Nah’m Sayin? Singing the Praises of Air Travel
Like many Montreal students, I spent most of the summer out of town.
As the beginning of another semester rears its head, thousands flock back to Montreal from obscure hometowns and summertime ventures across the globe, and like me, many of them have chosen air travel as the safest, easiest method of return.
The thing is, I hadn’t been on a plane in years before this summer. The last time I had traversed the skies, I was just barely out of middle school, and flight was still magical, like how I imagine 1940s business travelers experienced it. Every part of the process—getting up early, venturing out to the airport, waving goodbye to my Mom from the loading area, actually being in the sky—it was all a beautiful, mystical process, and a lot of that initial majesty was still inside me as I took the 747 toward YUL to head to Los Angeles at the beginning of the month.
Three plane rides and four weeks later, and that childish wonder is gone.
Flying fucking sucks, y’all. It’s honestly just an awful travel experience, and it only seems to be getting worse. In the intervening years since I last flapped through the clouds, economy sizes have shrunk, prices have soared, and the amount of travelers has only increased.
It’s bad—in fact, here’s a diagram to break it down for you, comparing the newfangled consumer airplane with a good ol’ fashion Greyhound.
