"Come fly with me"

“…let’s float down to Peru”. Aided by a velvet voice, half 12-year old whisky and half Italian charm, Sinatra sold us an irresistible dream. What better than to take off to exotic destinations (Peru, anyone?) a cocktail in hand - one part glamour, one part sexy- topped with an olive. Flying became the perfect cool Martini, worthy of Ol’ Blue Eyes. From the dawn of the jet age the airlines used this heady mixture to instill the need to go anywhere on a whim, hoping that something may happen. The idea worked for a long time, like a charm. We were promised fast planes, new places, “bright light, big cities”, beaches for endless summers. And what happened en route? We got royal treatment, service and quality. Comfy seats, plenty of legroom, pillows, magazines, drinks and hot meals, the whole thing brought with a smile. This in Economy Class.

First Class was another ball game. Restaurant-size menus, and fare, served by waiters in white jackets and chefs in tall toques, caviar hors d’oeuvres, lobster medallions and roast beef brought to your seat on a cart out to be carved specially for you. The Sixties and Seventies forever known as the Golden Age of Air Travel.

From then it all went south.

The seats grew smaller, the rows tighter. Drinks disappeared, magazines and smiles followed, the food went to hell. Pretty soon all your got was Doritos or pizza. In First Class they were more subtle. Caviar went first. Followed shortly by lobsters and the cart; the waiter and the chef were definitely parked in some remote hangar. As tickets became cheaper, the need to turn the plane into a gigantic can of sardines, without anybody dying in the process, became a challenge. It worked pretty well, almost. Due to the lack of blood circulation, people starting dying of DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis) fortunately once the plane had landed. Out of sight, out of mind. All of the ensuing discomforts were quickly compensated by the modern day cure-all: streaming on demand for everyone. Thus taser-gunned passengers were willing to forget the cramping, the junk food, the disgusting toilets and their sore backs.

We were more or less settled in this new reality when 9/11 happens and adds a new form of torture: security checks. Man is a patient creature -woman more so- and we soon got used to “take off your belt, shoes (Aghh. Soooo yucky to walk on chewed gum and whatnot) your bracelet, take out your laptop” and still be X-rayed in front of everybody. The plane started to look like The Promised Land after so much rudeness.

And then we got Coronavirus and that was the end of that. When we next take to the sky it will be with face masks, no pillows, or blankets, or food or drinks, and no earphones. We’ll have to raise our hand to go to the bathroom.

A return to kindergarten minus the fun and games.