Tag Archives: flying

When applause means more than, “You didn’t kill us!”

20 Sep

It was kind of like this. But in a bigger plane.

I flew to LA yesterday for work, and I’m about to say something that (I’m sure) will jinx me: I. Had. The. Best. Flight. Ever.

Seriously? I hate flying. Really hate it. I’m pretty sure I’d feel that way just on the basis of how often I do it, but it doesn’t help that in a past walk of life, I was spoiled with First Class tickets and lear jets. Once you’ve seen what’s on the other side of the curtain, it’s kind of hard to go back. Especially when going back means being wedged between a screaming baby and an Arm Rest Hog.

When I fly coach, I’m usually just looking for a safe flight. As a control freak, I spend a fair amount of time concerned that the pilot is either tired or drunk, and that the mechanic was either rushed or frustrated with his employer when he gave our ride the once-over. Every bump of turbulence sends me speculating about how we’ll meet our fiery death. (Will I pass out from a lack of oxygen, or still be conscious when each organ bursts?)

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This one’s all over the place because I wrote it during turbulence.

16 Aug

[This was written on my way to Australia, but I’m just getting around to posting it. More on Australia itself soon.]

I’m not a fan of flying. I’m always about 50% convinced I’ll end up on the wrong side of the statistics. I know, I know. You’re going to tell me that flying is safer than driving a car, and that the odds of being in a plane that crashes are almost as great as winning the MegaBucks Lottery.

Thanks, Mr. Statistician. I’d like to tell you a few reasons I’m convinced the normal laws of probability don’t apply to me.

First: I got hit by a car earlier this year. (You’re probably tired of hearing about it, but you try hitting someone’s windshield and flying off their roof and tell me if you don’t feel compelled to work it into conversation occasionally.)

I’d wager that the odds of getting hit by a car are pretty slim. And surviving it with only a concussion and bruising? Even slimmer. Which is to say: I don’t mistake probabilities for assurance.

And then there’s the time when I was in sixth grade and our family vacationed at Jeckyll Island, Georgia. My dad and I were out in the waves, swimming, and I kept grabbing onto him because I wouldn’t let my feet touch the bottom. A clingy kid isn’t a ton of fun, so it’s no surprise that he started to give me a somewhat stern lecture.

“Babe, you really need to stop grabbing onto me. Just put your feet on the bottom. It’s sandy. There’s nothing here that – ARRRGH!”

His lecture was cut short as he hollered, scowled and began jumping up and down. When he finally lifted his foot above the water line, there was a large crab claw pinching his heel. The body was gone (apparently it had been shaken off) but the claw hung there, precisely summarizing why I wouldn’t touch bottom.

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I want to keep flying those friendly skies.

6 Apr

I know, I often bitch and moan about the little things on this blog. Not today. I am here to marvel for a moment in the fact that sometimes, people do not suck.

I flew home from Chicago last night and I have to say: from the moment I set foot in O’Hare, I did not encounter one sucky person. In face, everyone was actually pretty awesome.

First: security. It was a breeze. When I went through the “poofer” machine, the TSA person actually complimented me. “That’s the most perfect posture I’ve seen!” she exclaimed. “You could model this machine!” I took a bow upon exiting.

As I put my shoes back on, a young TSA guy approached with my bag. “Is this yours?” he asked. I confirmed and he said he needed to swab it. He opened it up, pulled out my white noise machine and swabbed it.

“Every time I fly they want to see this. Do you know what it is?” I asked him. He didn’t, so I explained it. He was cracking up by the time I was done telling him about the whishing sound of static it creates. Given his laughter, you would think it was a joke machine. I felt a wee bit proud of my device and it’s apparently jovial properties.

Then on to the gate. I was there early enough that I could hop a flight that left 60 minutes earlier – for $50. I chatted with the gate agent. “My opinion?” she looked at me. “Go spend the $50 on a nice dinner and some wine and you won’t care that you’re getting in an hour later.” Nice. I like the way she thought, so I took her advice.

Then when it was time to board my flight, I was surprised by the number of foreign passengers boarding. They all had Air Iberia boarding passes and were speaking rolling Spanish. Despite the fact that they had clearly just gotten off an airplane, they acted as if they weren’t quite sure how the process worked. But instead of being annoying, it was endearing.

Case in point: the guy boarding before me seemed rather superstitious. As we stepped from the bridge into the plane, he paused, rubbed the outside of the plane, knocked it three times, then kissed it. Yes, please! I like flying with people who are that eager to bestow good karma on the plane. (Especially since it was a 737 and I was imagining a huge gaping hole in its roof, a la Southwest’s flight this weekend.)

I think this poor guy had jetlag, so I took his picture, which might mean that I suck:

Once seated, I ended up next to a retired couple from Portland who were traveling to DC for the first time. They were excited and had only a loose agenda for everything they would like to accomplish, so we spent the majority of the flight engaged in a “tourist Q&A” of the city. When we got of the plane I walked them down to baggage claim and made sure they knew where the rental cars were. I’m pretty sure they wanted to hug me.

Finally, my cab driver was an older Muslim man who was very friendly. As we hit the first light in DC (after crossing the 14th street bridge), a homeless man was standing on the median. My driver pulled over, carefully picked through his ashtray and handed him some quarters. I wanted to hug him.

So there. I don’t constantly complain, and people don’t constantly suck. Happy hump day!

Not so funny, but true: A watched pot doesn’t boil – my blood does.

27 Jan

This is what comes up when you google "Snowy Thundercat." In case you were curious.

The East Coast got pummeled with ThunderSnow yesterday. Upon hearing the forecast, my head immediately jumped to ThunderCats, so I was like, “COOL. BRING IT!”

And then I realized it was a snowstorm with lightning, and my revised thought was, “Um. I hope this doesn’t mess up my flight!”

Alas, it did. My 4:30pm flight to Detroit was cancelled at noon yesterday. At the time of the cancellation, the ground was completely dry and there was nary flake in the sky, so I thought USAirways was annoyingly cautious. I called to book another flight, and they attempted to put me on a 6pm flight to Philly that would connect to Detroit with a midnight arrival.

Um, thanks, but if you can’t get ONE plane off the ground when it’s not even snowing, I don’t have much confidence that you’ll be able to swing a two-leg flight that leaves later AND routes through a city that is forecast to receive even more snow than DC. So I asked what else they had that was direct, and got booked for 8:35 am today.

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Stream of Consciousness: I might be reading into things.

24 Jun

When I stepped onto my most recent flight, the door to the cockpit was still open. I couldn’t see the pilots, but I could see their hats, hanging on two pegs just inside the cockpit door.

One of the hats had photos of his three children taped inside it. I’m sure most people would look at that and think, “Aw, how sweet.”

I, on the other hand? Well, I looked at it and thought:

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