In a burst of industrious ant-ism, I, normally a lazy grasshopper, made my Thanksgiving travel plans at the end of August.
I found a cheap, direct flight from Pittsburgh to Denver on Frontier Airlines. For once, driving to a big-city airport seemed worth the time, the fuel costs and the parking fees. I grabbed the tickets before they could get away.
I had never flown with Frontier. So when I went online a couple of days before my trip to reserve my seats, I was surprised to learn that seats cost extra.
Funny, I said to myself, I thought a seat on a plane was the very thing that I had purchased. To charge for a cushion and a backrest suggested the possibility that a traveler on a budget could hurtle across the continent without such comforts, the way a steerage passenger could cross the mighty ocean without a bunk, or a theatre-goer could watch the show from the SRO section.
This didn’t sound bad to me. I’ve long thought airplanes would be more comfortable if they jettisoned the seats and distributed beanbags. In fact, though, the choice was not between sitting in a seat and strap-hanging, as I used to do on the New York City subway, or sitting on the floor, as I used to do when I built block towers and staged toy car crashes with my children.
No, the choice was between seats that cost what you’d pay for a folding chair at a big box store, and seats that cost what you’d pay for a leather armchair or a recliner at a high-end furniture store. I went low-end.
But wait, there was more.
Like many travelers, I have perfected the art of stuffing what I need for a trip of any duration into a roller bag small enough to fit in an overhead bin. Back in the golden age of air travel, such as it was, the thinking was that keeping your bag with you reduced the chances of it being sent to Pago Pago when you were bound for Walla Walla. It also eliminated baggage claim area waiting time when what you wanted above all things after a long day of flying was to escape from the terminal and begin your fun-filled visit to wherever you had landed.
Then, when the airlines began charging their valued customers for the privilege of sending their bags to Pago Pago, carrying on also had frugality on its side. An unfortunate collateral effect of all this bin stuffing and under-the-seat cramming, however, was that getting everyone on and off the plane with all their chattels began to take almost as long as the flight itself.
To this problem, our friends at Frontier and other “no-frills” carriers have devised a brilliant solution: Charge for carry-on luggage as well!
I would explain Frontier’s fee schedule for checked and carry-on items but it would be far simpler to explain why the good people of Wyoming have four times as much electoral clout as my friends and former neighbors in California. (I choose this example lest you think today’s column topic means that I have “gotten over” the election of the alt-right’s choice as the 45th president of the United States.)
As with paying for seats, charging for baggage makes it seem as if bringing a change of socks and underwear were an “extra” rather than a necessity for those planning to spend a night or two or 10 away from home.
Still, I actually have no objection to these fees. If it’ll shave precious minutes from the boarding and “deplaning” process, I’m all for stowing everything other than personal electronics, disposable diapers and, for the antiquarian traveler, books and newspapers, in the belly of the beast rather than overhead and underfoot.
And I think it’s reasonable to charge more for window and forward seats than for middle and aft seats.
I just want the airlines not to behave like they’re trying to sneak something past me. If they really hope, as they all claim, that next time my travel plans include flying, that I’ll consider flying with them, they’ll help me calculate the actual cost of the trip before, rather than after, I click on the button that will move dollars from my bank account to theirs.
I realize, during this season of American disunity, that by devoting my precious weekly allotment of words to complaints about air travel, I risk sounding like one of those spoiled “elites” who are woefully out of touch with the travails of my less fortunate compatriots.
So let me end on a note of thanksgiving: Without air travel I would not be spending this holiday with my far-flung family. For that, the petty discomforts and indignities of flying are a small price to pay.
