Have you noticed how airplane travel has changed in the past few years? I’m not just talking about the new security restrictions and full body searches we submit to every time we fly the friendly skies, although that aspect has certainly livened up our flying experiences.
No; my point is that they let pretty much anybody fly these days and, in some cases, I think the airlines search out uniquely rude people on purpose and give them special deals to sort of spice things up. And this rudeness doesn’t just take place on board the airplane – it begins when you arrive at the terminal.
Take a recent trip I took for instance. There I was, minding my own business while waiting for my departure time at San Jose International Airport. There, too, was the passenger with the ubiquitous cell phone plastered to his ear. You know the one. The guy who thinks it’s “open-mic” night at the San Francisco Improv. I’m sure you’ve heard this opener last time you underwent air travel:
“Yeah, I’m at the airport waiting to get on the plane.” Now why, for the love of God, is this so critically important to everybody who has ever crossed his or her path? I don’t know either, but for some reason you will hear this about 99.9 percent of the times you fly – followed by all manners of conversations that I, for one, don’t wish to be privy to and are the preludes to blaring discussions that re-commence the second the wheels touch the runaway when all the cell phones fire back up as one, and you are assaulted with:
“Hi, we just landed and …”
So there I was, sitting in the uncomfortable molded plastic seat at my gate, and the guy behind me was transmitting away, becoming progressively louder as his conversation proceeded. But not only was he getting louder, his vocabulary was becoming quite, well … shall we say “colorful?”
“So I told Michelle, ‘I don’t need this pile of %$## and if you want to hold onto your 40-hour-pay schedule you better get a @$$$##ing attitude change or I’m going to put you back on part time,’ ” he broadcasted unnecessarily.
Now, please understand that I am not a total prude. If I open the freezer door in my kitchen and a 10-pound roast falls on my big toe, I’m apt to utter something a little stronger than, “Oh, fiddlesticks! That certainly hurt!” Or if the IRS should leave a message on our voicemail demanding we bring in the last 15 years of tax returns because they are doing some random checking, I may not respond with an, “Oh, my! This is fascinating news.” But come on!
Casting the evil eye at this nuisance was going nowhere, plus he was rapidly clearing a rather large swath around himself as other passengers covered children’s ears and gathered their belongings, attempting to travel out of earshot. So you can imagine my happiness when Super Mouth boarded the plane and proceeded to make his way down the aisle – still on the phone – turned into my row and plopped down in the seat next to mine.
“Excuse me!” I said, poking him none too gently on the arm. “The flight attendant said this isn’t a full flight and we can spread out.” Normally I’m not that blunt but this guy was on my last nerve. Fortunately my words penetrated the haze of expletives, and he plowed onward and out of earshot.
Then there are the noisy passengers who travel in large packs and feel it their job to entertain the half dozen rows behind and in front of their horde. My spouse and I became enmeshed with one such mob recently on a pre-cruise flight to Vancouver, British Columbia. Now, I don’t mean to judge, but the grating grammar gaffes, loud belches and thunderous conversation spewing back and forth led me to believe this crowd suffered some serious DNA flaws going waaaaay down deep into the gene pool.
“Ah’m worried about Gerald’s IQ,” announced one boisterous woman whose towering teased blonde head bounced about continuously above her seat back. “He gripes cuz I watch QVC, but all he watches on the TV is Montel and Jerry Springer. That is such trash! I mean – where do they find them people??”
“How about in rows 10 through 12 of this aircraft?” muttered my husband under his breath.
But it’s always something with air travel, and on my aforementioned flight, the security threshold had just been heightened to Orange. Now there are pretty much three things that will increase security levels at airports: Osama bin Laden is inside the terminal at JFK in New York videotaping a new communique; North Korea has scheduled a nuclear test beneath the east runway at O’Hare; I have a confirmed reservation to fly that day.
If security matters get any worse, I’m afraid the airlines will implement my friend Cecilia’s prediction, which is pretty soon all airline passengers will be required to wear hospital gowns. Won’t that be fun? All of the formerly rude passengers trampling over everybody to be the first to deplane will now wait for everyone else to depart, and we’ll be bottlenecked by good manners: “After you. No, after you …” because word has filtered back that the lady in 10A has to catch a connecting flight and “Wait till you see the rear end on that one!”
So let’s not let Cecilia get the ear of the folks at Homeland Security with her hospital gown theory and give them any new ideas. Because with my luck, I’ll be the lady in 10A.
Gale Hammond is a 23-year Morgan Hill resident. Reach her at
Ga*********@ao*.com
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