Take to the Skies - Part 2

 by the Wanz

(Ah-haha, so I’m transcribing this from my notebook in a café since I actually wrote this second entry on my plane ride home a little less than a week ago. Scribbled to the left of the title is a reminder note from myself that I was “seated beside the worlds’ two smallest adult bladders!” But I digress, back to the actual entry…)

The preparations one endures to get to a flight on time are tale enough. Once you’ve gotten to the gate (and if the plane is still there) then you’ve reached a major checkpoint in the game we call “flying.” Now, the second half is pretty much just endurance of people, your environment, and of course, airplane food (the deadliest digestional game). It’s time for Part Two – In-Flight Entertainment:

Before delving into boarding, we’re going to take a step back and touch on the deadly abyss known as flight delays (i.e.: the übersuck of flying). These delays intensify the whole waiting process and potentially screw over flyers who need to catch connection flights. They are, again, the übersuck, since they occur for countless and sometimes unexplainable reasons (late flights, mysterious mechanical issues, weather, black holes, etc.) and you never really know how long it’ll take or how it will impact your trip (the horror!!)  and it’ll inevitably bring out the crazy in the already stressed out flyers-to-be.

Anywho, onto boarding – the final line! (Well, until the de-boarding process anyway.) It’s kinda an epic moment…. That and an epic clusterfuck! Depending on the airlines, boarding lines occur differently (some with boarding groups, some have lines, it’s kinda whatever) but the same always occurs; the amoeba-effect. Everyone gets up from their seats and clumps together so that when they are allowed to board, they can be the first in line—even if they are in the last group (no one wants to be the last person in the last group to board the plane, right?)—cause you want to be first in line to get your seat on the plane and… what? Sit for 2-12 hrs? in the same place? with minimal moving?! It’s the epic, linear conclusion before the in-flight entertainment kicks-in. And the people who sneak ahead of their group, well dressed, uptight, and with a faux-sense of entitlement—to the back of the line they go!!

After getting to your seat (and upon seeing if there’s overhead bin space) you get to know those seated beside and around you. This is more random than the freshman year roommate lottery. Everyone (except for those few) flies and there’s no way to foresee who you’re trapped besides. Sometimes you have a talker beside you (probably scared of flying so they turn to talking to distract themselves). Sometimes you have the hardworker, who brought their whole office onboard with them. Sometimes you’re by the parents of a Fly’nCry (a crying newborn baby who, maybe, shouldn’t be flying yet). Then there’s the creeper married dude chatting it up with the flight attendants or a lady (not wife) seated next to him. Occasionally you may even be seated beside a nun, and feel overly awkward for those unreligious types. Then there are the over-frequent urinators (spoiler alert: they’re always in the middle or window seat). It’s a random casting of character. There’s a chance you may make a friend, have a civil conversation, maybe join the mile high club, y’know, whatever, no big deal. Good things can happen. Then there are flights akin to torture-by-air. And there are always the uneventful flights—those, in m opinion, are the best. J

And then, there’re the flight attendants. I have a good friend who became a flight attendant and I do work in costumer service and know a large chunk of the service industry in Tacoma, so I have some sympathy toward those who work flights. I usually don’t find myself over-chatty with them (as there are a lot of customers to tend to), but I appreciate them all the same. BUT I have had some who ignore me due to age or race or socio-economic-seating—which, even if you have your bad days, we still call that discrimination by the way—and in this instance, I will briefly illustrate my personal favorite and most hated encounters:

Coolest Flight Attendant – My friends and I were returning to Tacoma after a delightful gay old time in San Francisco (gay pride weekend). We were pretty pooped and wanted to drink and then intensely sleeeeeep. Before we even left the terminal, we heard the cries of a crying baby unleashed. This must have been a future opera singer or some shit because this baby was on the loudest and longest cry-a-thon I’d ever heard. My friend hates kids, so naturally the crying baby agitated her, but the parent with the kid was barely doing anything. We’d exchanged glances with each other, with other passengers nearby, and all we had the same WHATTHEFUCK look. Then came on my favorite flight attendant, who walked by the wailing baby and cringed as though her ears had been physically assaulted. It happened a few times, each time my friend and I chuckled. She even gave the parent some advice as to how to handle the crying machine. And when she had to do her safety demo of how to put on your seat belt and such, we erupted in laughter: she stood beside It Who Cried A Lot, attempting to focus on emergency procedures and maintaining her calm, but the tiny thing producing an unreal amount of noise was totally out-performing her, drowning out her demo. So, she just stopped, looked at all of us, blinking, sharing our WTF expression, heavily sighed, and shook her head. But she didn’t say anything, not a word, she just took a deep breath, gave what could only be a pain-filled smile, and kept shaking her head as she finished her demo. Priceless. My friend and I spoke to her later, just thanking her for feeling our shared frustration. She told us this was the end of her day and this was her flight home, so the three of us were in the same, wailing-filled boat.

Douchiest Flight Attendant, EVER – This was years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. I was in the emergency exit row (there was my row and a row behind me). I was 21 at the time and with a fresh fly haircut (used to rock a magnificent afro, so I had turned over a “professional leaf” that year and get it cut) and even trimmed the beard—naturally so fresh and so clean-clean. Even with the clean-up, I probably still looked a little older than 21. As I’m sitting and waiting for the flight attendants to talk to us about our capability and responsibilities in the emergency exit row, I eavesdropped on what this attendant is saying to an elderly woman seated behind us. In the middle of his spiel, he stops and asks her if she can properly hear him. Offended, she says yes, she can and he goes off into the importance of if she doesn’t think she can follow along with the intricacies of his directions, then he’ll have to move her. She reassurances him (still highly offended) that she’s fine. Once he finishes, he comes to us and does his whole “Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth”-thing to us and then I notice him staring at me and he asks if I’m old enough to be seated in the emergency exit row. I kinda blank on how old I’m suppose to be, but I’ve flown in that row before for a few years, so I tell him I’m 21 and he shoots me the snootiest, most skeptical look like he wanted to ID me. After he leaves, I check the instruction book to see the minimum age requirement: 14 years old. That muthafucker. Douchiest. Attendant. EVER.

Ah, turbulence, it’s like the invisible companion on every flight. People handle it differently. Some with the slightest tremble will have flashbacks to LOST, Final Destination, or even Fight Club and envision the plane falling apart and foresee themselves plummeting to the ground. Some take Benadryl (that’s my joint!) with some liquor to avoid consciousness (not doctor recommended). Some cling onto their neighbor with dear life, even if it’s their first time meeting. Many frequent flyers just make sure they’re tightly fastened and hope that the drink on their tray doesn’t tip and short out their laptop or DVD player. The bravest of people are those who fly in SMALL planes because you feel it soooo much more and you have those life-flashing-before-your-eyes kinda moments. Anyone who does that and on a regular basis… well, you’re ballsier than I…

In-flight pastime is kinda similar to the waiting period, but you see the full fledge of resources that people bring. You aren’t equipped with outlets or an endless array of liquor or space. Time is draining and life becomes compact. People who’re previously hooked into their laptop or phone slowly pull out books, or… other electronic devices (ipods, kindles). Some manage to make friends with their neighbors. Some joyfully drug themselves to sleep (ftw!). Some work, some write, some enjoy the highly edited movies or shows on their in-flight entertainment venue. But sometimes you run outta batteries, outta juice, outta liquor, outta pages, outta conversation topics, and you find yourself just, with yourself, waiting. Or napping. But there’s a LOT of waiting… worse than Godot…

And then we reach journey’s end, when electronics go away, tray tables go up and seats must return to their upright position. I find it almost soothing, though many get anxious as we descend and the plane gets rattley and people want to scream “AAHHHH!!!! Fear of impending doom!” because of the dropping sensation. J I mean, the planes does a lot of turning, circling, and noticing that the small toy-like cities are getting bigger, more detailed, noticing ant-sized lights zipping back and forth and the reality that you’re almost there kicks in (unless you are catching a connecting flight). But you start to ponder important queries like “Am I gonna swap digits with the cute person I sat next to?” or “Wonder if my ride’s gonna be on time?” or “Did the airport lose my luggage again for the 3^rd time this year?” or “I wonder if I should’ve packed a jacket?” and then suddenly—VROOOOM!!! The screeching wheels hit the ground, the plane bounces slightly but (hopefully) comes to a soul-chilling stop. You’ve landed! No explosion! Hurray! Cue: reach for your cell phone.

For those with baggage (still physical, not emotional) hitting up the carousel at the end is akin to the closing credit sequence of this, your epic journey in flying. You see people’s luggage, their families, and loved ones, or those just willing enough to pay for parking, and for the most part, everyone is relieved. Is it because of the people their meeting and the places they’re going? Maybe!! OR it’s about the fact that the fuckin’ flight is fiiiiinally over (unless you’re catching a connecting flight, or if you’re baggage is missing, or if your ride forgot you, or--)

I mean, nope! It’s done. You’re done. Journey’s end. Or at least it is for this blogger.

If you have your own tales in in-flight entertainment and flying and douchey flight attendants, share it with us either on our blog or our twitter account at https://twitter.com/LifeInTransitTJ or send us an email at LifeInTransitTJ@gmail.com and we may post your message / picture!!

Take to the Skies – Part 1

by the Wanz

Today we take to the skies by taking a look at the aerial life in transit. Yes, yes, the mighty airplane. J (Don’t have a helicopter… not yet anyways.) This will be exploring the general experience of the whole airplane process, not a specific tale (expect that in December when I retell last year’s hellish holiday commute). Now, I know there are those who have never flown and for those of you have avoided such… well, congrats! You probably have a few extra years on ya because getting to your flight and the actual flight itself are both fucking STRESSFUL!!! It’s not just bing-bang-boom and you get from point A to point B, it’s a muthafucking journey (like with Frodo and the one ring, if he had decided against walking).

And yes, we’re going to go through the whole airplane experience! From waking up to picking up your baggage after you’ve landed. And thus, this is a two-part blog. Part One – The Fright Before the Flight:

It begins at home, even before leave one must start with… packing! It’s kinda like homework—no one likes to do it (or if you do, society deems you strange/unusual), people will procrastinate until the last minute to do it, and when you rush it, you’ll inevitably forget something. (Also getting someone else to do it for you doesn’t always work out.) But it is a necessary process. For some, they over-pack, others under-pack, and some just wing it and others just don’t pack at all. In a way, it’s almost a window into our organizational soul—it shows us what we think we need, what we’re willing to drag along with, or willing to leave. (Or, again, willing to over-pack and have someone else carry it for said person.)

Once you’re all packed, getting to the airport is the next hellish task at hand. Most airports aren’t right next to major cities, so it can be a journey. Some cities, like SF, have great and very direct public transportation from the main areas of the Bay to their airports (SFO & OAK). If only every city had a BART system like the Bay does. Tacoma/Seattle has a bus that’ll take you directly to the airport—BUT getting to that bus is a pain in the ass, almost not worth the transit journey in and of itself. Then there are the shuttles—overpriced + crowded. Additionally you are with others who are crammed in next to you or (if you’re the first picked up) you have to go alllll the way out to their homes and wait for them to drag their luggage and themselves to the shuttle. Essentially, it transforms a not-too-long of a trip into a 2 hr ordeal. OR, there are your friends, maybe one who owes you a favor (or one who you’ll soon be in debt to). Best way to get their assistance: ask for a ride. Second best way: post on facebook that you need a ride. Third: talk to someone who is really empathetic (w/ a car) about how shitty it’ll be to bus, shuttle, walk, or whatever to the airport, until he or she feels so bad that they have to give you a ride. (Yahtzee!)

Upon actually arriving to your airport, thanking whatever mode of transportation you took, you’ll find yourself in the first of many lines. (If Lord of the Rings can be summarized as a movie that involved too much walking, Lord of the Airport would be a movie about being trapped in one too many lines.) Checking in is different for everybody, as there are just numerous factors that play into it. Factors: Airlines (some don’t have ridiculously long lines, so it makes it go faster), Ticket Class (obviously the 1^st class are classier and have shorter lines), Baggage (physical, not emotional), Electronic Check-In Systems (man versus machine), Arrival Times (i.e. if you can just stroll up before your flight to check in or if you have to arrive no later than 45 minutes before your flight or else they boot ya off the plane), and of course the speed/friendliness of the person working the front counter (paranethical comments not included).Every factor matters and expedites (or halts) this process. It’s either a five-minute dealio or a half hour line from hell. Who knows. J

Next line: Security Check Point!! These vary too, usually depending more on the timing of it (i.e.: when during the day, day of the week, and season you’re traveling). But the zig-zag-iness of these things are worse than lines at a waterslide park during a hot California summer day (and way less enjoyable). You’ll see people downing drinks that they can’t bring aboard and shuffle through their bags debating with themselves about if their gigantic toenail clippers will make it through security. Once their IDs and Boarding Passes are verified, the next challenge awaits: the x-ray and metal detector/full body scans. These moments are always a little funny. People fall into 1 of 2 categories – eager & prepped to get through the checkpoint or overly embracing their ability to dilly-dally. People can’t help but be pros on one or the other. For the first time or infrequent flyers, I get it, you don’t know what you’re doing. But once you’ve flown once and if it hasn’t been like…. 10 years since your last flight or whatever, you should get it the whole shoes, jacket, laptop/electronics, metal junk, liquids, etc. ordeal. It’s kinda like taking a test. And the metal detector is the grading system. This is a pass-fail kinda test too. It’s that moment of truth when you walk through the metal detector that you’re like “Did I fuck up?” just like getting a pop quiz back after only doing some of the reading. But if you pass, metal free, the security guard gives you that nod of “I’m glad you’re not making me do extra work.” (I even got a joke out of one… only once, but it was still proof that they are people and not robots built by TSA.) For those doing the full body scan, it’s more like taking the GRE, but also feeling completely exposed (so taking the GRE while you’re naked)! And if you fail either, slightly humiliation (and the loss of some smuggled materials) will occur before prepping for your next line.

Post-security checkpoint is very open-ended and it really depends on what type of flyer you are (so this section may apply to you or give you insight into others). This part is the infamous waiting stage. (Spoiler alert: Godot is not featured.) Some will be waiting at the airport for hours (due to early drop-offs or flight delays) while others have 0 minutes of waiting and will literally sprint in a mad dash starting at security to their gate while praying that they get onboard. What one chooses to do during their limbo-time usually satisfies their inner boredom-monster. 1. Wifi – some airports have it for free, some force you to download software and pay for it, but everyone looks a little facebook or twitter time or even working or even illegally watching movies on line. Some even blog. J 2. Loved ones phone calls – there’s always that person who is so loud that you hear (not overhear, because it’s that loud) their conversation with their significant other, their parent(s), sibling(s), boss, mistress(es), whoever. 3. Book/magazine – simple joys, simple pleasures. 4. Movies/TV Shows – Hopefully while your laptop or dvd player is plugged in (so you don’t waste all your juice in the airport and not on the plane), shows or movies will ideally help you mindlessly zone out on a screen while time joyously flies by (and not their flight flying by). 5. The drinkers – My favorite pass-time! Where there’s a bar, there’s a drinker, especially in the airport. 6. The napper – that overly considerate person willing enough ot take up three or more seats to satisfy their weary urges. 7. Smokers – self-explanatory. 8. And the watehers (i.e.: me) – because there’s always some random shit that you’ll inevitably see people doing in their life in pre-in-flight transit. J

Look for “Take for the Skies – Part 2: In-Flight Entertainment” coming later this week! If you have your own tales of pre-boarding chaos, share it with us either on our blog or our twitter account at https://twitter.com/LifeInTransitTJ or send us an email at LifeInTransitTJ@gmail.com and we may post your message / picture!!