I’m leaving soon to pick up my friends Hans and Christyn from the airport and it reminded me I haven’t yet blogged about our trip back to California.  I will forever remember it as the day I began to hate flying.  I’ve only been flying regularly for about two years now, and I have always tried to remain optimistic about it.  My introduction to flying was in July of 2001, right before 9-11.  It was a one hour flight from Charlotte to New York and we all got a full lunch on board!  Those were the good old days…Flying always seemed full of mystery to me.  Airports are full of people going somewhere or returning from somewhere, each one with a story.  Flying miles above the earth’s surface is fascinating, and I always sought the window seat.  Now I have given up hope of actually enjoying travel and try only to survive it.

We left Charlotte Tuesday and flew straight to San Diego where we were to change planes and then fly to Los Angeles.  We flew US Airways, even though we booked through United.  We paid $30 to check our luggage.  Here is the first place the airlines have you in a corner.  You aren’t allowed to carry on enough liquids to maintain proper hygiene for any extended length of time.  But you have to pay for each checked bag now.  They could charge you pretty much whatever they wanted because you have no other choice, aside from perhaps Fedexing your toiletries to your destination.

Then, once in the air, the flight attendant announced the meal and snacks available for purchase as well as the drink menu.  I am used to getting at least one complimentary drink on long flights.  This one was over five hours, remember.  We had arrived late to the airport and hadn’t had time to purchase food or water there.  By the time the flight attendant reached the back of the plane, where we were sitting, she had sold out of the meals and had only two of the “snack packs” left.  Josh bought one because he was hungry and we had hours to go before San Diego.  Here is what his five dollars bought:  one small can of Bumblebee chicken salad (gross), a couple packs of saltines, a container of strawberry jam, a pat of butter, a packet of water crackers, and a pack of sugar cookies that contained 2 grams of trans fat per serving.  Disgusting.  And five dollars.

I wanted a complimentary cup of water, which I didn’t think was too much to ask.  After all, our total bill for both of us, round trip, was over $900.  The flight attendant sighed and said she’d have to get it from the tap.  When she gave it to me, I could feel through the cup that the water was warm.  The ice quickly melted in the warm tap water. All the while, I am staring down at my tray table-turned bill board.  Apparently US Airways has taken to selling ad space on their planes.  I guess that doesn’t generate enough revenue to pay for my cup of water.

Add to all that the screaming two-year-old across the aisle from us.  I’ll try to be nice as I don’t have kids yet and can’t possibly relate.  But why is it that mother’s never know how to quiet their screaming children.  She just clutched him to her chest really tight and said “I don’t know what to tell you.”  At some points the child was actually roaring.  He wanted to get off the plane.  Of course he’s too young to understand what that would entail.  But his mother was completely ineffective at calming him.

Finally we land and are waiting to “deplane” as they say.  A male flight attendant is talking and joking in the galley behind us.  He begins to sing a cheer (a la high school cheerleading squad) about Bernie Mac, and how, you know, he’s dead.    “Bernie Mac, to the grave…”  When another passenger commented on how disrespectful that was he laughed and said it was just a cheer.  A cheer about all the people who died this year.  Then he continued the cheer, adding in Paul Newman.  It was the most insensitive and unprofessional behavior I have ever seen from a flight attendant.

We arrive at the San Diego airport, starving and tired.  After a week of binging at holiday celebrations we felt the need for a salad.  I bought us a salad and a $4 water from California Pizza Kitchen.  It was disgusting and we didn’t even eat half of it.  There went $12.

Then we discover that not all of the airport terminals there are linked.  So we have to leave the terminal and take a bus to another one.  This means leaving the secure area.  We take the bus, get off at the wrong stop, and back track on foot for five or ten minutes.  Finally we arrive at the commuter terminal, only to go through security again.  This is when I threw out the $4 bottle of water that was more than half full.  And my purse was searched.  Amazingly, the security officer found nothing suspicious among my tubes of chapstick, tampons, cell phone, and wallet.

By the time we arrived at LAX we were too tired, disgruntled, and hungry to even think about taking the flyaway bus to Union Station, the red line subway back to North Hollywood, and dragging our luggage four blocks back to our apartment.  So we took a taxi and paid over $80.

And that is the story of how I came to hate flying.