Air Apparent

            This past weekend I did a whirlwind tour of Tampa, Florida to both help out a friend and visit with family. (Details of the trip, and photos even, may follow in a later post.) Now, I am not exactly what one would call an experienced flier. In fact, prior to Friday, I could count the number of round trip flights I had ever taken on one hand. Now I’m up to two hands. Perhaps someday I’ll even have to take my socks off to count. (Please don’t ask what happens when I get to twenty-one.) Traveling through four different cities/airports with layovers gave me a wonderful opportunity to do a lot of people watching, and holy crap on a cracker there was some GOOD people watchin’ to be had. Here are just a few of my observations:

1.         They don’t call it Hot ‘Lanta for nothing. While in the Atlanta Airport, I don’t think I have ever seen so many attractive people gathered in one place since I stood in the hall of mirrors. (HAHAHAHA…HA… Ha… ha… ahem.) Seriously, the ratio of 10’s to 2’s was astounding. Men, women, even the kids looked like they stepped out of a Ralph Lauren catalog. Granted there are always exceptions… like the one group of people that I would have sworn were on their way to a “People of Walmart” convention. *shudder*

2.         Old people should not fly. Seriously. While waiting for my connector from Atlanta to Tampa, this old couple held up people trying to check in as the man spent ten minutes yelling (more like talking loud – the comic irony of this will be revealed shortly) and complaining to the ticket attendant that “they couldn’t hear anything” on the last flight because they were behind the engine. And Erma (his wife, and yes, that’s her real name) couldn’t look out the window because she had the aisle of the three-seat row. The attendant did his best to explain that “sir, most of these people checked in yesterday on their computers. If you want to guarantee a seat assignment, that’s what you have to do these days.” “What?” The old man asked. The attendant repeated. “What?” The attended repeated again, shouting. Here’s a thought, Geezer McGee – It wasn’t the engines that prevented you from hearing anything, it’s the fact that you’re DEAF, which is probably why you TALK SO LOUDLY. His response to Internet check-in was “I don’t do that hogwash.” Well, my dear octogenarian, either learn, or stop complaining about where you’re sitting. And no, the flight attendant will NOT adjust your “seat donut.”

3.         Northerners are generally rude. Sorry gang, y’all just are. (Like that? Thought I’d throw a little southern folksiness in there for my southern-fried friends.) I have always prided myself on being a traveler that blends. When in Italy several years ago I blended so well that tourists with Italian-English dictionaries came up to me and ask me for directions in poor Italian. I answered them in better Italian. If you can’t blend, at least don’t stand out like a sore thumb. (I never really understood that phrase. My thumb is sore now, but it doesn't stand out. It did the one time I cut myself and all we had were Sponge Bob bandaids, but I digress....) Like the guy with a thick accent from a big, northeastern city that I won’t name (put it this way – he was wearing a blue T-shirt that with a small, Major League Baseball team logo on the front and, on the back, had a picture of Calvin relieving himself on a pair of red socks). He was complaining that there was no room to store his carry on in the overhead bin because the flight was full and not enough people volunteered to check their rolling carry-ons. He finally relented and handed her the bag, complaining that his book was in his bag (frankly I was surprised he could read – I’m guessing it had a lot of pictures). She patted him on the shoulder and said “bless your heart.” I didn’t even bother to contain my chuckle. Unlike Mr. Wizz-ard, I have enough southern friends to know that she had totally just called him an a**hole in “Southern.” Catching me laughing, she gave me a knowing wink and, later, an extra bag of peanuts at snack time. Oh Jessica, we’ll always have Tampa…

4.         A lot of women travel wearing things that a) they shouldn’t be wearing in the first place, and 2) people really don’t need to see them wearing. For example, there was one woman who tried to squeeze the figure of Roseanne Barr in an outfit designed for Kate Moss. It wasn’t pretty. In fact I prayed that she wouldn’t be on my plane because, God forbid, if one of those buttons broke loose the thundering aftermath surely would have taken that bird down. And can someone please explain to me why women wear heels while flying? This one girl had heels on that were so tall she literally couldn’t walk without holding on to her “The Situation” wannabe boyfriend. She actually said, and (Dave Barry help me out) I swear I am not making this up – “I really have to pee, but these heels push my legs up too much and I might fall in.” Please, JWoww-you-re-dumb, do us all a favor. Give it a try. 

5.         And now for the men… Lose. The. Mandals. Please. You know what I’m talking about: man sandals. They do not make you look “chic” or “cool.” Regardless of whether they’re Italian leather or synthetic, expensive or cheap, mandals make you look like your wife took you to a BO-GO sale at Payless, and said “you’re getting these. You’ll look great!” and, out of sheer guilt for the fact that you were making her fly to Pensacola to visit your mother, you put them on and said “yes, dear.” Flip-flops or slides are acceptable, for the following reason and with the following caveat: 1) you have to take your shoes off to go through security. I don’t care how easy it is to un-velcro your mandals. Just, no. 2) If you have ugly feet, at least slip on a pair of Vans or something. No one needs to see your infected big toenail. And to the guy wearing mandals with white socks, pleated salmon-colored shorts, fanny-pack, too-tight white T-shirt, blue blazer and some kind of tropical white fedora – Have fun in Nassau sitting at the bar drinking your cosmos, while your wife is taking “dancing lessons” from a young man named “Fernando,” and you’re wondering why the women at the other end of the bar won’t talk to you. 

6.         Stop. Whining. To paraphrase from the comedian Louis CK, you’re going to be sitting in a recliner in the sky. Be thankful that you’re not crammed in the back seat between your two siblings who are telling you that the condensation on the inside of the Chesapeake Bay tunnel is actually the tunnel leaking and that little boys don’t float so you’re going to die. (Sorry, my therapist says talking about helps. It really doesn’t.) Really people, get a grip. So you have to wait a couple minutes. So you have to sit behind the wing and hear the engine. Get over it. You’re being whisked through the sky at hundreds of miles an hour so you can escape your life for a while. Revel in that, don’t complain about it. And for the love of all that is holy, don’t be a d*ck and, when the captain says “cabin crew please be seated for take off,” hit the call button and demand a blanket when we’re on the runway. Reach up and turn your vent off and wait the whole five minutes until the aircraft is airborne. Besides, sitting in one of the last rows, I was able to look back and see what the flight attendant put in your coffee. *snicker*

            So travel well, my friends. Be courteous, dress appropriately, and travel through Atlanta at every opportunity. Really. You’ll thank me.  


© J.J. Goodman 2012. All rights reserved.