Whoever said "Getting there is half the fun" needs to be dragged into the street and shot. Commercial air travel started in the 1930s and I have to say things aren't much easier than they were back then. Today's travel, both air and by land, is just no fun. I'm one of the easiest travelers out there too. I'm just me. I don't have any kids. I don't have any special dietary needs. I travel light and I don't care if my entire body is put through a chemical bath to determine if I've somehow packed explosives up my ass. Even for me, traveling in today's world is a pain in the ass. That's two sentences in a row that end with the word ass, which is starting a trend we need to stop right now.
Let's start with the beginning. It used to be you could arrive roughly an hour before your flight was scheduled to take off and be good to go. Now the recommendation is to arrive at LEAST an hour before, usually it's safer to be two hours ahead. There is that lovely 45 minute rule where if you haven't checked in 45 minutes before your flight is scheduled to depart, you might not get on board. Let's not worry about the fact that a flight schedule to leave at 10:25 never EVER gets off the ground until 10:50, but more on that later. I usually take the Super Shuttle because in order to avoid the insane air fares I have to fly at weird times. So a flight leaving at 11:37 on an odd numbered Wednesday is not out of the question. I'm not the kind of person who will hit up a friend for a ride to the airport mid-morning on a weekday. I'm a lot of things, but not that guy. So for a flight leaving at 11:37 my shuttle will pick me up at 8:35, allowing them time to pick up the 3-4 other people along the way. I've been flying a long time and I've never once been the last pickup. I've never experienced getting on the shuttle and being taken directly to the airport. No, instead I get to experience the worse tour of whatever city I'm in. If you'll look to your left you'll see Avenue B. And to your right is a Super Wal-Mart.
Arriving at the airport means one of two things will happen as it regards to time. Either you're drastically early in which case you sit at your gate so long that you've learned the first name of your gate agent as well as the names of her four cats or you've got ten minutes to get through the hundred person check-in line, the security chute, and the twenty acre jog to your gate. Thankfully I've never missed a flight, except that one time when there was some confusion over what day midnight meant. So I'd rather be bored than stranded.
It used to be (yes I've gotten old enough that I've started referring to things like that) that your bags, yes plural, would be put on the plane at no extra cost. It was part of the ticket price. Along with drinks and possibly a meal. Now everything costs extra and ticket prices aren't any lower. Want to check a bag? $25. Want some M&Ms? $4. Pretty soon they'll put a credit card swipe on the bathroom door. $2 for Number 1. $4 for Number 2. The part I don't understand is that initially the added cost was attributed to the rising gas prices. Fuel was reaching record high prices so in order to cover the cost airlines needed to make extra money somewhere. Well fuel prices are back down to what they were a few years ago, but I'm still paying for my bag. However, I've seen people take their two bags through security and to the gate where eventually the attendant announces if you have more than one bag they'll check it at the gate with no extra charge. So they're essentially rewarding people tenacious enough to have held onto their bags and refused to pay the extra cash.
There are a few types of people you'll always seem to run into while traveling. Usually you'll see them at security because they're right in front of you. You can get:
The Angry Guy - This guy must have a pine cone wedged in his ass because everything is a personal affront to him. The family in front of him who has the nerve to need a few extra minutes to take a child out of the stroller before putting it in the X-ray machine makes him groan. The old woman who is on oxygen and shuffling along in a walker pisses him off. This is the guy who's so mad at everyone else he doesn't realize that everyone is required to take off their shoes. They don't care if there isn't any metal in them. That's not what they're looking for.
The Jewelry Encrusted Lady - This woman is unaware of how to dress for air travel. I appreciate that people want to look good when they're out in public. If you want to wear as many necklaces as Mr. T while going to the mall, good for you. I'll be sure to mock you in private later. But if you're about to pass through something called a METAL detector then having your entire jewelry collection on isn't the brightest move. The best part is these women also have a tendency to talk about the pieces of jewelry as they're removing them. This was given to me by...yeah don't care lady. See where The Angry Guy gets his start?
The Clueless One - Everyone is standing at the gate ready to board. The attendant hasn't started calling rows yet. There could be a line formed for the eventual race to your seats, if you happen to be flying on an airline that doesn't assign seats. This person comes bumbling from out of nowhere, oblivious to the fifty people standing in a line, or a queue if you're from out of country. They walk straight up to the attendant and try to hand their boarding pass over. "We're only boarding rows 15-23. Please if you're not seated in these rows move aside so that other people who have learned to count can proceed to their seats" Why is there such a rush to get to your seat? Is anyone in a hurry to get into a cramped seat and breath in recycled fart air?
Oh and one more: Men who call their wives mother. It's not so much a class of person, but I really just find that to be creepy.
I know the airlines can be fined by either the city or the FAA for not leaving on time so it's in the airline's best interest to actually depart when they say. The problem is departing means only having to pull away from the gate. It doesn't mean they have to be in the air. I've been in planes that taxi for no less than thirty minutes. They've driven long enough that they could be back at my house and could have picked me up on the way. I could have avoided all the hassle I just mentioned.
When I fly I always try to get an exit row. Not because I'm a hero or anything, but because the exit rows normally have just a little bit more leg room. They could easily remove an entire row of seats and give everyone on the plane an extra two inches and still manage to operate in the negative like they do now. I always find it comforting when sitting in the exit row when the attendant comes by and asks for a verbal confirmation that you're willing to perform the safety duties in the event of an emergency. If by duties you mean I'm willing to open the door and get the hell out of a plane carrying 64,000 gallons of soon to be exploding jet fuel, then yeah I'm willing. Can I get a couple of those little bottles of Jack Daniels while we're negotiating what's all required?
I'm usually a pretty quiet traveler. It's just part of my general disdain for people I don't know. If I don't know you, then chances are I don't want to know you. Still I could be wearing headphones, leaning against the window, and reading my book, but if I make even the slightest bit of eye contact with someone I've suddenly become their new bestest travel buddy. They want to know where I'm traveling to. Do I live there? Who you going to see? I swear a CIA interrogator has fewer questions.
If you've ever flown on little planes or come into Denver from the west you know that landing is the most exciting part of the actual flight. Due to some tricks of air pressure surrounding the Rocky Mountains the plane will inevitably drop about a thousand feet in a matter of seconds. Then it will happen again. After about the second time the co-pilot (whatever happened to the navigator? I always liked him best) will come on and say something in a rather chipper voice "This is Lt Colonel Gantry and we're experiencing a slight bit of turbulence so I'm going to ask you to put on your seat belt in case we run into any more" Thanks for the warning as I'm wearing the rest of my Jack and Coke. My seat belt didn't protect me from a drink in the face. And flying in on a little plane is the worst. Not only can you feel every bump, but I swear those pilots are cowboys. They must be the guys no one trusts to fly the 747, but can't fire because he's the only one willing to fly the puddle jumper back and forth from LA to Vegas. These are the guys you know are in the cockpit having a blast as they drop out of the sky like an anvil, giving everyone the fantastic sensation of zero G for 2.6 seconds.
So you've landed and there's another twenty minute taxi back to the airport. Sometimes I wonder if they've landed in the same zip code as the terminal. No matter where you're sitting there will always be someone who takes twice as long as humanly possible to get up from their seat, get their bag from the overhead bin, retrieve their coat, and start putting one foot in front of the other to get off the plane. I've sat in the first row and still managed to get stuck behind someone who was desperately trying to unwedge their bag. They're shocked that it's stuck even though when they were getting on then spent a good five minutes beating it into place like they were tenderizing a steak.
I've been traveling with the same suitcase since I graduated from high school. It's bag my dad gave me as a graduation present and it's worked for me all this time. Besides being an actual suitcase and not one of those lame half a bag/half a purse things, it's very easy to spot due to the wear and tear it's taken over the years. I've noticed that unless your bag is on fire, it will look like at least five other bags on the carousel. There will always be that person who goes up to your bag (often as you're reaching for it) and checks the tag because they can't quite remember if their bag was navy blue or emerald green. I've actually had it happen once where someone pulled my bag from the carousel and I had to convince them that I was in fact the owner. Want me to open it up and show you my underwear because I'll do it. I have no shame.
No matter what time you exit the terminal, if you're looking for a shuttle, it just left. The next one should be along in about fifteen minutes. I've never walked out of the airport only to find the shuttle just pulling up, as though it were a friend with fantastic timing. If you are lucky enough to have a friend pick you up from the airport, get in quick before airport security starts wondering if you bear a striking resemblance to that Interpol terrorist everyone is talking about. And thank you for flying with us. We hope to see you again.
