My 6 Reasons for Hating Air Travel

“You suffer when you travel.” – Lillian Lagos, the mother-in-law of my stepson, Jeremy.

As of this writing, I’m on United Flight 533 bound for Chicago. It’s the Friday heading into the Chicago Marathon and Columbus Day. Just across the aisle, two parents are trying to placate a screaming toddler.

They seem like good parents. When they first boarded, the dad pulled out a trio of board books, one of which told a tale about a tractor and had wheels with tires the kid could turn. As the tot became more and more restless, the dad tried walking up and down the aisles with the kid in his arms.

Now the mom is resorting to a box of raisins. True to form, the tot eats one, and then commences throwing the raisins.

I remember the drill with my own Daphne, soon to leave for a trip to Spain and France with her husband, Etan. First reading aloud the stack of paperback children’s books brand new and never before seen. When that trick began to fail, it was juice and animal crackers, great for throwing and at least not sticky.

I’m happy about Daphne and Etan’s trip, and even a tad envious. Distant memories of the trips to Paris I took with Daphne and her Dad, and the more recent memories of the trips to England and Italy I took with Dennis leave me riddled with nostalgia.

The reality is that I hate trips requiring air travel, and it has nothing to do with fear of flying. Here are 6 reasons:

(1) Even with my mandatory aisle seat and a mere two hour flight, it feels horribly confining to be squeezed into a tiny seat, especially when the person in front of me, well within her rights, reclines her seat – bumping the screen of my 13 inch MacBook.

(2) Needing to take off my coat, shoes, and belt in public as I go through the TSA screening. (In a moment of free association I remember my father threatening to take his belt off. This was pre-air travel, and an attempt to curb an unruly child that now seems laughable because it was just a threat.)

(3) Having to carry my shampoo, conditioner, and leave-in conditioner in three ounce plastic bottles. In a moment of great rebellion, I took a larger bottle of eye makeup remover that was ¾ empty, and a big tube of toothpaste with just enough left in it to see me through the weekend. Eat your hearts out, TSA screeners. You once confiscated my new, unopened toiletries, and I assure you it won’t happen again.

(4) Being reduced to getting my regular clothing plus gym gear for an entire weekend of very changeable weather conditions – including the possibility of cold and heavy downpours – into one Tumi carry-on that holds a lot more than it looks like it can hold. The only issues are whether it will fit in an overhead compartment in its fully tumescent state, or whether I’ve forgotten something essential like running socks.

(5) Begging Dennis to fit our Nikon SLR -- lovingly encased in a camera case bag -- inside the Swiss Army carry-on he began using after I told him that it was too heavy for me to place inside the overhead compartment, even if I stood on the seat. (Dennis begged me to take a point and shoot, but I insisted I was looking forward to shooting some nice landscape shots of the Windy City, perhaps from one of those boats cruising Lake Michigan.)

(6) Experiencing the anxiety of going economy class, knowing that by the time Group 5 is called, there will be no space left in the overhead compartments for our suitcases, and all because those other self-indulgent travelers used the largest carry-on pieces permissible by the regs, augmented by bulging knapsacks.

Readers, please use comments section to add your own gripes about air travel.