If you’ve ever been on an airplane, you’re probably familiar with the tight spaces and questionable bags of peanuts that accompany economy seating. As a person with relatively long legs, I’m no stranger to the struggle of settling into uncomfortable positions on flights. This discomfort is agitated by the knowledge that, behind a set of musty curtains, there’s a cabin of people enjoying shrimp cocktails and two armrests while relaxing in their cushioned lounge chairs.
I’ve been on four flights in the past week and after sitting for hours with cramped calves and numb kneecaps, I’ve devised this list of 12 ways to make your flight a first class experience:
1. Buy a First Class ticket.
2-12. Revel in your superiority and enjoy the fancy food, rotating chairs and VIP bathrooms.
There really doesn’t seem to be any other way. Unless, by some stroke of luck, the flight attendant gives you an upgrade, most of us Average Annies and Joes don’t have the disposable income to purchase one seat that takes up the space of four.
Maybe I’m blinded by my jealousy, but I think if we did away with first class, the world of air travel would be a better place. On average, we would have more legroom and overhead item space, and everybody would have another bathroom to dirty up. We’d be creating our own little slice of Heaven. Unfortunately, I fear this classless seat system might smell so strongly of socialism that it wouldn’t fly in America. Well, it would fly. It’d have to fly, especially over America—that’s the point of an airplane. What I’m saying is that it wouldn’t fly.
There is, however, an issue that’s even more damaging to our flying experience than the first/economy class divide: unspoken airplane etiquette.
I thought it was common knowledge that, on an airplane, you must mind your own business, stay as quiet as possible, hold in your gas and only leave your seat when absolutely necessary. During my week of flying, however, I learned that many people either ignore or are unaware of this protocol.
On one flight, a guy sitting behind me acted as though it was his mission to introduce himself and share his life story with the entire plane. He grabbed the attention of the man sitting next to me by shouting, “Hey, sir! Hey, sir!” until he turned around, proceeding to ask the man if he could find out what movie a kid two rows ahead was watching. (It was "Kingsman: The Secret Service.") He later poked me on the shoulder and used our shared brand of shoes (Nike) to spark a conversation about how he was on his way to visit his girlfriend’s grandparents and it was only his second time flying. Perhaps he was genuinely curious and outgoing, or maybe the shots of whisky were clouding his judgment. Either way, he upset the system and succeeded in frustrating everybody around him.
Halfway through a recent 10-hour flight from Los Angeles to London, an Irish lady in an adjacent seat (who had spent the previous hour looking for her shoe) broke the rule of silence by leaning in and asking if I wanted a mint. While this may seem kindhearted, it put me in an awkward position. I instinctively said, “No, thank you, I’m alright,” but as the words left my mouth, I caught a whiff of my breath and immediately regretted refusing her offer. I wanted to say, “Actually, never mind, I would love a mint,” but the moment had passed and she was already in the process of returning the mints to her bag. I was now aware that I needed to fix my halitosis, but I couldn’t reach for my pack of gum seconds after refusing her perfectly fine mints. I decided to wait it out. When morning came around, I figured enough time had passed and that it was now ok for me to consume something minty. As I pulled out my gum, I was confronted with a new problem: did she expect me to return the offer? Had I unconsciously entered into some sort of undeclared partnership that required us to share all our minty possessions? I didn’t want to give her my gum, not just because I only had a few sticks left, but because it was melty and old, the kind of gum you find foil in while chewing. She wouldn’t want it anyway. I realized after a few minutes that I had been staring blankly at the lady with my hand stuck in my backpack, so I quickly picked out a stick and shoved the pack away. Afterwards, she turned her head and threw a look that made it clear our bond was broken. I had betrayed her.
It seems that everybody has their own definition of acceptable airplane behavior, and quite frankly, I can’t keep up with it. The year is 2015, people. It is time for us to right this wrong. We need to put an organized set of etiquette rules in bold print on the front, back, and middle of all airplane pamphlets and have flight attendants act out common examples of expected social interactions. I want to know what I’m supposed to do if somebody falls asleep on my shoulder or if I’m sitting next to young children and I want to watch "Game of Thrones." Let’s be real, in a crisis, I’m not worried about the location of the engine or the different parts to the Boeing wing, I want to know whether or not taking a mint from a lady binds me to helping her put on an oxygen mask.
