Reliably Unreliable
On my third trip to Oregon since September, I’ve begun to get the hang of unpredictable air travel. My departure from XNA, heading to Denver, was (again) delayed. Passengers were buckled in their seats ready for take-off, but the plane sat on the tarmac wasting precious minutes required for catching connecting fights. The captain explained the holdup was due to excessive traffic flying into Denver.
… Huh?
I don’t understand how there can suddenly be “too much traffic in Denver.” I thought flights were all scheduled ahead of time. That take-offs and landings were carefully slotted on a master schedule to avoid traffic jams. It’s not like everybody on my fight spontaneously decided to fly to Colorado at the last minute, thereby creating congestion in the air.
The delay at XNA catapults me into an across-the-concourse dash in Denver in effort to catch my connecting fight to Eugene. But when I arrive at the designated gate, I find people camped out on benches, asleep under full length blankets—using their carry-on luggage for pillows. Looks like they’ve been there for days. Doesn’t bode well.
This time my plane is delayed due to lack of crew. There is a pilot—but no flight attendants. When schools are short of teachers, often any warm bodies will do. At the moment, I’m glad the standards for air travel are higher than for classrooms (although I deeply wish teachers, who train for years and work their tails off, earned as much respect).
This delay is a couple of hours. When three flight attendants finally arrive, the stranded crowd claps and cheers. Like a drunken party. I’m beginning to understand all this discombobulation is the new normal. Air travel is a mess.
And maybe it should be. I am not an environmental scientist, but from what I gather, air travel is not the greatest thing for the planet. Trains are reportedly less toxic. And maybe electric cars will ease the strain on mother earth, if we can ever make them commonplace. I don’t have enough data for a solid opinion.
But I do have reason to favor trains over other modes of travel. I’ve journeyed a great deal by rail. Whether or not it’s better for the planet, it’s better for the soul. People on trains commune with one another—share a meal in the dining car, or a card game in the club car. If you’re unhappy with your seat mate, you can get up and move around. Some trains have observation cars: You walk up a short flight of stairs and sit in a dome of windows to watch the countryside go by. The trip itself is relaxing. The brain slows. Anxiety eases.
Air travel is not conducive to social interaction. One is stuck in an assigned seat, usually next to people who have sealed themselves off with earbuds and a screen device. Everyone is in a hurry to maximize distance traveled per minute—a goal now thwarted by reliably unreliable schedules.
But alas, train-travel is not always handy. If you live in Carroll County, the nearest train station is in Little Rock. However, given that flight delay is seemingly standard, and sometimes lengthy, maybe a drive to Little Rock isn’t that bad after all.
I came to Oregon to entertain my Australian daughter’s in-laws, who will be visiting our west coast from Down Under. Unless they get stuck sleeping in an airport.
I’m grateful my Arkansas daughter is taking care of things back home. Nobody knows when my flight back to XNA will arrive.