Air Travel Rant

I flew to California for Thanksgiving on a discount carrier. I was unfamiliar with this airline. When they announced the flight, they said that first-class passengers and “Zone 1” passengers could begin boarding. I was sure I was not either of those, and a quick check of my boarding pass showed I was in Zone 6. “Not great, but not too bad,” I thought.

However, it took a long time to board the first three zones. The waiting area was nearly vacant. When the loud-speaker lady readied for the next announcement, I shifted in my seat. I don’t know why I was anxious; I knew we’d all leave at the same time.

“Now boarding Zone 3.1.” What?! You can’t have non-integers. Isn’t that an FAA regulation?

Ten minutes later she’s like “3.2? Zone 3.25? Any stand-by travelers? Stowaways? Hitchhikers?”  Later It was just me, the cleaning crew, and a few crickets.  "Now boarding Zone 5 point eight."

At the end of the jet way, just before stepping onto the plane, I realized that I have a quirky habit of doing a quick visual scan of the rivets near the door, as if to check that the craft was OK by me to fly. I don’t know what I would say if one rivet appeared to be loose.

“Excuse me, Mr. Pilot, sir. I couldn’t help but notice that the hull of this plane seems to be compromised.”

Then he’d look at it, gasp, and have everyone deplane. I would get my picture in the paper under the headline “Observant Passenger Averts Disaster.” I mean, what is the harm in one more set of eyes?

I had to change planes in Phoenix. I was surprised at how short the flight was. I soon learned why. Sky Harbor is ENORMOUS and apparently we only had to fly from Dallas to the easternmost gate, Terminal C.

My connecting flight was at Terminal A, gate 3 so I had to “haul freight.” When I finally made it past gate C-147, there was a large sign pointing me to Terminals A and B. The moving sidewalks helped, but I couldn’t believe how far away it was. I started seeing little mile markers. Dairy Queen – Exit 24. Scenic Outlook Ahead. Now crossing the Continental Divide. I should have probably got a flight from Terminal C to Terminal A.

Finally I made it to Terminal A, but it was only gates 16-29. Keep walking. The next large corridor was for gates 4 through 15. Are you kidding me? Keep walking. Then it said Gates 3.6 through 3.9. C’mon! The decimals are killing me!