Steerage

Flying isn’t a picnic. It’s an exercise in humiliation, subjugation and punishment.

I am not complaining about the screening process. Boarding a plane with a bomb, knife or gun toting fellow flyer is not high on my list of things to do. Walking barefoot and being x-rayed or patted down are acceptable alternatives to having the mad bomber as a seat mate.

My complaints begin after the screening process. All the American carriers (I think we have about 3 left) are trying to make us as MISERABLE AS POSSIBLE so we will buy our way out of their sadistic tricks.

For example, my husband and I forevermore will be the last passengers on the plane. I never check luggage preferring a small carry on that fits under the seat. My husband does likewise, but with longer legs he prefers to stow his bag in the overhead.

In case you haven’t flown recently, here is the new boarding order: Platinum members, gold members, silver members and preferred card members, families with small children (that includes 4 and 5 year olds who are perfectly capable of walking if so inclined), passengers with no bags, passengers with bags that fit under the seat and, lastly, passengers that have bags for the overhead compartments. In other words, “we will punish you for not buying premium tickets, paying bag checking fees or purchasing extra leg room, and we do not care how long it takes to board the plane!”

Since I do not give in to blackmail, I’m doomed to steerage, a word I freely use when communicating with the flight attendants.

The poor do not inherit the earth. They don’t inherit the airspace, either.

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