NOW PLAYING: I Hate Flying

21 June, 1998
I hate flying. That wasn't always the case, and maybe it's an "aging" thing. The more I fly (and the older I get) the more I hate it.

It's not that I'm afraid of the plane crashing, or that I've had any real traumatic aviation experiences; the act of flying doesn't bother me in the least. Rather, it's the process that bugs the hell out of me.

Getting to the airport is a hassle. Parking is a hassle. (and at Atlanta's Hartsfield, they'll try to rip you off at the exit -- hand 'em a $20 and they'll hand you back change from a $10, and claim that's what you gave them...) Checking your bags is a hassle. Going through security is a hassle. Boarding the plane is a hassle. It goes on and on. Is there any part of the experience that doesn't suck?

I was certain that I was going to have the seat next to the immense woman standing in front of me at the baggage check. That seems to be my luck when I use "public" transportation. (the one trip I took on a Greyhound Bus when I was a teenager will be my last, God willing.... If you want to know, I'll tell you, but it was NOT a pleasant trip.) Where was I? Oh -- Immense Woman. It's not like there's a lot of space in those airline seats, and having the excess poundage of the passenger next to you spill into your space is not only uncomfortable, but irritating. Especially on a four-and-a-half-hour flight.

So as The Wife and I sat in the Departure Lounge, waiting for the boarding call for my San Francisco flight, I watched Immense Woman filling her face with breakfast morsels from Burger King, bitterly complaining that I would, without a doubt, be sitting there smelling grease oozing from the pores of the blob next to me on the plane for the duration. The Wife told me to Be Nice and Shut Up.

In a remarkable turnabout of my normal flying luck, though, Immense Woman had a seat farther back in the plane, as she trundled onto the jetway ahead of me. I was about to celebrate my good fortune when The Wife said, "Don't turn around."

I didn't have to. She knows that the worst thing I can face is a Screaming, Unruly Munchkin that is in close proximity to me. And as the words left her mouth, I knew -- knew, mind you -- that there would be a Rugrat kicking my seat from behind the whole damned way.

Well, I was wrong. The little Yard Ape is sitting in front of me, at times being quiet, at others squealing with some new discovery. Most often, It bounces back into the seat with all Its little might, and I dare not put the PowerBook on the Tray Table (keeping it instead in its "Upright & Locked Position") for fear that the violent rocking of the Munchkin's seat will toss the computer to the floor. I don't suppose a Dope Slap would be well received, either, so instead I place the laptop on my lap.

Part of the whole Flying Hassle is my own making, I know -- the evils of the Carry-on Bag. I can't remember a flight where I didn't have at least one. When I was a photographer, I had one or two bags of cameras and film. Now, I have computer to tote around. You can't check that stuff, even if you wanted to. Unless you pack your gear in one of those nice, shiny Zero Halliburton aluminum cases, which simply scream "Expensive Stuff! Steal Me!"

The only flight in recent memory that I can remember with fondness is a trip I took to Los Angeles, in which I somehow was booked into First Class. I didn't ask for that, and I didn't even know it until I got on the plane. "Seat 4-B?" I thought, "what have I got, the bulkhead?" Nope. I was in the heady realm of First Class, where they close the curtains on the Unwashed Teeming Masses back there in the sardine can that is Coach, serve you complimentary alcoholic beverages as soon as you sit down, give you "hot towels" and your own lavatory.

I had legroom, and buttroom, and Filet Mignon for dinner! And on a five-hour flight too! What a way to fly ... and I've never done it again. Costs too much. I don't know how it happened that time, but the ticket price didn't reflect it. If I had the money to burn, though, I would be in those big seats up front every single time.

And then I'd probably enjoy flying.

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