Where have the friendly skies gone? Well, skies are still friendly, at least staff-wise. Counter personnel and cabin attendants do their best to be friendly to all. Even the security inspectors do their best to be friendly and helpful, even when you forget that liquid in your carry-on luggage.
But the security inspection is the middle of the hassle that flying has become. The parking and drop-off areas are more and more crowded. The lines are long at check-in. Then you have to stand in a long line at security, empty your pockets of keys, change, and other paraphernalia (you did leave your pocket knife at home, didn't you?), take off your shoes and belt, and put your cell phone, PDA, camera, and laptop in the box. Because of the long lines, you feel rushed doing all of this.
You've successfully gotten through security without forgetting anything or without having anything confiscated, and now you can relax, sort of. You still have to find a seat in the lounge, hopefully enough together for all in your group. Thank goodness that airports are now smoke-free.
Finally your plane is ready to board. There's no hurry because they won't leave the gate until everybody is buckled in. Still, it is a pain to wait for somebody with their butt in the aisle while they put their stuff in the overhead bin. Then of course you have a middle or window seat and the person in the aisle seat is already in place, You finally manage to sidle into your seat, find the seat belt ends, and buckle up. If you're lucky the plane takes off in the next fifteen minutes.
The plane finally gets to cruising altitude and you open a book to read. But suddenly the seat in front of you comes practically in your face. The person in front wants to nap and doesn't even consider how close the seat top comes to you. It's even worse if you were hoping to work on your laptop.
If the flight is more than a couple of hours of long, you start to get tense in your legs because you can't move them much. It is almost too much effort to get out, even if you have an aisle seat. If you are on a transoceanic flight, the airline will run a video about exercise. The trim young lady is shown doing all of her stretches without a seat in front of her or any other passengers by her side. If you try any of these exercises, you bump your shin against the seat in front of you or put your elbow in your neighbor's eye.
Finally, after much fidgeting and catnapping, you land at your destination airport. As soon as the plane stops, half the passengers pop up and start getting their belongings from the overhead bins. If you have other luggage it doesn't matter how fast you get off the plane. Even if you're the last person off and walk very slowly to baggage claim, your baggage won't be ready.
When you get to baggage claim, half the passengers are jammed right up the the carousel, even if their bag is nowhere in sight. You have to watch carefully between heads or arms for yours. If it comes, you bowl three or four people over as you try to right your moving bag, get a good grip on it, and heave it over the lip of the carousel. On the other hand, in some ridiculously high percentage of the time, one or more of your bags may not arrive at all. This is especially true if you had connecting flights, even on the same airline.
Matters are more complicated if your flight crosses some man-made line, referred to as an international border. You have to stand in one or two more lines, one to prove who you are and where you live, and another to prove you aren't smuggling in any prohibited material. Generally the second is perfunctory; you just walk on by. Again, the people who staff these barriers are generally friendly, or at least courteous. But the system is a great nuisance. If you live in the United States, aren't you glad each state isn't a separate country?
After our trip to Japan last year I said I never wanted to fly again. The U.S-Japan leg was bad enough, but we made it a three-day, three leg trip each way. We were accompanying my 92-year-old mother-in-law who lived outside Toronto. Our trip was Minneapolis-Toronto, Toronto-Chicago, Chicago-Tokyo and the reverse. If I couldn't drive to a place, I wouldn't travel again.
So, for Christmas, our daughter and son-in-law gave us a trip to Heavenly Valley. How could we say no? It was only a three-hour plane trip to Las Vegas and an eight-hour drive to Lake Tahoe, but still that three hours felt like eight. I renewed my vow to never fly again. And I so want to visit Europe, Iceland, and Japan again, but...
