Yesterday I wrote of the confusion of a poor old lady, taken aback at the strange, demoralizing changes in the conscience of the world, in its politicians, even in many of its plain ordinary citizens. It seems as if we have lost our identities as Americans - period - tacked on the hyphenated determinants - and lost the magic that was America. Many of us are left to wander in the unknown now, hoping and praying that the true America will return and soon at that. However, upon reading headlines every morning, the hope grows dimmer and dimmer.
So what is left? The rest of life, and I hate to bust your bubbles, but the rest is not always so great and easy to enjoy. Take travel, which I used to love. The unknown in new places. The return to others that we loved - Hawai'i here we come - hopefully! Israel where we have wonderful family, where the past, the present and the future all merge. Where my Jewish studies come alive. Even the long flights allowed for meeting people, stuck together in the same aluminum tube.
Now, though, what a difference. Flying during COVID was a bit scary, but actually somewhat a pleasure. When else could you walk into the JETBLUE terminal in JFK and zip through it all in that echoing huge chamber? Where else did you have a plane for yourself, just a few hardy souls along with you? When else did your baggage come out so quickly? When did people act so kindly and patiently? The only time I remember that was after 9/11, stunned in the same way, but determined to carry on.
Yesterday was a shock to the system of this old gal. The airport was actually crowded. My previous flights this past year faded into the mist of time as we waited on line to check in, to hand over baggage, to go through security, to wear the mask but pull it off for security inspection and then the viewing, as I call it, and never does it fail. There I am getting patted down, due to knee replacement, a diabetic measuring gizmo, metal screws in one foot, and an ornery body that never fails to delight itself in making life a tad more difficult for me.
Finally, after walking down a concourse that get longer each time we fly, always having the most distant gate, there are no seats available unless one walks back half the concourse! Then the threats. We are fully loaded. No more seats. Standbyes, you are out of luck. People, check your carryons with us, as if we run out of room, which we will, we will have to take then away anyway. The horror of it all! But, a slight glimmer of hope, when I show them the contents of my carry on - all bottles and medical needs, they back away in awed horror, wishing to themselves never to be that person. Oh well, at least the carryon stays with me.
Now the seats. We paid extra for more leg room or comfort seats or whatever name the airline chooses to extort more money out of us. These are the same seats that once upon a time, during civilized times, what we all had, but evidently, the powers that be in the airline industry, have decided that our legs, our knees will survive the crunch, so they cut the space and then charge more to get it back. So lovely! Add to that the hip and back pain of the elderly, me included, factor in an oversized passenger squooshed into the seat beside you, with you answering so politely, lying through your teeth when he asks if you are okay if he lifts the arm up and overflows into your already tiny space.
Ah, snack time. Already pathetic prior to the pandemic, now we are denied a decent one, getting stale peanut or hard cookie of strange ingredients, never to be taken if you value intestinal peace, and then a drink poured into a cup, no cans, too expensive, and the constant reminders not to throw your litter on the floor or place it in the seat pocket. Do they think we are all little piggies living in homes disguised as sties? And what happened to recycling as now all the trash is thrown into one plastic trash bag? All the better to restart another pandemic era?
We old folks find travel a tad too strenuous and straining now. When we do this trek and do it all over again at the other end, after we stand impatiently for half an hour waiting to get off the plane, even as the person in front cannot seem to remember that we landed and he must get his bag out of the overhead compartment, there we stand, dancing away, from one foot to another, bodily needs calling to us, the airline having forbidden use of lavatories for half the flight and now we wait. Let me tell you, folks, that ain't easy for we old ones. So we stand there, hoping and praying that the embarrassment we all fear will not come true.
Oh dear Lord. Now the whole thing in reverse! What the hell did we sign up for? Why are we doing this? Why torture ourselves do? Aha! The grandchildren we have not seen, at least physically, for so long. Forget all the above. Not important. Get on those planes and get your share and more of those hugs and kisses. Plenty of time to kvetch when you are home again. And plenty of time and motivation to plan another - soon.
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