My Travel Preference

I apologize for the extended hiatus. The past month has found me conducting a seminar series in Colorado, married off our youngest son, and moved him and his bride to Florida. I hope now to be back on my regular schedule.

There is an advertising slogan for an airline that states, We like to fly and it shows.” However if I had a travel slogan, my bumper sticker would say, “I hate to fly and it shows”

Don’t get me wrong, everyone loves getting to their destination super fast. Does three irritating kids in the back seat whining “Are we there yet ring a bell?

However now that our home is barren of those occassional irritating rug rats, I choose all my travel based on my ability to have an aura of tranquility. You see, airline travel is the closest thing to being a refugee. A mass of humanity hurrying up to go everywhere except the place you want to go. The words from the statue of liberty ring true in the security line’ Bring your huddled masses.” It’s kind of like being in a Disney theme park line except no one is in a good mood and there is nothing to look forward to at the end. Unless you count partially disrobing, placing all your valuables in tupperware bins, and walking barefoot in places angels would fear to tread.

Murphy’s Law dictates that my gate, no matter the airline I fly, will be at the furthest point away from the airport entrance. On last week’s flight, I logged more miles than a Boston Marathon runner. And who says spending four hours squishing an ample backside in a Fisher Price size seat isn’t just plain fun? If you’re thirsty, don’t try to fly. On long trips as a child I remember my mother when I was thirsty I’d ask her for a drink and she’d jokingly say, “Swallow.” That pretty much sums up most airlines. The cups they serve offer slightly more beverage than a communion glass. Don’t you find three swallows of water to be most quenching after running the equivalent of the Pamplona running of the bulls?

The flying experience isn’t fully realized until you take on the persona of an old west American indian. I say this because the seats are so narrow, you spend the whole trip crossing your arms like you’re waiting for the peace pipe to be passed to you next. We already know our thighs are bonding with the person next to us, but I draw the line with the upper body.

Additionally we need a reeducation on what constitutes carry on luggage and what doesn’t? To skip baggage claim, people selfishly bring dog cages, guitars, and luggage bags the size of truck tires. God forbid we had a hard landing, those compartments would fly open and jettison it’s contents like a girdle on a Sasquatch.

Next time I travel, I’m driving. Sure it may take longer, but at least I’ll have peace. I also won’t have to imagine how my miniscule seat can be transformed into a flotation device.

About enthusiasmiscontagious

I am an individual who analyzes all facets of life in the hopes of squeezing out some of the humorous parts.
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