Flying the friendly skies
Molly Strzelecki
Growing Up To Be a Kid
This past break, in between lounging on my couch watching numerous reruns of now-cancelled T.V. shows and working at a thankless job which I very much dislike, I had the enthralling experience of going out to Tempe, Ariz. to watch the Irish play a little football. In addition I was able to take in the entire experience of what a bowl game entails.
Football aside (we're not even going to touch on the embarrassing defeat except to say that it got very cold in the stands during the third quarter with no one in front of me to block the wind), there is so much more to an experience like Tempe. For one, there is simply the adventure of getting to and from the destination.
Upon leaving the windy and very cold, negatively temperatured, city of Chicago, I was all prepared to be little miss snotty pants with the airline people in order to get out on time if my flight was delayed. It was, indeed, delayed, but instead of using vicious words, I changed tactics and was actually extremely nice to the woman behind the counter. And what happened? Lovely woman that she was, she put me on direct flight from Chicago to Phoenix that got me in earlier than I was expected. Oh, happy day!
Once I was on the plane and we took off, got out of the snow (scariest take-off I have ever in my life come across) and I un-gripped my hands from the arm rests and my knuckles regained some color, I had nothing to do besides relax, if possible and observe what was happening around me.
Airplane passengers are probably some of the most interesting confined groups of people you can come across because each person varies in levels of flying expertise, if you will. And airline passengers in the economy class are even more the spectacle.
There is a wide spectrum that shines on airplane rides. First of all, there is someone like me, for example, who thinks that at any moment, with each rock and roll of turbulence, that the plane is going to crash and who is constantly trying not to hyperventilate and simply answer the flight attendant that yes, I would like something to drink. Then there are those people who look absolutely relaxed and serene as the plane is bumped up and down, with no net underneath it and who simply go about reading the in-flight magazine like they are sitting in a Jacuzzi, while sipping on their water. Frankly, the latter group of people annoys me. You cannot tell me that they are completely oblivious to the chaos that is going on outside the plane, forcing it to teeter to and fro. I think this bunch is just really good at acting and hiding their true emotions, which means that inside they are screaming their brains out and bargaining with God that if a plane has to go down, just please, please, please do not let it be theirs.
There does not seem to be any middle ground with airplane passengers. You either handle the turbulence or you run up and down the aisles screaming mass hysteria. You either keep your food in your stomach where no one can see it or you use the barf bag to its maximum capacity. You either absolutely detest the aforementioned food or you scarf it down like five star cuisine. (If there is anybody out there who feels this way about airline food, I'm quite curious to know what exactly the pull is of luke warm cheese tortellini with metallic tasting sauce accompanied by a lifeless salad with one cucumber slice and half a cherry tomato).
Surprisingly, it is my experience on flights that people traveling with friends and family tend to be those people most likely to strike up conversations with strangers. Such was the case on my flight to Phoenix. I sat next to a very nice woman and her daughter, who both talked to me every minute that I was awake and, frankly, thought I was the most interesting person ever. (Not that this is untrue, but I do like to reserve a tad bit of modesty. Just a tad.)
On the flight home, however, I sat next to a "solitary" passenger, like myself, who, after the initial hello, said nothing to me and as it was a ridiculously early flight, I had no desire to talk to him, either. The uncomfortable silence that endured the entire flight made me wonder why passengers traveling alone don't talk to each other, when it seems it would be the natural thing. Here is the theory I came up with:
People traveling with friends and family do not want to talk to each other because they have just spent a week or two of quality family time together, there is nothing left to say and they're probably still peeved over the comment that Uncle Ralph made about their hair. People flying alone ... well, they're just afraid that if they get into an in-depth conversation with their seatmate, he or she will turn out to be some sort of psychopath and they will both end up on some sort of freaky Dateline NBC scandal.
So, dear readers, I think there is only one thing left to save me from this madness called flying: fly first class. They're normal up there and they give you hot towels to boot.
Molly Strzelecki is a senior writing major at Saint Mary's College. She can be e-mailed at strz7359@saintmarys.edu. Her column appears every other Tuesday.
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
All Viewpoint Stories for Tuesday, January 23, 2001
