No-frills flying
IT'S BEEN a long time since air travel has been glamorous, but the announcement telling passengers to clean up the trash around their seats to ''keep ticket prices down" on a no-frills airline can be as jolting as turbulence.
A person who hasn't flown for a while -- and who still remembers when people got dressed up to do it -- might want to invoke the names of the sainted Orville and Wilbur. A person might want to rise to a half-crouch from the middle seat and shout: ''This is supposed to be an airplane, ladies and gentlemen, not a subway car with wings, not the midnight bus to Newark, not the old station wagon with the popcorn stuffed behind the seat cushions!"
But one does not shout for fear of being subdued, handcuffed, and taken away to the interrogation room after landing. One opts to sit and squirm, feeling assaulted by the death of decorum, by not so much as a glimmer of the old jet-setter savoir faire, and by flight attendants who might as well be growling ''You want fries with that?"
A passenger question about available beverages can prompt the attendant to slap an airline magazine menu down on the food tray, followed by a teeny bag of pretzels so light it flies off onto the floor.
Perhaps that partly explains the floor, though passengers are hardly neat. The ''clean up your trash" announcement often does no good, for an emptying plane can look as littered as an emptying ballpark.
Maybe it's the crowd mentality, or the sense that people are flying cheap, which may make them act cheap -- something they would not have done on prestigious Pan Am in its heyday, or on those Delta ''champagne flights" in the pre-deregulation era when airlines competed with amenities.
Today it's about saving money. John Heimlich, chief economist for the Air Transportation Association -- the industry trade group -- noted in a phone interview that passengers don't really care about food, or tight quarters, if the ticket price is good. He added that a frill today is a seat equipped with live TV, wireless service, or satellite radio.
Judy Graham-Weaver, public relations manager for the budget
Whatever happened to staring out the window to meditate on the clouds? Whatever happened to relishing the lack of contact with earth's electronic noise, or enjoying a conversation with a stranger in the next seat?
The airplane trip used to be a treat, a cherry on the sundae of travel. Today it can be an endurance test and a handful of pretzels -- maybe. It may be inevitable, and understandable, but that doesn't mean it's not lamentable.
