What is it about flying that brings out the weirdness in people? I mean, today, thanks to the magic of deregulation coupled with our propensity to choose flights solely on the basis of price, we suffer conditions in steerage (called “economy class”) just a few rats and symbiotic vermin short of the experience the pilgrims had on the Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria while bobbing on the Atlantic puking maggot infested hardtack all the way to the new world.
And what’s really nuts is that we’re in a hurry to get on that silly airplane. People look at their tickets and say to their significant conspirators, “Sweety, we’re in the sixth and last group to board the plane. What say we stand here right in the front of the line two hours before the flight is scheduled to take off? Wouldn’t that be the best of fun? Maybe they’ll let us board early if they don’t notice our boarding number! Wouldn’t that be a treat! And holding up all the other people from boarding by standing here in front of the gate like idiots imitating a statue—why, that would be icing on the fun cake!”
“Yes, oh yes Dear, Deep Venous Thrombosis, here we come!” (that’s Economy Class Syndrome, if you need be reminded of the creamy goodness of deregulated steerage…)
But when you’re ready to get off the plane and really enjoy your destination, an even odder thing happens. People aren’t really ready to get off the damn plane! Why is that? Why do people stand in the aisle talking about the eternity it takes to open the door and then, when passengers in front of them are off the bucket of bolts and sitting uncomfortably on a plastic chair in Starbucks sucking on a paper cup of questionable joe, they then decide to slide their enormous, oversize bag out of the overhead compartment with excruciating slowness as if they were demonstrating a parlor trick to a particularly dense politician?
Why? I wanna know why…
(Could you tell I just got off a plane?)