When I was a child....a VERY young child, air travel was the most glamorous thing ever! Flight attendants were not invented yet. They were stewardesses. A stewardess was a friendly, beautiful, kind, hostess of the sky. Remember those commercials "I am (insert name) come fly me." "Wow", I thought as a child, you would need to be some sort of beauty pageant winner/model/movie star to be a stewardess (not fully comprehending the connotations of "come fly me"). Such a statement used in 2012 would totally offend me and be discussed with outrage at many of my women's Bible study groups.
As my mother also reminded me, we used to get dressed up to go on a plane. You would be adorned in a dress with matching purse and shoes. Anything less would be embarrassing. After all you were an air traveler. You could afford to fly the friendly skies. You had to make a good impression on all the other air travelers. In addition as a child, I was able to go "meet the pilot". One Christmas heading to Pittsburgh in the early 70's I was invited to the cockpit and shown all of the amazing pilot stuff by the most handsome, smart, brave pilot ever. Pilots were required to be handsome, brave, and smart.....oh and men. To top that off, every child was entitled to his or her very own set of plastic pilot wings - just like the pilots! I am now wondering if girls got stewardess wings and boys got pilot wings.
Not only did you get a trip to meet the pilot and official plastic pilot wings, you got a bag! Yes a real bag! Have you ever seen those pictures of the Beatles first arriving in the US? I believe it was George or John who was carrying a Pan Am bag! The Beatles! Not only that, you got a full meal - I think it was even good.
Over the past weekend, my husband and I traveled to Pinehurst, North Carolina for the funeral of my dear great uncle Buzz. I was naive enough to think getting there would be a breeze and even somewhat of a get-away. We have Air Tran points (Air TranS as it is pronounced in Atlanta), so we were able to fly first class. First class on Air Tran is actually a synonym for lame business class. Childhood impressions and expectations are hard to delete from your mind, but I think this experience eliminated any delusions of enjoyable air travel.
Getting through security alone is exhausting and degrading. After be shuffled through the roped off lines with the other cattle, and presenting my boarding pass and i.d., the TSA employee checked my driver's license with a flashlight, looked at me suspiciously, looked back at the i.d., turned the flashlight on again, looked at me again. For heaven's sake man, I am a petite, pale, wimpy looking middle aged woman, do I really look like I am going to blow up a plane???? Next I was directed to place my belongings in a bin. I never know what is supposed to be put in the bin or not. To confuse things even more, they have bins and little mini white tray/bowl things. What goes in the bowl, what goes in the bin, what to we keep on, what do we remove? By this time I am so confused. Shoes and belts are flying off left and right. I am directed to the X-ray machine. I am so not excited. During the process I am thinking, is this one of those naked machines? Are they going to see me naked? If they do see me naked will a female TSA person come?
I get waved to come forward. I nervously enter the machine wondering if they are going to see me naked. Well it seems that during this whole naked dilemma going on in my mind, I forgot to take off my shoes. The TSA dude was not amused. "Take off your shoes and go to the back of the line!" By this time my purse is going through the machine out of my sight and I am convinced my purse will be stolen - I watch 20/20 you know. So with my head down I put my shoes in a bin (were they supposed to go in the bin or the bowl - I don't know), and head to the back of the line. After waiting my turn and nervously thinking my purse is being stolen and I will be the next identity theft victim, I make it through the machine. By this time I don't even care who sees me naked.
I walk out to the other side. I quickly start looking for my purse. "Mam, is this your suitcase", says another TSA guy holding my suitcase. "Come over here. Put your hands on the table where I can see them". Once again, I am a petite 5'4" middle aged woman, does he think I am going to punch him out?? He then searches through my underwear and cosmetics. "Ah ha, Your toothpaste is too big". He pulls out my brand new Crest complete toothpaste with scope (the kind that costs $4.00!). "Toothpaste can only be 3.4 ounces. You have to buy the travel size. I will need to throw this away". Great. Somehow I had missed the fact that toothpaste was illegal. I knew the liquids rule, but I do not think of toothpaste as liquid. Who knew?
After being examined, searched, scolded and humiliated we head to our gate. "Due to a thunderstorm in Atlanta the flight has been delayed. Don't worry though, all the planes in Atlanta are grounded and you will make your connections".
Oh the prestige of Air Tran first class in 2012! We were assigned "zone 1" and allowed to load the plane seconds before the other common place coach passengers. We were also aloud to lug our carry on luggage over our heads into the storage compartments located above our heads. Despite those valuable extra seconds, our storage compartments were full when we got there??? Did the flight attendants put their stuff there? Who knows. Nonetheless, my husband Erik had to stow our items 5 rows behind us. You can image how that confuses things when you try to get off the plan when you arrive at your destination.
We are offered drinks. Yipee! Finally the respect and luxury one would expect from traveling first class. Even though I have a bottled water and hot tea from Starbucks I enthusiastically accept an orange juice. Before I am able to take more than 2 sips, our flight attendant with a very heavy accent whom I could not understand, starts pointing at my drink. I was so confused. I had three drinks. She just gave me this drink. I asked her to clarify. She seems very offended by my questions. Now her incomprehensible speech becomes simply louder. I hand over my orange juice and she throws it away. She seems happy with that and walks away. Really? Where is my Miss America, kind hostess of the sky??? I am in First Class - my shoes match my purse!
Being that it is a loud airport, my husband had gone deaf. He has crowd deafness. It makes date night at loud restaurants a lot of fun by the way. So it is up to me to find a better option. I get them to change our flight so we arrive in Charlotte, NC around 7 pm. This however means we lost our rental car and it will cost an extra $200 to pick a car up at Charlotte and return it in Raleigh. After trying to go online using my deaf husband's computer, we find no good rental car options.
I am at the end of my rope. In the Atlanta airport, in tears, I call my Mom. Luckily she and my wonderful step father are on their way down from Virginia. They agree to come pick us up when we arrive in Charlotte and drive us to Pinehurst. I am blessed. Sometimes you just need your Mommy.
For those of you as old, or older than me who got to experience air travel in the 60's and 70's - cherish those memories.........and if you need to travel, take a train, or car, or subway, or even a bus........just don't go to the airport!
