Frontier Airlines, the Greyhound of the Sky
I remember my parents making me dress in nice clothes when we would travel by plane as kids. Sure the clothes were uncomfortable but it made me feel like we were doing something special. We could spend a few hours in one of these magical flying death traps and arrive in a place where the weather was better or the language was different, someplace that was clearly far from home. On the plane as kids we were intimidated into good behavior sitting quietly reading, doing word puzzles, or playing cards. The stewardesses were pretty and their uniforms looked pressed and proper, the patrons dressed with some dignity, and there was a drink, a snack, and a meal. Those days are long gone my friends.
My last flight a non-stop from Denver to Orlando was a total disaster, a herculean test of patience, and a window seat view to the decline of American social standards. First off Denver to Orlando means dealing with Tofu eating, Teva wearing, too “loving” to discipline my children hippies making their sacred family pilgrimage to see that all American Deity with the giant ears. My flight was sabotaged by one such shit parade.
She appeared with two fully stuffed carry-on sized rolling bags, a backpack with one bottle of water and one bottle of baby formula attached by carabiner, and a toddler who was probably too old to still be riding in the papoose contraption slung across her chest. We first crossed paths at the check in desk where she argued with the clerk over her bags, and for a brief second I sympathized with struggle as a single traveling mother. She was rude to the attendant proclaiming that because she purchased two seats she should be able to have a total of 4 carry on pieces of luggage. I looked up from my security line as I heard the words “it’s baby formula not a fucking bomb” shouted by the peace loving hippie mom. That was the last I saw of her as I waited for my flight and read a magazine. I boarded my flight and was disappointed to find I was the in the second to last row at the back but sighed gratefully to find my row was empty. Sure enough the last person to board our rather full flight was marajuana mommy and her patchuli princess. She dragged her assortment of bags down the aisle to my row, and proclaimed that we were to become “ROW MATES”. I gave the best smile I could muster and closed my eyes to find my happy place. I looked up in a panic as this woman was shrieking for help, she had gotten herself tangled in her backpack and was precariously close to dropping her child. The stewardess rushed to her aid and her shrieks stopped her startled toddler’s cry now rose to a feverish pitch. She set the child in the seat next to me and complained directly to me about her wrenched back with complete disregard for the fact that I was wearing giant headphones and couldn’t understand a word she was saying. I removed the headphones incorrectly assuming she had something crucial to say only to hear her say that she needed to get in alignment with a Chatteranga Then to my surprise she started doing Yoga moves right there in the aisle.
Take off was all that you might expect, the infant screamed like someone was pouring hot lead into her ears and the mother tried to calm her with sweet crooning of some Dave Matthews Koom-by-ya bullshit. This is one of those little know acceptions in the FAA rule book allowing me to immediately activate my Ipod to drown out this sound and save me from becoming a full fledge terrorist.
Once we leveled off I turned on my computer and began watching a movie, and for a short time forgot about the circus surrounding me on this plane. Near the end of the movie I glanced over to the seat next to me after my elbow was nudged no less then 5 times. What I saw only 12 inched to my left was a toddlers naked ass and a wet yellowed diaper. I threw off my headphone and asked as civilly as possible if she needed me to get up to let her use the lavatory. “I DON’T THINK IT IS VERY SANITARY IN THERE” was her candid response.
REALLY….. REALLY?
Fucking incredible, I finished my movie and threw on my ipod, breathing deeply to keep myself calm and thinking about what is happening in this crazy world of ours. By the time we touched down I was armed with a renewed motivation to live up to my potential, to work hard to make the kind of money that affords me First Class Airfare.
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Comments
that is just too much! somehow i’m surprised i wasn’t with you because usually it’s me that’s cursed to be involved in ridiculous circumstances like that!
Just re-read this (and found lots of other cool stuff on yr blog). Memorable!
What will historians/sociologists/demographers say when they dig up the bones of our once great society?
Genius! As always, your writing is an inspiration. I like reading the way your mind works. Thanks for blogging.