In my last blog post, I rattled on and on about the romanticism of travel. I didn’t want you readers to walk away with the impression that I am some sort of travel freak, so I decided to follow up with some of my pet peeves about travel.
You know you have to go through it. You know you cannot wear shoes or a jacket or a belt or any metal. You know you cannot carry your wallet, your change, your photos of the kids, or your lucky lighter. The liquid thing is true, gasp. So why is it when you get up to those shiny sliver bins, no one is prepared? The line was long enough, how is it that once you get up to the front, chaos erupts? Whoa, gotta get this coat and scarf off, and my shoes? Shoes, too? Still? Okay, hold on, I will do that after I take my laptop out of the bag. Okay people, listen up, it’s the same rules, same line, same crap. Use your time in line to prep, have a plan of attack so to speak. Take off the jacket and put it in your mammoth carry-on (more on that to come). Put your boarding pass in your pocket and focus! You can do this, you can do this!
I realize in the advent of baggage fees, that people try to squeeze everything into a carry-on. I get that. If I can get away with it, I do too. But it is the sheer size of the carry-ons that gets me. Do you see that little metal bin on the floor that says “Your bag must fit within this space to fly”? It does not mean that you can fit the metal bin in your bag, with enough room for your Starbucks’ snacks, it means that your whole bag needs to fit in there.
And once these ridiculously sized bags make it on the plane, please put your bag over you own seat. Oh wait, there is no room? Could it be that you have too much stuff? It does not mean that you can then take up my overhead bin space for your crap. You figure it out. Put it under your seat. Put it under your husband’s seat. And while you are at it, how about you learn a lesson from this and pack lighter next time? Now give me my bin space back.
I am small, by American standards. I am five foot tall, and fairly petite. This does not mean I am not entitled to my personal space in my seat. Yes my legs are short, but luckily that means I have more room to stretch out. That does NOT give you permission to have some of my space. I once flew with a guy who sat with this legs spread apart, one leg under the seat in front of him, one leg under the seat in front of me! Really? The only person I share my space with is WS, thank you. Then there is the dreaded fight for the arm rest, and I know you all have had that battle. Let the jostling begin!!
Your electronics are no different than mine. If the crew says turn them off, turn them off. Show some respect to the crew and listen to them. They don’t make the rules, so just do it. Facebook does not care you are ready to take off, your adoring audience can wait until you land.
Okay. So you made it out of the plane without any air rage, thanks to that free bloody mary. Now you must collect your bag. I hate that the mosh pit around the carousel is three people deep. Please send one family representative to collect. Everyone else, step back please and allow some room to pull the bags off. I hate when I have elbowed my way to the front, go to grab my bag, and no one moves as I try to swing the bag off the belt. Now I know that your bag is not right there, because I am busy hoisting mine, right? So could you step back by two feet as I swing in order to keep yourself safe from my momentum? Like I said, I am short, it takes more umph for me to swing that bag. I promise after I get it down on the ground, I will be out of your way before your bag even makes a close appearance. Promise.
What about you? Any travel pet peeves you want to share?