Business In Washington - Business Operations Consulting

We’ve had a lot to say recently about the lousy service one gets whenever one is compelled (or just crazy enough) to board a plane and fly somewhere.  The latest symbol of the demise of the “friendly skies” was the announcement by one airline that they would no longer offer peanuts to the passengers.

No peanuts.  How low can you go?

There was a fabulous article in The Seattle Times this past Sunday, entitled, “Once upon a time, the skies really were friendly.”  Did you read it?  Do take a look if you can.  Those of our readers who will admit to a certain maturity (note, I didn’t say old!) will relate to some of the stories.  To you young whippersnappers, it will seem like a fairy tale.

Like all good fairy tales, this one begins:  “Once upon a time, air travel was exciting and fun.”  Hard to believe?  Check out the examples offered by Times readers.

Yes, I am mature, and I do relate.  My very first plane flight was taken as a young child.  My brave mother, single, with two elementary-school-aged children, decided to visit relatives in Illinois.  Thinking of the trip as a potential experience and “teachable moment”, she eschewed the car and decided to use a combination of train and plane travel. 

We embarked on a flight from Detroit to Chicago.  My brother and I were beside ourselves with excitement!  We got to peek in the cockpit and meet the pilot.  The stewardesses (all women in those days and all slender and pretty) were incredibly nice to us.  Mother, less sanguine, was armed with toys to entertain us and Dramamine to ensure health, since I was prone to motion sickness.

We were buckled into a window and middle seat, with Mother on the aisle.  Probably wanted to make sure we couldn’t escape.  Excitement reigned.  We took off and competed for the view from the window.  How amazing to two little kids!  People below looked like ants.  Once fully airborne, we were surrounded by fluffy white clouds, marshmellows to us.  Was God out there?

After a while, things got more interesting, for the adults.  We hit some wind.  Instead of a smooth flight (”Feels like you are sitting in your living room!”), we were suddenly on a roller coaster.  We would go up, hover a moment, then plunge down, leaving our stomachs behind.  My brother and I loved it!  We squealed with delight.  Mother took the Dramamine.

We landed in Chicago on time, 5 mintes earlier than we took off due to the change in time zone.  This was yet another wonder to me and my brother.  We talked about it for weeks.  We were ushered off the plane, with apologies from the flight crew about the roller coaster.  (What was to apologize for?  We’d had a ball!)

By contrast, our train ride from Chicago to Peoria was a drag.  It was slow, noisy, and dirty.  We hated it.  This was the start of a love affair with flying.

In the late 1950’s when I started flying (yes, I am that old), it was still new enough to be special.  We still ran out of the house to look when someone hollered about an airplane overhead.  (This stopped when the flight paths for Detroit Metro were rerouted over our house.)  Parents took their kids to airports just to watch the planes take off and land.  We dressed up for this.  People dressed up to travel, especially when they flew.  There was a glamour and an excitement to air travel in those days.  And the service fit the mood perfectly.

Given the fact that airline travel is now SOP for a large percentage of Americans, it is natural that the romance of it would be gone.  But is it really necessary for the pleasant service to follow suit?  I think air travel can be spartan without being so de-humanizing.  And good service can go a long way toward accomplishing that.

Next time I decide to reminisce, perhaps I’ll tell you about my very first business trip.  What flying stories do you have?  Please share them!