Buckle your seatbelt, sit back and enjoy the flight, because, folks, we are about to veer off course.
I've decided to write this week's column about air travel -- but not about a consumer aspect like high prices or lost luggage. Rather, I want to talk about high tensions and lost civility. I flew three times in the past week and each and every time I encountered simmering rage. Worse yet, a confession: one of those times, the rage was my own.
Two Fridays ago I was flying from Washington to Cincinnati for a family wedding. My husband and 2-year-old daughter were with me. We had brought my daughter's car seat aboard, because an FAA official I interviewed once told me that it is by far the safest way for little ones to fly. We were conscious of the fact that the car seat positioned our daughter's feet right behind the seat back in front of her. Even before the plane took off, we started coaching her not to kick the seat. I told her again several times during the flight.
It's only an hour and 20 minute trip and I thought it went beautifully. No crying or fussing. As we descended, I excitedly pointed out the seemingly miniature cars and buildings below, and Kelsea giggled with delight. When we touched down, I said to her, "Wasn't that fun?" That's when the man in front of my daughter wheeled around and angrily exclaimed, "No, that was not fun. It was miserable and uncomfortable with her kicking the seat the entire way."
I gaped at him and then stammered that we had tried our best and that it's hard to communicate concepts like this to a 2-year-old and even harder to get her to control her naturally squirmy little self.
"Well, at least you could apologize," he said. OK. My question is, why didn't he say something during the flight to let us know, so we could take steps to help? What was the point of confronting me after the flight, other than to make me feel awful?
Now, before you all slam me for acting holier-than-thou, here's my flip side. This past Tuesday I was getting some more frequent flyer miles on a flight to Miami for a story. Before the plane even took off, the woman in front of me reclined her seat right into my personal space. My blood boiled. After all, if I'm not mistaken, the FAA requires passengers to keep their seats upright during takeoff and landing. I'm not sure why that rule exists, but she was breaking it, man. And she was inconveniencing me.
I seriously considered shoving her seat into the upright position. But then I thought about it. She was settling in for a nice nap. I'm not a very big person. And it's not like her seat was any more in-my-face than it was going to be in five minutes when we got into the air. So I took a deep breath, a big sip of water and went back to my book. Reading novels on airplanes is one of my rare and treasured respites.