Flying. We all do it. We take vacations. We fly for business. It’s one of the most unpleasant experiences we put up with to get where we’re going. The only other experience I can compare it to is going to the hospital for surgery. Which is something no one looks forward to. For both surgery and flying you have to arrive hours before you receive the service you’re actually paying for. You have to go through what can be an embarrassing personal experience. At the airport, you have to go through security which can require removing shoes, belts, everything in your pockets. Your carry on bag is x-rayed by a TSA agent looking for creams or lotions or threatening objects that you could use to hijack the plane, and you have to remember to leave your ammunition at home. You can be picked for a random check. The agent sticks a metal probe into you bag and starts digging through your stuff. It can make you very uncomfortable.
The hospital process takes things a lot further. They lead you to a curtained off cubical and tell you to remove all your clothes and put them in a plastic bag. They give you the gown that opens in the back for the world to see your behind. They give you a wrist band and keep asking your name and date of birth. I once went in and they used a marker to designate what side my hernia was on. You are hooked up to some IV line. You are essentially a hostage. Once you board that plane you are jammed into a long metal tube with hundreds of strangers, a narrow aisle, a small seat with no leg room and ordered to tie yourself up with a seat belt. Once the door closes, you can’t get off. You are a hostage. The two most important people in your life for next few hours are the pilot and the doctor. You have to hope both had a good night’s sleep and weren’t out drinking. You never want to hear the doctor’s running late. You have to trust the pilot knows where he’s going and how to get there. You have no control. Of course, during surgery you’re unconscious. You have to trust the doctor is cutting in the right place and he doesn’t sneeze at a critical moment.
After the surgery, you slowly awaken. Ideally, your wife or husband is sitting next to the gurney smiling and asking how you’re feeling. They tell you the doctor said everything went well. The doctor may stop in the reassure you. They take you to recovery. You have to pee before they will let you go home with pills for the pain. That time you were under is erased from you memory. Not so much when you’ve been flying. You remember every uncomfortable minute. Reading and trying to sleep can only fill so much time. And you have to hope another passenger doesn’t get upset about something and you have to help the flight attendant restrain the nut.
Once you land, you’re relieved. But now you have to get your luggage. You feel great when your bag is one of the first to come out on the carousel. Like taking one of those pain pills after surgery. Not so great when you wait for the last bag to come out and it’s not yours. You go to the baggage customer service desk. They check your claim check. Oops, Your bag went to Cleveland. We’ll call you when we get it back. You can’t help thinking the last thing they said to you right before take off was “Sit back and enjoy the flight.”
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