What traveling by air is really like

Traveling is not for the faint hearted. While I can still distantly remember a time when heading to an airport was fun and light and usually accompanied by complimentary candy from my mom, my travels nowadays are a neat bundle of nerve-wrecking hopes and expectations. You hope your luggage will not be too heavy, too plump, too round or square, liquidy or whatnot. You hope the nice person at the metal detector won't choose you, out of all those currently on their merry way to their designated gate, to take your shoes off or to be man/womanhandled because you left a freakin' penny in your back pocket.

You expect your plane to leave on time, arrive on time, not have annoying/ill-smelling/disrespectful individuals sit next to you. You expect some sort of passenger drama because it's 2016 and people still don't turn their phones off or fasten their seatbelts. 

Shall I mention the number one passenger drama I've, and I'm sure you have too, experienced on EVERY single flight in Europe? As soon as the plane touches the tarmac, giddy Europeans spring up, frantically opening overhead compartments, searching for stuffed hand luggage twice as big as what they should be carrying, only to be left standing there like hurried idiots for an extra 15 minutes, some vacantly complaining as to why the damn door doesn't open while this silly airplane is still moving. Silly plane.

I've come to loathe traveling by plane. It now takes too long, I get checked way more than I feel comfortable to, the people have remained or even descended into a state of complete inadequacy and unawareness.

Traveling by plane from and in Europe doesn't involve having an experience. It's like catching the bus on Friday afternoon. You are not expecting warm nuts and plushy seats, it's cramped and unfortunate and you usually just want it to be over.

I've just landed. People are clapping. The guy driving the plane did his job. He deserves an encore request. Geez'

Kiss and Peace

Sarcastic Miss Sinister