I'm Bob Griese Fly Me
Aug. 6th, 2004 08:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jawnbcI have a confession to make. I am kinda of obsessed with air travel. Today I saw an ad for Qatar Airways, and I had to check out their web site. Had to.
I fly fairly frequently (call me Golden), and while the flying part can be hideous I still get a spiritual woody from the idea of flying To Kewl Places. It started whilst growing up in the flight path of JFK Airport (Idlewild in a previous lifetime). During peak periods a jet would pass over every 6-10 minutes; 6 times a day we got Concorde (always sub-sonic). How close were we? They had to stop Mass the jets were so loud. In summer we, the extended Clan, would be lolling about on the (Rockaway) Beach. Beachside we’d see who could identify the airline by tailfin first (me! I win!). Braniff (RIP) had kewl sorbet-coloured jets. Aer Lingus was always a hit, since the odds were someone related to us was onboard (Eire is rather inbred, go maith leisceál). Airlines like KLM and Lufthansa were mysterious; Japan Air Lines was downright scary (do you think the pilot's a kamikaze?).
Don't judge us too harshly: we were ignorant white trash Oirish Americans. Several times each summer there were trips to JFK to pick up relatives--ours coming back from Over Dere, them coming Over Here for a visit. Or a stint as “undocumented workers”. I always volunteered to go to the airport for such missions, gathering timetables, looking out for incredibly kewl little vinyl....thingies that unfolded into Handy Carry-on Bags, admiring the stylish ladies in their airline uniforms. Usually we’d park, go in and do the “kiss and cry” at the International Arrivals Terminal.
Unless Da was driving. Da hates anything that requires patience--I mean, there’s always some really important golf tourny to watch on Golf TV, right? He'd pull up at the curb. And we'd wait. And we'd get chased by therent-a-copsparking police. Sometimes Da's tin (NYPD badge) would buy us more time curbside--often it wouldn’t. So we’d drive around the airport ring road, which was about 10 miles in circumference, in hideous traffic. Sometimes 2 or 3 times. Eventually our poor kinfolk would lunge out into traffic with their luggage to enter Da’s field of vision--"Jaysus Padraic didn't ya see me? I wuz jumpin up an' down!" And Da’d be cranky with them, like their desire to be picked up was wholly unfair to himi--welcome home. Indeed.
The only time we (Ma, Da, us 4 kids) all flew together, when I was 8, was when we all went Over Dere on a charter--something hideous like ATA or Bubba’s Fried Airline. Back then the 5.5 hour JFK-Shannon (SNN) hop seemed interminably long--now less than 10 hours seems like no big deal). We had to wear suits (Ma and Da's rule, not the airline's), we stayed in our seats and we didn't annoy the other passengers--if only parents on planes were similarly considerate today (not of babies, babies are different. We were 8-11 years old). For my parents’ generation, flying was only one of dozens of novel experiences. For my generation it’s much less amazing.
For me, though, it’s still a buzz, though the longer flights are only now reasonably bearable. I still get all Gidgety when it’s time to go the airport. I still love wander the terminals “just to see”. And lounge access, something new from the past few years, makes me feel nearly regal. The only part of air travel I don’t love is arriving. I have this powerful impulse to get off the plane, out of the terminal and into a moving vehicle. Vancouver friends marvel at how quickly I’m curbside (I also avoid checking bags). I always try to get a seat towards the front of the plane so I can make my quick escape. Most of my friends know to let me buzz ahead, get bags etc. The first thing I do after booking flights is to go to the airline's web site, download seat maps and call to book The Best Seat Possible. "I want 21-25C or H, or 32-25 C or H. No, not the bulkhead (arms don't go up). If there's a bassinet in 20 make it 31." Earplugs, a bottle of water, my iPod, 2 sleep tablets (anyone know why rhovane/zopliclone isn't available in the States?): strap me in (upright unless I can get 4 seats across. Or an upgrade), unbutton my jeans, pop off my shoes and climb over me if you need to get out. Are we there already?
Airlines flown: American, People Express, Alaska (excellent, ‘cept for the Bible quotes in the meals), Air Canada, Aer Lingus, KLM, Lufthansa, British Midlands, Pan Am, TWA, United, Canadian Airlines (they were great. Wah), Delta, Northworst, Continental, Midwest Express (excellent), All Nippon (excellent), Thai, Cathay Pacific (excellent), Singapore, Qantas, Air New Zealand (excellent and best 35k foot tea), Air Rarotonga, Air Pacific, Virgin Blue, South African Airways, Royal Jordanian...oh, and British Caledonia (swallowed up by BA)--they were great, even if their flight attendants looked like linebackers. The gals, not the guys . . . Favourite airlines? Air NZ, Cathay, KLM. Worst? Northworst, Contirental. Longest flight: Washington-Tokyo (17 hours?), though 14 hours (Vancouver-HKG, LA or SF-Sydney) are pretty normal now. I won't do a red-eye (overnight) of less than 9 hours if possible; unless i can get at least 5 solid hours of sleep, it's better for me to do a daylight flight.
I don’t suspect I’ll be on Qatar Airways anytime soon. No plans to fly to Doha, and they’re not a member of my global airline consortium. Plus they don’t fly to Australia or Canada. But somehow my life feels richer, just knowing their there if I need them.
I fly fairly frequently (call me Golden), and while the flying part can be hideous I still get a spiritual woody from the idea of flying To Kewl Places. It started whilst growing up in the flight path of JFK Airport (Idlewild in a previous lifetime). During peak periods a jet would pass over every 6-10 minutes; 6 times a day we got Concorde (always sub-sonic). How close were we? They had to stop Mass the jets were so loud. In summer we, the extended Clan, would be lolling about on the (Rockaway) Beach. Beachside we’d see who could identify the airline by tailfin first (me! I win!). Braniff (RIP) had kewl sorbet-coloured jets. Aer Lingus was always a hit, since the odds were someone related to us was onboard (Eire is rather inbred, go maith leisceál). Airlines like KLM and Lufthansa were mysterious; Japan Air Lines was downright scary (do you think the pilot's a kamikaze?).
Don't judge us too harshly: we were ignorant white trash Oirish Americans. Several times each summer there were trips to JFK to pick up relatives--ours coming back from Over Dere, them coming Over Here for a visit. Or a stint as “undocumented workers”. I always volunteered to go to the airport for such missions, gathering timetables, looking out for incredibly kewl little vinyl....thingies that unfolded into Handy Carry-on Bags, admiring the stylish ladies in their airline uniforms. Usually we’d park, go in and do the “kiss and cry” at the International Arrivals Terminal.
Unless Da was driving. Da hates anything that requires patience--I mean, there’s always some really important golf tourny to watch on Golf TV, right? He'd pull up at the curb. And we'd wait. And we'd get chased by the
The only time we (Ma, Da, us 4 kids) all flew together, when I was 8, was when we all went Over Dere on a charter--something hideous like ATA or Bubba’s Fried Airline. Back then the 5.5 hour JFK-Shannon (SNN) hop seemed interminably long--now less than 10 hours seems like no big deal). We had to wear suits (Ma and Da's rule, not the airline's), we stayed in our seats and we didn't annoy the other passengers--if only parents on planes were similarly considerate today (not of babies, babies are different. We were 8-11 years old). For my parents’ generation, flying was only one of dozens of novel experiences. For my generation it’s much less amazing.
For me, though, it’s still a buzz, though the longer flights are only now reasonably bearable. I still get all Gidgety when it’s time to go the airport. I still love wander the terminals “just to see”. And lounge access, something new from the past few years, makes me feel nearly regal. The only part of air travel I don’t love is arriving. I have this powerful impulse to get off the plane, out of the terminal and into a moving vehicle. Vancouver friends marvel at how quickly I’m curbside (I also avoid checking bags). I always try to get a seat towards the front of the plane so I can make my quick escape. Most of my friends know to let me buzz ahead, get bags etc. The first thing I do after booking flights is to go to the airline's web site, download seat maps and call to book The Best Seat Possible. "I want 21-25C or H, or 32-25 C or H. No, not the bulkhead (arms don't go up). If there's a bassinet in 20 make it 31." Earplugs, a bottle of water, my iPod, 2 sleep tablets (anyone know why rhovane/zopliclone isn't available in the States?): strap me in (upright unless I can get 4 seats across. Or an upgrade), unbutton my jeans, pop off my shoes and climb over me if you need to get out. Are we there already?
Airlines flown: American, People Express, Alaska (excellent, ‘cept for the Bible quotes in the meals), Air Canada, Aer Lingus, KLM, Lufthansa, British Midlands, Pan Am, TWA, United, Canadian Airlines (they were great. Wah), Delta, Northworst, Continental, Midwest Express (excellent), All Nippon (excellent), Thai, Cathay Pacific (excellent), Singapore, Qantas, Air New Zealand (excellent and best 35k foot tea), Air Rarotonga, Air Pacific, Virgin Blue, South African Airways, Royal Jordanian...oh, and British Caledonia (swallowed up by BA)--they were great, even if their flight attendants looked like linebackers. The gals, not the guys . . . Favourite airlines? Air NZ, Cathay, KLM. Worst? Northworst, Contirental. Longest flight: Washington-Tokyo (17 hours?), though 14 hours (Vancouver-HKG, LA or SF-Sydney) are pretty normal now. I won't do a red-eye (overnight) of less than 9 hours if possible; unless i can get at least 5 solid hours of sleep, it's better for me to do a daylight flight.
I don’t suspect I’ll be on Qatar Airways anytime soon. No plans to fly to Doha, and they’re not a member of my global airline consortium. Plus they don’t fly to Australia or Canada. But somehow my life feels richer, just knowing their there if I need them.
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Date: 2004-08-05 08:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-05 08:23 pm (UTC)