I love visiting different cities but I can’t stand planes. Like, I absolutely adore and am fascinated by airports, yet getting into those massive flying vehicles is a special form of punishment I despise. From the moment you walk through the gate into the aircraft and smell that nauseating stale stench of humans-cramped-in-a-tight-space-that-seriously-lacks-oxygen, the transportation experience tends to just go more downhill from there.
Because then you’re faced with tiny seats (seriously, why do they keep diminishing in size?), the lack of food, the passive-aggressive flight attendants with their arbitrary agendas (We seldom serve peanuts but we’ll definitely have them on board if someone allergic is traveling — what!), and the 90 percent guarantee that you’ll get sick before you land (if you’re me) from breathing everyone else’s germs. And these are just some of the amazing perks you can look forward to next time you hit the friendly skies.
And the airlines and staff all have to be fully aware of what a strange concept it is to propel oneself in the air across thousands of miles with other strangers, because, I mean, they spend several hours a week facilitating journeys, and are usually quite congenial and pleasant-sounding when they get on the loud speaker.