I Felt Like a Bag Of Hammers But Not as Smart

I grew up happily roaming gravel meant for travel, because I knew that one day, I’d be flying my own car like George Jetson.

I dragged my dented fenders through an airport. It’s a battered backpack in slightly better condition than I was. I felt like I’d been built from recycled parts, Play-Doh, silly string, silly putty and duct tape. There was a time when my mother required all family members leaving the house in March to take a jacket. I didn’t. Sorry, Mom.

Martin H. Fischer said, “Life is a ticket to the greatest show on Earth.”

That meant I had two tickets because I had a ticket to fly. Not over a rainbow, but way up high.

An airport comes with surround sound. William Osler said, “Laughter is the music of life.” I’m not sure what countless people talking loudly into cellphones is called.

An empty wheelchair came at me. I stopped. It stopped. The airport had autonomous wheelchairs assigned to transport passengers through the airport. Sensors detect obstacles like me and engage automatic brakes. Once passengers reach their destination, the chair returns to its base autonomously.

Flying can be slightly unpleasant. The 10 things I hate about flying are an airplane seat and nine other airplane seats.

  It was an evening flight. There was a lot of yawning that led to a yawning epidemic. I hunkered down in the gate area and waited to board. I listened as the gate agent announced that customers needing assistance or additional time, and active-duty or retired U.S. Military could board. That was followed by Zone 1–Delta One and First-Class customers, which was succeeded by Zone 2–Diamond Medallion members, Delta 360° members, and Delta Premium Select, plus early access customers traveling with car seats and strollers. Then it was Zone 3–Delta Comfort customers who paraded down the red carpet. Then Zone 4–Platinum, Gold Medallion members, and SkyTeam Elite Plus boarded. Zone 5 allowed Silver Medallion, Delta SkyMiles Card members (Gold, Platinum, Reserve), to find a seat in Delta Main Extra. Zone 6 welcomed SkyMiles members to the Delta Main Classic. Zone 7 found places for non-SkyMiles members and hitchhikers in Delta Main Classic. Lastly, Zone 8, otherwise known as “all roller bags must be checked,” “the dregs of society” and Al Batt boarded Delta Main Basic. Any turbulence was concentrated in Zone 8.

  I found my perch and stashed my weary bag under the seat ahead of me. Like a “Star Trek” character, I had a static Klingon both sides.

A helpful flight safety video explained critical emergency procedures, including seat belt operation, emergency exits, oxygen mask usage, and life vest location.

“So that’s how you buckle a seatbelt,” said a loud voice dripping in sarcasm.

Gravity soon lessened its grip.

I flew in peasant class. I sat in the middle seat in row 32. The only reason I wasn’t sitting in row 33 was that row 32 was the last row. I sat between a young man returning home after working in Massachusetts. He’d spend 13 hours at home before heading to Omaha for work. His job was replacing concrete floors for businesses. He dragged jackhammers around. I’ve run jackhammers, so we shared tales of jiggled innards. The younger man on my other side had a growling stomach. The cavalry rode in just in time. A flight attendant felt sorry for us poor folks sitting back in what should be cheap seats but weren’t and gave each of us two small snack packs with our lovely complimentary beverage. That crew member knew they couldn’t have flown without the boys in the back row.

When it came time to deplane, row 32 strutted our way off the aircraft to no fanfare.

After a shuttle ride to a car rental place, with its obligatory long wait, an agent told me I was her 104th renter of the day. I didn’t get a participation trophy.

In an hour, I’d found a bed. My hotel room was lovely. It didn’t smell like microwaved fish. I have low standards for determining the loveliness of a hotel room.

My trip takeaway: George Jetson’s flying car didn’t have a 32nd row, but if I can’t be happy in Zone 8, I can’t be happy anywhere.