Tin Can Space Machines

Airplanes are bunk.

Like, I don’t mean to disparage the concept of aviation as a whole, especially when my sister’s going into aerospace engineering, and I especially don’t want this to come off as a “dumb millennials don’t know what older generations had to put up with” kind of piece (at least, without acknowledging early on that that’s the kind of piece it’s going to end up being). I really do enjoy being able to go to places at speeds people less than 100 years ago would consider impossible. But that doesn’t mean that new technology doesn’t come with a host of new-technology problems.

• • • 

I just boarded a plane. It’s a small one, only forty-eight passenger seats and maybe two attendants at best. We’ve all boarded and the captain rings the intercom. Apparently, our destination has some low visibility issues, so if we could all just get off for, well, they don’t know how long but if we could leave the plane for now, that would be great…

• • • 

There’s a reason comedians have made entire routines starting with the simple phrase, “What’s the deal with airplane food?” And sure, huge strides have been made to make sure that those specific jokes are a thing of the past. But jokes about airplane food are a symptom of a larger problem about how these companies aim to make money, and just because this particular symptom has been downplayed does not mean the sickness overall has been quelled (#eattherich).

Besides, comedians will move on to other things to poke at in the airport system. John Mulaney, for example, has an entire bit where he imagines himself dealing with a fictional airline service he calls “Delta Airlines” and their perhaps excessively malicious customer service. It’s kind of their job to do things like that.

• • • 

I’m at 36,000 feet. Flight attendants are handing out little sandwiches -- turkey or veggie -- to all the passengers, but they seem to be paying more attention to each other as they bicker about who needs to get what for later (maybe someone in First Class needs more coffee? Probably, it’s always someone from up front…). When they get to me, I get the same question this woman has asked everybody: “Turkey or veggie?” she says.

“Veggie,” I say. 

I get a sandwich. I take a bite. It’s turkey.

• • • 

I write all this with the, if not the memory of, the awareness that things were probably different back when flying was a luxury or at the very least something of note to do. Again, it’s mundane now. Flying is boring, and Icarus wouldn’t have flown like he did if it was boring, so maybe there’s something to that idea. That’s why comedians get so much mileage out of it; because so many people have had similar experiences.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t want them to be better, right? Like, until we make that technological leap to teleportation (and get over the related ethical problems), this is what we’re stuck with. The least we could do would be making it the best hours of our life.

• • • 

As I make my way past customs, one bag in my hand and the other on my back, I see her face, and I remember why I came all this way in the first place. All these petty grievances, from that kid two rows up who would occasionally bawl his lungs out to how frequently they seemed to cycle the cabin lights on and off, that’s all washed away. I smile. She smiles back.

“How was the flight?” she says.

“Fine.”

-F