Travel I

Air travel was once a thing of near-pleasure—quick and convenient. No longer. These days, it’s the most incommodious way to get about. The seats are shrinking, legroom is nonexistent, and I feel like I’m crammed into a flying sardine can. Just getting comfortable is a struggle, let alone trying to work or relax. And it’s not just the flight itself; it’s the whole ordeal. A recent 3-hour flight to visit family became a long 9-hour day. We navigated crowded airports and endured endless security lines. There was a lot of waiting, waiting, and more waiting. By the time I finally arrived, I was exhausted, stressed, and my back ached from the rock-hard seats.

I remember a time when flight attendants didn’t spend ten minutes miming how to fasten a seatbelt. The most important part of the safety demonstration was pointing out the barf bag – a reassuring presence in case of turbulence. Nowadays, they barely mention it, as if air sickness is a relic of the past. The disappearance of the barf bag from the safety demonstration is a reflection of our the airline industries image-conscious times. We’re supposed to believe that air travel is all glamour and efficiency, not the cramped, germ-filled, and potentially nausea-inducing experience it usually is.

Give the passengers a circus. The flight attendant, our ringmaster for this high-altitude spectacle, announces the availability of Wi-Fi with a flourish.The passengers, are the clowns in this performance, fumbling with our phones, desperately trying to connect to the elusive network. And since you likely have half a dozen numbers associated with your airline – your confirmation number, your frequent flyer number, your seat number, the number of times you’ve questioned your sanity while booking this flight – you’re never quite sure which one to enter.

No matter. Whatever number you punch in, with trembling fingers and a growing sense of dread, will be the wrong number. The app will flash red, denying your access to the digital world. You’ll try again, a different number this time, only to be met with the same mocking rejection. The audience, your fellow passengers, will watch with a mixture of amusement and pity as you cycle through your repertoire of numbers, each attempt a desperate gamble in this high-stakes game of connectivity.”

Peace and tranquility was once a virtue of 30,000 feet. No longer. Even if you have managed to break into the Internet magic, you might be watching a movie or listening to Beethoven’s Fifth. At regular intervals, an announcement will break into whatever you thought you were enjoying. More often than not it is some voice saying that it hopes that you are enjoying your flight. Two minutes later the voice will stop everything to tell you the current temperature of your destination city. Two minutes later the captain will break in. They will tell you your cruising altitude and the likelihood of arriving three minutes early or four minutes late. At this moment, they cannot say what baggage carousel you should look for when you land. Worry not, as soon as they know, they will let you know. Now, settle back and enjoy.

I could go on. But you do not want me to and frankly I do not want to. The flight is miserable. It will remain miserable. Your baggage will be at some other carousel. It is not the one where you were given erroneous information during the flight.