A Frequent Flyer Story
If you are someone who does business without territorial constraints and who often travels across the country or around the globe in your quest to seal a sweet deal, then it is likely that you are a so-called "frequent flyer" and perhaps a member of the Mile High Club, as well. Assuming that you are a seasoned air traveler, then you will surely appreciate this story.
These days, it seems exceptional fortitude is a must for traveling any great distance by air, especially if you travel in coach class. Years ago, I remember when air travel was much less painful than a visit to the dentist's office. The seats were bigger and the food was fairly decent, and sometimes even actually delicious. The aisles were wide enough for two average sized people to easily squeeze by without being accused of being untoward and consequently slapped or even worse. The passengers generally dressed with a certain amount of panache and the flight attendants were freshly scrubbed and not ill-tempered. The airports were never nearly as crowded and security was much less intimidating. In a word, air travel was "civilized". But those days are long gone for most air travelers, unless you're a top producer or a CEO traveling on the company's dime. Then of course you get the Barclounger with real Corinthian leather and your own entertainment center with surround sound and a 42 inch plasma HDTV, not to mention the really special spanking fresh flight attendants, a fountain of sparkling Moet, and a juicy filet mignon steak with Bearnaise sauce.
Anyways, I told myself the last time that I would not fly "cattle class" trans-continentally ever again, because it's just damn grueling. Besides the jet lag that you know you're going to experience, you might as well just prepare yourself for the likelihood of stress induced trauma from traveling in cattle class. Your only hope of avoiding such an ordeal is if you make a reservation and the airline overbooks and you happen to be fortunate enough to get bumped to business class. But that's like winning the pools.
In any event, on my flight back to the land to whence I had come, I noticed people boarding the jet plane with carry-ons bigger than Fat Albert, cumbersome things such as guitars, golf clubs, and what might have also been a kitchen sink. Christ! It was almost as bad as traveling across the desert in a intercity bus surrounded by ripened migrant workers and their livestock. But the most interesting aspect of the flight was a rather peculiar hippie sitting across the aisle from where I sat (the one who had brought the guitar on board) who apparently was not enjoying the flight at all (and who could blame him) because other than those times when he went to the lavatory, he kept a blanket draped over his head and body during the entire flight even when he ate his meals. I can only guess that the hippie was making a statement about the indignity of traveling in cattle class or maybe he was simply bonkers from tripping too much...in cattle class. Have another theory? Be sure and leave a comment.
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