Flying Is Great, After the Wait

Just before heading to the airport on a business trip, a coworker asked, “Don’t you hate flying?”

I replied, “Actually, the flying part is fine. But I do hate the other aspects of air travel, all of which take place on the ground.”

Sure, I’ve had my share of unpleasant experiences in the air, such as turbulence, cramped seats, tiny airplane restrooms, screaming babies, and most frustrating of all, discovering that my individually wrapped packet of four peanuts contained only three peanuts. But all in all, I’m still amazed and delighted that a hunk of aluminum can go airborne in Connecticut and then barely two hours later touch down safely in Chicago. The “traveling in the air” part of air travel is great.

But everything that happens before and after being in the air is a royal pain. For example:

• Searching for and booking a flight — This is a very confusing, time-consuming, and expensive online exercise. Just when I think I’ve found a decent option, which takes me from Hartford to Chicago without a layover in Brazil, either there suddenly are no more seats available, or the price jumped from $325 to $925 because I waited one day too long. 

• Packing a suitcase — also known as the futile exercise of cramming 10 pounds of you-know-what into a 5-pound carry-on bag. This inevitably leads to hastily transferring everything into a larger suitcase, because it dawned on me that my business meetings in Chicago will be more successful if I’m wearing pants. So now I’ve got to check the bag, usually for a steep fee, and wonder if my luggage will actually reach Chicago the same day I do. 

• Waiting in line (part 1) to check the suitcase. 

• Waiting in line (part 2) to go through the security check point. 
  

• Waiting in line (part 3) to get a coffee and stale muffin for seven dollars. 

• Waiting in line (part 4) to get my boarding pass scanned and then proceed down the jetway. 

• Waiting in line (part 5) halfway down the jetway as dozens of people and their carry-on bags are bottlenecked at the cabin door. 
  

• Waiting in line (part 6) in the middle of the airplane aisle as people in front of me try to fit 10 pounds of carry-on baggage into a 5-pound overhead bin. (It’s almost as if the luggage manufacturers had a meeting: “OK, what’s the size of the standard airline overhead bin? 22 inches deep by 14 inches high? Fine, we’ll make all our carry-on bags exactly 24 by 16. Good job, fellas, let’s break for lunch.”) 
  

• Waiting in line (part 7) as the plane inches its way toward the end of the runway, while the captain says on the PA system, “We’re number 19 in line, folks, so we’ll be taking off, um, probably today.” (To be fair, this rarely happens at Bradley, where a flight takes off about once every 15 minutes, as opposed to O’Hare, where the rate is more like 15 flights per every one minute.) 
  

Finally, the plane is in the air and everything is fine — not counting the occasional turbulence, cramped seating, screaming babies, three peanuts, and exceedingly tiny restrooms. (Being inside the restroom when turbulence hits should be a ride at Six Flags amusement park. It’s a wild adventure, although the blue water splashing on your leg and the concussion aren’t much fun.)

Cruising at 35,000 feet, and arriving safely in Chicago in two hours is a marvel of science and technology. But then the plane touches down, and a whole new series of annoying ordeals ensue. I’d bore you with that list, too, but I’ve got to pack and get to the airport.