Chanel or $12.00 crackers?

Airplane travel has never been one of my, let's say, top 10 favorite things to do on the earth. It's a means to an end, really. And since the end usually justifies the means in our case because it almost always involves someplace warm, with lots of white sand beaches, a few fish, and dynamite sunsets over turquoise seas, we cope with the air travel part of the equation.

But the whole 'traveling process' does not thrill me, I gotta be honest. It begins with the "thinking about what to pack" part, then progresses to the actual packing part (in our case, this progress is painfully slow since we almost always pack less than 12 hours before our plane actually departs. It's not always our fault, since everything we chose in the "thinking about packing" part of this whole ordeal is usually in the laundry when it comes time to fold it neatly and pack it away into a suitcase). Then comes the packing the luggage into the car, checking the house for the inevitable one thing you are going to forget no matter how many times you check the house, getting everyone safely buckled into the car only to have to undo at least one child's seat, get them out, unlock the house, and accompany them to the bathroom. Again. Then, it's driving to the airport, finding the only available parking space which is happily located in the furthest parking lot from civilization imaginable, schlepping all your marvelously packed suitcases, laptops, and carry ons (which, if you're me, usually contain a comfy pillow, supply of tart candies, and at least one Dr. Pepper) to the airport. Along with your children, who seem to be determined to work against you in this endeavor, and their 47 toys, diapers, bottles, necessities, and trifles. The then whole dance of porter services, another bathroom break or two, waiting in line to get to the check in counter only to be told your checked luggage is 4 ounces overweight requiring a $50.00 additional fee for overweight baggage, payable-immediately-and-they-do-take-cash.

Mentally berating yourself for having packed that extra pair of socks (now worth $50) that threw your bags over into the "FAT" category, you make it to the airport line for X-ray check in. This is the line that moves at the speed of light. Yeah, "light" cargo strapped to the backs of little snails. During which time someone in your party has to use the bathroom again. And someone else decides to show their disdain for the waiting process by running for the hills in the opposite direction you are going while trying to pull off their diaper and fling it at innocent passengers. Finally, you find yourself at the front of the X-ray line, where everything you are carrying, holding, wearing over your clothes, is draped over your shoulders, in your pockets, on your ears, holding up your pants, being worn on your feet, or you have given birth to is summarily required to be stripped off and scanned. And your perfectly packed laptop, purse, diaper/carry on bag is opened, perused, and then scrunched into little sterile containers for the trip through the X-ray machine and then wiped down with bomb detecting discs.

Once you and your two and five year old children are determined not to be a threat to national security and allowed to proceed forward, you reassemble yourself and repack, under a copious time constraint, the various items you had once packed so nicely earlier at a leisurely pace, and find yourself... at another X-ray check point.

After repeating the above scenarios several times, you reach your gate and find yourself in one of two predicaments. Either you've arrived too early and will need to find a way to pacify the restless natives while trying to stave off the threat of your prickling legs refusing to function altogether, but do not have enough time or energy to wander back through the airport maze to the last place you noticed there might be a morsel of food available for purchase along with a magazine or two and maybe even a roll of Mentos. OR... you are running to the gate carrying kids on each hip while your poor longsuffering husband is burdened with every scrap of luggage you brought, down the longest hallway ever designed for airports, with no help from those flat escalator helpy walky thingys in the middle of nowhere that seem so popular with every airport but the one you happen to be in. Everyone around you seems to be operating at warp speed except for you and all those traveling with you. Worse, your gate happens to be the one next to the airport Chili's. The delicious food smells waft tantalizingly in your nostrils as your family of roadrunners sprints down the jetway to the airplane trailing items from gaping bags left open by airport security that you had hoped would actually make it to your destination with you.

Finally, you're on the plane, mauevering frontally through an aisle apparently designed for traveling sideways. After pole vaulting your carry on's into the 6 centimeters of space left in the overhead compartment, you settle yourself and the kids into seats designed to allow every angle of your body to unpleasantly invade the personal space of each adjacent passenger. And buckle up for a long flight in cramped quarters.

During which, we were dismayed to learn last month, it is now becoming standard airline policy to NOT offer a meal. As in, AT ALL. On our 5 hour and 15 minute American Airlines flight which spanned over midmorning and lunch time, no food was served whatsoever. Midway through the flight, drinks and a "snack pack" was offered to us at a cost of $12.00. The snack pack contained miniature packages of Ritz crackers and Oreos and some peanuts. I think it broke down to $1.00 per cookie or a quarter per peanut. Lovely. I simply would not pay $12.00 for that meager "snack pack" on principle. $12.00 typically buys a decent dinner at any given budget restaurant - no way was I shelling out twelve bucks for a few nuts and nibbles.

And considering that airfare costs are rising everyday in seemingly direct ratio with the burdening hassle and inconvenience factors, it is disheartening to realize the services we once took for granted (like food and water on long flight) are now starkly absent. Or they've been replaced by a craptastic snacky packy thingy for an extra fee of $12.00. What is the new plan here? To hold the small amount of food on board for ransom to the highest bidders?

But to add insult to injury was the airline magazine in the on-board seat pocket, which included a long article highlighting the delightful new trend that was being noticed by the airlines: dressing up for air travel. The article detailed the increasing numbers of travelers that are apparently wearing formal, dressy attire, complete with heels and glitzy jewelry, in order to mark the occasion of sitting on their behinds for any number of hours.

I'm sorry, but when the airlines fawn over the fact that people are wearing cashmere and Chanel as they occupy their seats while simultaneously denying passengers food and drink for 5+ hours at a stretch, there appears to be a strong disconnect between the airline industry and, say, REALITY.