for a place to sit. That's when I notice the very long line at the gate counter, and I look up at the flight information to note that my flight is delayed by a couple of hours.

It happens, but it's never a fun thing. As I'm settling in for the long run I overhear that another flight to Las Vegas has been canceled,  and they're trying to rebook as many passengers as possible on this flight. Again, it happens, but it's never a fun thing. At least the flight is a short one and the compressed cabin will be only a brief test of passenger endurance.

The ZEN of Flying...and waiting

I note, however, that the additional delay has not gone over well with a handful of the people from the earlier canceled flight. One man, in particular, seems very agitated. He and a couple of other passengers grumble loudly and head off "to the bar".

Two hours later we get additional bad news.

The aircraft we expected to board has been  pulled for maintenance. The air conditioning isn't functioning correctly and the inside of the jet is over 100F. Ouch.

(Now, I will say up front and freely that if an airline wants to pull an aircraft for maintenance they have my FULL and unwavering support. If they're not comfortable with putting it in the air, I'm not comfortable boarding. Delays are no problem, provided we work together to get me where I need to go.)

The expected time for them to get another aircraft adds another hour to our delay. Ugh. Three hours total. Luckily I don't have any appointments in Vegas that afternoon, though this means we'll be arriving at around 6pm instead of the expected 3.

The promised land

Oh. And we're moving gates from the very end of one PHX terminal, to one about halfway up the adjacent terminal wing. Only about a five minute walk. As a large group. Lots of grumbling and unhappiness, and I note the agitated guy is nowhere to be seen. Likely still in the bar, which is not good news.

We get to the gate and at this point I've started talking to some of the other passengers who are themselves frequent flyers. (Frequent flyers kinda recognize each other. It's a weird experience, but you can see them in the way they stand and the way they respond to the terminal around them. Can't really explain.) (Well, that and we tend to have the smaller carry-on bags.)

We buckle down at the new gate, and it turns out several people noted Mr Agitation. And we're all wondering what will happen when he gets back to the gate to discover we've all left without him. There have been numerous announcements of the gate change, so maybe he heard it from the overhead.

Decaf...

No such luck. Twenty minutes or so later he appears at the desk, yelling at the gate crew about the changes and delays. No amount of explanation is going to help, and the fact that everything is out of their control means nothing to him. He leaves, loudly, and is still angrily talking up a storm as he sits down.

A few minutes later an aircraft we are told is from the maintenance area pulls into the gate. The flight crew will go on board to check the systems and begin readying the aircraft for flight. A half-hearted cheer goes up.

And then it happens. You can see nobody at the counter wants to make the announcement. Finally the senior person gets on the overhead to let us know that, ahem, the aircraft isn't fueled and we'll need to wait until the jet fuel company can bring over a tanker truck and fill 'er up.

Just say "no"

Predictably there are more comments from Mr Agitation. He departs again "for the bar".

(Side note: you can see where this is going. Strong recommendation from anyone who flies regularly is "if things get hairy, DO NOT drink alcohol". Just sayin'.)

The truck and Mr Agitation arrive back at the gate at around the same time, and we're told, via overhead, that it will take about ten minutes to compete the refueling and we would probably start to board. This is too much for Mr A, and he storms the desk, screaming and cursing in a way that would embarrass even a sailor.

The gate personnel try desperately to cool the situation, but it's not working. He retreats but then reconfronts the staff. Eventually -- all this occurring as the other passengers watch the entertainment wishing we had popcorn -- security is summoned and he is questioned. Voices are lowered. He realizes the very thin ice he's on, and he agrees to calm down. Security hangs around just in case.


Minutes later, to an honest cheer and clap, we're told we're boarding, and my group is called first (the benefits of frequent flying..). The two guys I've been talking to also queue up and we're passed through to take our seats. The rest of the process is going relatively smoothly, when Mr A boards and loudly announces "It's about fucking time!", apparently assuming the rest of us are on his side.

No need to be like that

Personal Note: 

"Dear Mr. A,

Not on your side.

The Passengers"

Mr A disappears into the rows behind me, dragging a larger-than-permitted "carryon".

We wait for it. Amused glances from several of us who have bonded over Mr. A's tribulations. 

It takes just a moment. Then, from the back: "Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME!!!" 

And boom, there he goes.

Voices, and finally calm. Mr A seems mollified. The flight attendance all are exchanging glances which tell us the story isn't finished.

Las Vegas

The last of the passengers board and the usual announcements are made. The head flight attendant keeps looking out up the jetway, and sure enough she gets on the overhead to announce one more brief delay. A slight second later two security officers board the plane and escort Mr A off to a fair round of applause.

The doors are closed and we finally taxi and lift off to Las Vegas. 


We arrive three and a half hours late, directly into the middle of a raging storm.

But that's a story for another time.

DISPATCHES FROM THE ROAD: My Fellow Passengers

"Try to start a conversation at a cocktail party about how much you love your old-line carrier and see how long it takes someone to throw a canapé at you."           - Fred Reid

My fellow frequent flyer...

There are times when the dichotomy between passengers on a flight amuse me.

To my left, in the last row of the cabin, sits a little boy of perhaps seven or eight. He's already a seasoned traveler, he tells me in an enthusiastic voice, having flown, by himself, some eight times. His parents, presumably divorced, live in Long Beach and Seattle, respectively. Or at least those are the airports at either end of his journey. He's what in Hollywood they would call "precocious" on a casting call sheet, though in a sweet way. Very assured of himself, he will opine on any topic (asking what game I was playing on my iPad, he labeled Scrabble boring!) (The exclamation point was his.) He's well behaved and a rather nice young boy, though prone to trying to get attention by singing along to music on his headset a bit louder than warranted, and speaking in a tone of voice best reserved for an outdoor playground under a busy flight path. And scrambling across the seats when it comes time to visit the lavatory.

To my right, across the aisle, is a younger woman, dressed in a pink hoodie, who seems disinclined to socialize. Head down on the tray table she's giving off the strong vibe of being seriously hungover and just wishing the world would go away. Not unpleasant, just distinctly not wanting to be awake at the moment.

Next to her are two women who, from appearances, are mother and daughter. Both adult. Very nice, they are spending their time watching Food Network (we're on JetBlue) and trading comments every once in a while. Pink Hoodie couldn't care less.

In the row directly in front of me is a woman with two preteen girls, who are delighting in talking to each other and Mom. A very active conversation, without being distracting to other passengers, the two girls are clearly having an adventure. There's a little bit of voyage narration from the one next to the window, keeping her seat,ate apprised of the various spots and sights she is viewing out of the porthole. 

"I can see clouds. I am looking down on the tops of clouds."

"There's a big mountain down there. Look!"

"We're over California now!" The middle seat sounds impressed. "No, I saw it on the map on the tv screen."

And so on. The girl in the middle seat seems to be having some issues with the tv screen not being a touch-screen. Ah, youth. What would they make of the Commodore 64, I think to myself.

Pink, sleeping

Across the aisle from them is a single woman who is doing a good job of sitting back and watching HGTV while munching on pretzels and a 7Up. A dad and his son sit in the middle and window seats. Dad us focused on ESPN while the kid is tuned to the Cartoon Network.There are three attendants on board, and I get to know two of them pretty well. One is quite young and I think relatively new. I overheard her ask the more seasoned attendant if she could make an announcement. The more seasoned is a very pleasant woman with the appropriate name "Song". She and I trade a few niceties during the flight, and she clearly understands that a single male business traveler is not the best seat partner for a kid traveling solo, but we're making the best of it. The boy is really a nice kid, if enthusiastic.Okay...the kids just interrupted me..."look, look look!" I looked over in time to see a final scene from an animated tv show clearly meant for adults. Two characters, animated, partially undressed and having a good time, were rolling ardorously across the table at some sort of dinner event. The people at the primary table were doing their best to ignore it, but the kid next to me excitedly told me about how they were rolling around and almost naked. He described in a distinctly non-golf voice. Naked! Exclamation point!

The ever-popular lavatory

Okay, I'm not a parent and normally these things don't bug me, but what do you tell a kid who just watched that sort of thing? Really. I want to know!

The flight is beginning to wind down. According to the flight map we're approaching the Los Angeles metro area, though still at 35000 feet at moving at some 600 miles per hour. The flight's pretty choppy, but this doesn't prevent a handful of people from making that last-minute haj to the lavatories.

A sudden dip and change in the engines indicates we're beginning our descent into Long Beach.

Just another day at the office, I guess. Next week I'm starting an extended vacation and, as promised, you can follow along here and on Twitter. Headed to the Land Down Under...where men ..... And women......

Or so I've heard.

Ah. Seat belt light is on, and it's time to make ready for landing. Catch you on the flip side.

The Friendly Skies