I used to love flying. I don't anymore. It's not the security checks, although I think we have a lot of hassle without an equal level of safety. It's not the cost, although it is too high. It's not the extra fees, although I should be able to bring a suitcase on any long flight.
I flew back from New York last week. I flew in a commuter jet. It's not the smallest plane in which I have flown. Sean and I accompanied friends, Randi and Lewis, while Lewis was getting his pilot's license. It was pre-9/11, and we buzzed the Statue of Liberty and the Seminary. We had a great time. It's not the size of the plane that bothers me.
I used to fly frequently. It never bothered me. I flew back and forth to Boston all through university. I flew to Europe twice in high school. I flew multiple times to California and to Israel. I flew twice a year from Hawaii to the mainland and back while we lived there. Flying never bothered me.
However, over the past ten years my love of flying has diminished. Part if it is sheer neurosis. I worry about what will happen if the plane crashes. I'm not worried about me. I'm worried for my children. I think about how they will feel, and what I will miss. It doesn't matter that my intellectual self knows that flying is safe. I think the second part is the size of the planes. More and more I've been flying on commuter jets. They are much likely to be grounded for bad weather, or prevented from landing. Once, when I flew to Boston, we circled the city for a couple of hours, and flew back to Toronto. High winds had caused a small plane to roll off a runway, and the winds blowing across the other runway were too high for us to land. Invariably, when I fly in a commuter jet the flight will be delayed. Out of my last 17 flights, only one took off on time, and that was still twenty minutes late. Small planes also experience turbulence on a different level. When I flew home last week a young boy, maybe six years old, sat in front of me. As the plane rocked and bounced he said, "It's scary. I'm scared." He was right. It was scary. I've felt my stomach drop thousands of feet on most of the flights I've taken in the past few years. More and more my flights have bounced their way from air current to air current, shaking so badly I couldn't even read my book. I have never taken a flight without reciting t'fillat haderekh (the traveler's prayer), but now, on numerous occasions, I find myself reciting Shema or Psalm 23.
I miss the luxury of a large plane, of dressing for travel, having a real meal, and a smooth flight. I miss being treated like a human instead of cattle. And I miss enjoying travel instead of dreading it.
As we move to smaller and smaller planes, more expensive flights, and what feels like price gouging I wonder if humans were truly meant to fly.
