I recently traveled to Nicaragua on a 5-day whirlwind trip that was one of the highlights of this thing we call life. Boy, did I have a GOOD. TIME. More on that later.
But y’all – the AIRPORT SITUATION. As I said on my Instagram stories recently, I don’t know if it’s the mere fact that I hadn’t set foot in an airport in nearly 2 years or if things have actually gotten worse, but it was as though the rats had overtaken the city. And by rats, I mean me and my fellow travelers. And by the city, I mean the airport.
As the rats and I ran around from station to station, I was writing this very blog post in my head. It was a veritable trash pile of content. So today, I present to you, the musings of a young woman traveling alone with alllll the time in the world to observe the behavior of her fellow rats.
In no particular order:
This is an observation that applies to anywhere, but especially to an airport where tensions are running higher than Kim Zolciak’s wigs: please do not take FaceTime calls with NO HEADPHONES. People. The amount of fellow rats I saw doing this was staggering. In the terminals, in the food court, in the line waiting to board the plane. I heard conversations about schedules, conversations about prescriptions, YouTube videos being played about gothic themes in old Hollywood (interesting content, but I didn’t choose it at that moment). The exception to this rule is the precious Nicaraguan woman who sat next to me on the plane who talked to her grandchildren before takeoff (“Mi amor, mi amor, te quiero mi amor.”) – that lady could’ve attacked me with a brick and I would’ve thanked her, she was so cute. A pair of Steve Jobs’ headphones (the “dingle dongles,” as Heather McMahan refers to them) cost 15 American dollars. We beg you.
The second is a personal pet peeve of mine that I waiver between trying to be understanding about vs. boiling with impatience when dealing with. And that is people who create a traffic jam at the x-ray conveyor-belt. Here’s what these people want to do:
Go through the spin-y “hands above your head” stripper gun detector
Mosey to the VERY first available spot they can find on the conveyor-belt
Plant themselves there like a 100 year old oak
Spot their bag, scoot it to the edge
Proceed to BEGIN RE-CLOTHING THEMSELVES IN THE SAME SPOT
Leave the tray that held their stuff on the belt for someone else to deal with
Y’all, when I tell you this sends me into a fury. And listen – this is where my conflict lies. I’m not directing this toward people who clearly are not comfortable in this setting, and it’s obvious who’s who. If you’re someone who doesn’t fly very much, or are nervous and a little overwhelmed, sister, you. do. YOU. I’m talking about the folks who clearly do travel a lot, but for some reason have chosen to prioritize putting on their belt above ANYONE ELSE THERE/their needs/schedules/etc.. Below I have listed the proper protocol for conveyor-belt behavior that I would insist upon if I were queen:
Go through the spin-y thing
Walk with purpose, but not aggression, to a spot where you can see your bag but you aren’t in anyone else’s way
Upon seeing your bag or your tray of belongings, approach the belt and immediately REMOVE YOUR TRAY AND TAKE IT ELSEWHERE
Find a quiet bench (there’s always one nearby for just such use), park thyself, put your shoes and other items back on
RETURN THE TRAY to live with its friends
I politely asked a woman who was helming her family of 5 (all adults – this as an adult parents/siblings trip) if she wouldn’t mind moving her tray down the belt so I could get in there and she looked at me like I’d peeled the skin from her body. Why? Why. I ask you.
I admit I am a convert on this next one, but the truth is that people wrangling babies or toddlers on planes are almost* always working as hard as they can. If their kids are causing a problem, you can bet your bottom dollar that the parents are in a hell way worse than your spectator hell. Their hell is of their own creation, and that’s the worst kind. God bless caregivers sweating blood and trying to keep their children quiet and entertained on planes. I see you. I feel that struggle. *This does not apply to the mother who was on her phone, snapping at her children who were both playing wildly and slapping each other around in the customs line. That mom needs a drink, but her kids also need a time-out.
Your seat is for your feet. The area under my seat is for MY FEET. Not your feet. My feet. Your feet = your seat. (I’m talking about people sitting next to each other. Jordan thought I needed to clarify that I’m not talking about people putting their feat under my seat.)
I sat next to a woman who brought aboard the plane an airport-bought chicken Caesar salad which she bathed, lathered, and doused in a garlic Caesar dressing I can only describe as searing to the nostrils. Bringing a cute lil’ sammich on the plane to save some shekels on airport food (a brilliant move I wish I’d thought of) is one thing. Choosing to eat the world’s smelliest food next to a stranger and then (yes really) falling asleep so that your dressing-covered napkin drifts onto my lap is really a CHOICE.
The jumping up when the plane lands. What is that?? Don’t people know that all they’re doing is choosing to stand up for longer? I really feel like this is a recent development. I don’t remember this happening 10 years ago or so. But on every single flight (except the Avianca Air ones, wherein a flight attendant calmly announced which rows were allowed to disembark in multiples of 5 and the passengers complied with the reverence solemn kindergarteners who love their teacher), once the “ding” of the fasten seatbelt light went off, it was like there was a silent contest to see who could be the first out of their seat. Like, folks. We are all going to get off this plane. If you have a connection, I understand feeling rushed. And in that case, you’re the exception! But this was like…every last soul. I don’t get it.
I know some folks will be shocked I didn’t put people talking to me on the plane on here, but my fool-proof way to deal with that is by having about 5 minutes of polite conversation then saying, “Okay - I’m going to turn my brain off and listen to a podcast. See you on the other side!” One of my friends recently submitted that the best way to avoid plane small talk is to say, “I tend to get pretty nauseated on planes, and being quiet and focusing on other things is the only way I can keep it under control. If I talk, I vomit.” Effective!
And finally: don’t be rude to the TSA people, for two reasons, really. One: people are rude to them all the live long. If they’re rude to you, it’s probably because their soul is shriveling up like a little raisin and they’re scraping the barrel for the will to live. So just be extra kind and smile and follow instructions without complaint. But secondly, and more importantly, if you go up against TSA…guess who’s winning? Not you. And while you may create an entertaining respite of a spectacle for your fellow passengers to enjoy, you will never win the day. I watched a woman throw down with a TSA agent about whether or not her bag was regulation size to fit in overhead bins. Ma’am. MA’AM. Guess who knows the answer to that?! THE PERSON YOU’RE HOLLERING AT! In the famous words of Heather Dubrow:
One final word, and it’s a positive one:
If it’s at all within your budget, I cannot recommend hiring a travel agent highly enough. My wonderful friend Holly NeSmith (of Brownell Travel) helped me coordinate this international trip and made it so smooth, so wonderful, and so headache-free. It’s my opinion that it’s worth saving the extra money in advance to devote to someone who can make your life so, SO much easier on the back end. And bonus: travel agents get better fares, better seat options, and better hotel rates – so you actually might end up saving in the process. Not having to worry about anything made traveling alone to an international destination a breeze. Very grateful!
But to all you rule violators out there: be warned. We watchin’. What are your airport pet peeves? What’d I miss?