God, I Hate Flying

An air travel rant. Cliché, I know…

There’s a reason it’s been twelve years since I’ve travelled by plane for something that was purely a pleasure trip. No matter how hard you try and how far in advance you plan, it is nearly impossible not to get fucked (hard and without lube) when using those little sardine cans in the sky. It’s absolutely nothing I’d ever do voluntarily, and for the past decade or more, it’s been something I only do because of relatives who live on the other end of the country–first mine, now Mark‘s. The thought of taking a “fun” trip to someplace that’s only realistically accesible by plane has pretty much  evaporated for me over the years. I couldn’t imagine getting on a plane if I actually had a choice.

I woke up at 3:30, after managing to get about two hours sleep, to make a 6:20 flight with my mom that was booked two months ago, so we could get decent seats. Upon waking, I immediately learned we’d been re-booked on a flight leaving three hours later, and arriving four hours later. Aside from the special excitement of an extra hour in the Atlanta airport, there were, of course,  only middle seats left on the new flight. This is unpleasant news for most people. For someone of my size (and increasing level of claustrophobia), it almost inspires panic attacks. Seriously. I haven’t been able to get back to sleep thinking about it; I feel my chest tightening up and my heart pounding, and I even considered scrapping the whole trip for a second or two. This is one of my nightmares. That’s why I book so fair in advance; so I can avoid this scenario.

Yes, I understand that I don’t fly often and that frustrations like this are an everyday occurrence for people who do–like my poor husband, who has spent many nights in airports in the past few years. But that’s sort of the point. I would fly considerably more if it weren’t such a gut-wrenchingly miserable experience, and if there were some viable option between first class and hell.

Or if they at least provided lube…

Comments

God, I Hate Flying — 5 Comments

  1. Not to answer for David, but I bet his thoughts on this are similar to mine: I once contemplated the idea of traveling internationally “someday” “when I had the money”, but recently realized that the delay was self-induced. International travel involves expensive airfare, more expensive hotels, and usually coping with a language I don’t understand.

    All three of these make traveling internationally a pain that just doesn’t get compensated by fancy scenery and interesting food and such. There are plenty of interesting and dazzling domestic destinations that I could spend the rest of my life visiting by car, bus and train, all whilst being far more comfy than equivalent foreign aero-only destinations.

    The wanderlust has also severely abated the more I travel for work and family needs…

  2. Kind of makes you pine for the days before deregulation when the prices were fixed so airlines had to compete with things like champagne flights, more leg room, an open bar in the back of the plane and I don’t know, having flights leave and arrive on schedule, but think of the $30 you saved with all the competition.

  3. The worst of it for me and people “of our size” is dealing with the jerks in the seats in front of me that insist on leaning their seats as far back as possible the second the plane lifts off ground. I have no reservations about poking the back of their seats with my knees.

  4. Дмитрий pretty much covered it, although I still retain a fair amount of wanderlust.

    And yes, I poke the recliners as well. My mom is even more vicious.