SCE to PHL: Reflections on Air Travel

On a recent trip, I had a flight out of State College, connecting in Philadelphia with the eventual destination of Jacksonville, Fla. I was traveling for business, so I was flying solo: no kids, no husband and, this time, no co-workers. As I sat in the various airports and with the inevitable delay in Philadelphia, I had some time to reflect on air travel.   

I love airports. The airport is a place to watch people, get excited about taking a trip or to experience the excitement of getting back home.

I like to get to the airport with extra time. Airports are full of people rushing – some even running. Making those connections, especially in airports like Philadelphia where you might have to take a shuttle to get to your gate, can make or break the trip.

I saw people traveling in shorts, sneakers, pajamas and an assortment of T-shirts with things written on them.  I don’t believe that it’s necessary to wear formal clothing or even a business suit when I travel, but I don’t get the casual clothing thing. Even if you are going on or coming home from a vacation destination like Florida, I don’t think that clothing appropriate for the beach or working in the yard makes for good travel wear. My theory is that sweats, sneakers or yoga pants are definitely not going to get me bumped to first class, where I could maybe meet a celebrity. 

An additional plus? If they lose my luggage, I am dressed for work the next day because I left my “Co-ed Naked Volleyball” in my suitcase. 

I had quite a few laughs watching people of all ages, shapes and sizes try to maneuver around the airport and through the aisle of the plane and into their seats with the “carry-on.” The airlines forced the carry-on when they started charging fees for checking luggage. 

I usually hand over my bag and the $25, and then all I have to worry about is my purse. I watched people drag those carry-ons into the plane and then strain as they try to jam them in the overhead compartments. An older woman on the plane to Florida nearly herniated herself by trying to lift what seemed to be a bag filled with bowling balls into the space over my head. I stood up to help – even though I didn’t bring a carry-on – because I figured it was better to lend a hand than get hit by her bag. 

My math skills tell me that I wasted some money: This time my checked bag weighed in over the 50-pound limit, and I was charged an additional $50. A second bag would have only been $35. 

Airline security is fairly easy to manage if you just remember that it’s a part of the process. I laugh when I go through security because there’s always one person who gives the TSA employee a “huh?” when directed to take his or her shoes off. The lines go quickly if people remember what they are supposed to do. I watched one woman, leaving out of State College, who had a carry-on, a laptop case, a purse and a bag of pretzels as she went through security in front of me. I stood there while she untied her laced shoes and then put the laptop case in the gray TSA container, only to be told to take the laptop out of the case. She looked at the TSA worker quizzically when told to take her cell phone out of her purse and to remove her coat. Not only was she going to need a chiropractor when she got to where she was going, but the dirty looks from the people in line indicated that she would likely be on her own when doing the carry-on power lifting.

I find it interesting that bars are open in airports at 9 a.m.—and that they have customers. While I have been known to use prescribed drugs to get through my anxiety of flying, apparently others use “liquid courage” or use the airport lounge to start or extend their vacation.

The flight attendants and pilots are a source of comfort for me, especially those who are off duty and who are just riding on the flight to get to another work destination. I remind myself that this is their everyday job and they aren’t nervous being 35,000 feet off the ground. If they can do it, so can I.

Most people in airports are either holding their cell phones or are talking into them. I like the deal where you can buy a book in one airport and, with receipt, return it in another airport within 30 days. On almost every flight, there is the “Kenny Tarmac” from the Bob and Tom radio show – the guy who pulls out his phone as soon as the plane hits the runway and starts talking really loud and in airport lingo to show the rest of us how cool he is. 

“Just landed at SCE.”

One woman on my last flight used the time to decide which ringtone she wanted to set on her phone. She played each of the 40 or so ringtones available—some more than once —while those around her were reading, sleeping, or chatting. She was oblivious to the glares from her fellow passengers.

I don’t know if I would be comfortable sending children on a flight as “unaccompanied.” Some day, I’m going to volunteer to be the one to give up my seat for that future airline credit that they advertise. I’m always happy when the “super-sized” traveler isn’t assigned to the seat next to me.

I’m not a good flyer, but I really don’t mind airports. There are people speaking in different languages, an assortment of junk-food restaurants, and, in Jacksonville, a pianist giving a performance in the lobby (next to one of the three Starbucks stores in just that airport alone). In some airports, travelers can buy duty-free gifts, get a shoe-shine or have a manicure. Airports are full of joyful reunions and tearful goodbyes. I hate flying, but not because of airports. 

In most airports, you can even buy a T-shirt with something written on it. “My mom went on a trip and all I got was this lousy airport T-shirt.”