flying – Life In A Word

Tripping on Trips

I should pay more attention to the actual cost of things. A movie ticket is fifteen dollars… until you add in concessions, preferred seating, and online processing. A dinner out can be reasonable… until you add in the taxes and tip. And rental car companies add so many fees to the base rate it’s like you’ve just been bumped to a new tax bracket. With that in mind let’s visit the airport today, or more specifically, getting to the airport.

Flying is expensive; always has been. But it’s easy to overlook the cost of the airport itself. Maybe you already know, a portion of the ticket you just bought goes to a landing fee (LF) – what the airline pays the airport for the privilege of pulling up to the gate. Maybe you also know another portion goes to a passenger facility charge (PFC), which supposedly goes to improvement projects in the name of airport safety and security.

I don’t trust PFCs. I think they really go to things like art exhibits, children’s play areas, pet relief areas, and smoking lounges. I mean really, how much less would that plane ticket be if all you had for an airport was a ticket counter, some security and restrooms, and a gate to board your plane?

The airport needs more than LF’s and PFC’s to pay its bills, of course. It’s the reason you pay so much for parking. I mean, think about it. Once the parking garage is built it requires little to operate. Mechanical systems and a few employee salaries yes, but certainly nothing in the neighborhood of say, $30/car/day. Which brings me to my current conundrum.

Most of you don’t have the following challenge. When you fly, you’re close enough to the airport to where you can get a ride from a friend or take mass transit. Me? I have a choice of three major airports here in the South… but each of them is a two to three hour drive from my house. Which begs the question, how does Dave get from his house to the airport and back for the least amount of money?

Simple but Expensive. Dave drives his car to the airport, parks, and drives his car back to his house after he gets back. Works for short trips but what if I’m gone for three weeks (starting next Saturday)? Parking at Atlanta-Hartsfield is $30/day (and that’s long-term). Throw in a tank of gas for the car and I’m north of $700 just for the airport to/from.
Simpler but Even More Expensive. This idea unexpectedly sent me in the wrong direction (financial, not travel). I put in for a quote for car and driver from a service right here in our little town. They got back to me almost immediately. Little did I know my car is a limo and my driver wears a tuxedo. My wife and I can “sit back and enjoy their ride” for $520 each way. Gratuity not included.
Slightly Less Expensive. Here’s a fun option/comparison. Drive to nearby (tiny) Augusta Regional Airport and fly to Atlanta. The two round trip tickets plus parking? Less than the cost of the drive and parking at Atlanta. If flights out of Augusta were ever on time I might actually consider it.
Clever But… Drive to nearby (tiny) Augusta Regional Airport, rent a car, drive to Atlanta, and return the car. Repeat the procedure in reverse when I return. No. The rental car companies want $300+ for Augusta to Atlanta. Multiply that by two to get back home.
By shuttle? “Cozy”
Less Expensive but More Cozy. We have shuttle services nearby; van companies where you share the ride to the airport with strangers. $200 gets us the trip to Atlanta and back. Okay, but now we’re driving our car just to get driven by a van just to get flown in a plane. Seems like a lot. And you leave when the shuttle service says you leave; not when you really want to.

Five solutions in and I still haven’t made it to Atlanta with any sense of fiscal satisfaction. I’m starting to think I should just skip the airplane and drive all the way to our destination. Or ride my bike with a pile of luggage on my back. But wait! There’s always 6. Entirely Less Expensive. Convince local son-in-law to drive us to Atlanta (and back). He can’t charge me more than the options I presented here, can he? Er, not if he doesn’t read this blog post first. I better call him… stat.

Flying Fur

When we take our aging dog for a drive, we go through a set routine to get him on board. Prop the back passenger door of the truck wide open and position the homemade ramp against the threshold. Get him into a running start so his momentum carries him up the ramp and onto the seat. And don’t forget the water bucket, a couple of large poop bags, and a leash that doubles as a lead line for a horse. With all that in mind I can’t imagine ever getting our St. Bernard onto an airplane.

You’re seeing furry friends on passenger laps more frequently these days (which creates a delightful image with a St. Bernard) so perhaps it’s no surprise to read about a commercial airline designed for “dog-first travel”. BARK Air completed its inaugural flight last week from New York City to Los Angeles, hosting six dogs, six owners, four flight crew, and BARK Air’s CEO. The ticket for each dog + owner cost an I-can’t-afford-it $6,000. One way.

BARK Air’s mantra is “… to deliver a white-paw experience” and my jaw didn’t drop much when I read into the details. Your dog only has to be leashed on takeoff and landing; otherwise he/she is free to romp around the plane and socialize with the other dogs and humans. Your dog receives treats, toys, and calming scents and sounds along the way. And “potty time” is anywhere – anywhere your dog wants it to be on the airplane. The flight crew is trained to be at the ready for clean-up after every “accident”. Would you want that job ?

I can see how BARK Air appeals to the one-percenters. For the money they can’t seem to spend fast enough, they and their dogs fly in style instead of on “people planes” with the rest of us commoners. Their dogs travel off-leash instead of in crates, which BARK Air speaks to repeatedly in its advertising. In fact, BARK Air’s CEO traveled in a dog crate the entire inaugural flight, a nod I suppose, to their “dog-first travel” slogan.

Pretending to be rich/famous, I decided to book our St. Bernard and me on one of BARK Air’s New York-Paris flights next month. I figured, why not take our boy to France, then on to Switzerland, where he could strap on a barrel of brandy, meet up with a bunch of other St. Bernards, and frolic in the Alpine snow?

The booking process was easier than I expected. A few clicks on the website and BARK Air was ready to accept the $6,000 for me and my St. Bernard to fly. Okay, so Paris isn’t one of their options yet (that’ll cost $8,000 when it is) but of the four flights in June, two were sold out and two were about half-full, so clearly dog lovers are going for the concept. And unlike hotels, BARK Air doesn’t have the weight limit my St. Bernard always exceeds.

Still, I just can’t picture it. My St. Bernard wouldn’t be coaxed, let alone be able to navigate that narrow steep ramp up onto the plane. His constant panting would drown out BARK Air’s calming sounds. His drool would be flung onto every other dog and passenger after he slurps from his water bucket. And no amount of BARK Air’s calming scents could cleanse his breath, which my wife and I still back away from after all these years.

We’re heading out on a two-week trip today, leaving our big boy behind for my daughter to take care of. Gonna miss him big-time, which is probably why BARK Air somewhat appeals to me, crazy-expensive as it is. But our St. Bernard’s in good hands while we’re gone, and he’ll do an adorably clumsy doggy dance when we walk back through our door. Yep, I’ll leave BARK Air’s dog-first seats to someone else. Maybe I’ll reconsider when they start flying to Switzerland.

I’ll be back in touch after our vacation.

Some content sourced from the NPR article, “Air travel has gone to the dogs – literally…”, and the BARK Air website.

Concourses or Golf Courses?

Whenever flying is a part of my travel plans, I wear my most comfortable pair of walking shoes. Long gone are the days of the coat-and-tie-to-fly dress code, in favor of sneakers (and jeans). My reason for rubber-soled kicks used to be, “What if we’re in some kind of accident and I need to get off in a hurry?” Today I go with a wholly different reason. The long, long walk I can expect from curb to concourse to airplane cabin simply demands something easy on the feet.

Here’s a startling comparison. If you play golf and skip the cart, you’re going to walk over four miles to finish your round. By almost the same token, if you’re connecting through Dallas-Ft. Worth or Atlanta and choose to walk from Terminal B to Terminal E, you’re going to walk over two miles. Add in the inevitable search for food, a stop or two at retail, and a visit to the restroom and you’re closer to three miles. And none of that includes the distance from the curb to the ticket counter, from the counter through security, and from your gate down the jetway to your seat on the plane.

Now for the bad news. Airports are only getting bigger, and not for the reasons you might think. Sure, more people fly than ever before, which adds more planes, more gates, and even more airports. But behind the scenes a couple of stronger forces are at work. One, airlines are shifting to larger aircraft, which translates to more space between parked planes. Two, airport parking revenue is down (thanks to Uber, Lyft, and more mass transit), which translates to the airport’s need to find revenue elsewhere. Where? Retail, bars, and restaurants.

From recent trips through airports, I’ve noticed the following. In Denver International, remodeled Concourse B is already labeled “Gates 1-100”, even though there aren’t a hundred gates. It’s a straight-line concourse and it’s only going to get longer. In Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jackson, the concourses are so long and narrow (and so crowded), that last gate is farther than you can see without binoculars. And in San Diego’s Lindbergh Field, when you’re processed into Terminal 2 from security, you can’t see a single gate, because you have to pass through a veritable shopping mall first.

In the ultimate insult to long walks to planes, some airports have left the moving walkways out of their concourse remodels. Those walkways discourage you from passing directly in front of the food and retail the airport so desperately needs you to patronize. And intentional or not, the airlines encourage these purchases by offering less food onboard. You, weary traveler, are a captive audience to more than one performer.

Let’s not forget the rental cars. Avis’s slogan is “We try harder”. Maybe it should be, “We try harder… to take more of your money“. I just reviewed my receipt from a recent San Diego rental for a full-size standard Kia sedan. Right there below the actual daily rate: “11.11% Concession Recovery Fee”; essentially the cost of doing business at the airport. Add in Vehicle License Recoup fee, Customer Facility Charge (another airport fee), California Tourism Fee, and a final flourish of “tax”, and the rate increased by 32%. All so I can walk further to get to my rental car?

An early chapter of my career was in airport planning. We’re the people who figure out how to get the planes from the runways to the taxiways to the gates without hitting each other. We also design the terminal buildings to include enough gates, concessions and restrooms (yeah, yeah, bring on the heat with that last item). Concourse design used to be “spoke and hub”, meaning you walked down the spoke to a circular boarding hub of several gates. It made the airplane taxiing a little trickier outside, but it significantly reduced a passenger’s walk to the gate. Today, airports no longer favor the design (er, traveler) because it reduces the square footage for concessions.

For those of you who live and die by your 10,000 steps, take heart; airports are helping you accomplish your daily goal. Phoenix Sky Harbor even disguised the long walk through the concourses by calling it a “Fitness Trail”. Be sure to allow enough time to get in a (seriously overpriced) shopping trip at all those concessions. But don’t forget, the airlines only allow one reasonably sized carry-on these days. Any others will cost you a checked bag fee… because the airport isn’t making enough money already.

Some content sourced from the CNN Business article, “Why you have to walk so far to your gate at the airport”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Boundaries

My wife and I took a “triangle trip” last week to see her family and then our son, flying from Augusta (GA) to Denver to Dallas, before returning to Augusta again. There’s nothing round-trip about an itinerary like that; just three one-way flights in a row. Like any other frolic in the friendly skies however, the journey served up easy fodder for a blog post. Hectic airports? Uncomfortable turbulence? Delayed flights? Yes, yes, and yes. But for today’s post, step up to the podium my fellow passengers, for it is you who have earned my writing wrath.

We’re in familiar territory here. I’ve written about my flying annoyances in Sitting in the Catbird Seat and First Class is now un-American (among others). But those musings focused on airplane seats and airplane sections. Today is about airplane occupants. Some of them are making the national headlines for their ridiculous antics. The others all seem to have ended up on my flights. Allow me to introduce my new “friends”.

On the flight from Augusta to Denver, a family of three filed into the row directly in front of us; wife on the aisle, young child in the middle, husband on the window. As they settled into their seats, the kiddo started rapid-firing questions: Dad, when are we going to take off? Mom, where do I put my jacket? Dad, I can’t get my seat belt on! Do we get snacks? Dad? Hey, DAD!!!

Kids are loud. I remember my first flight too, and the drive-you-crazy curiosity of a six year old. But I certainly didn’t expect the parents to answer in baby talk. Oh Stevie, the biggy wiggy pilot way up in the fwont of the plane decides when we get to fly up, up, up in the sky! Maybe if you’re a weely weely good boy he’ll give you a wittle pair of wings to put on your backpack!

Or how about… Now Stevie, yelling at Mr. Seat Belt isn’t very nice. Look, there’s a wittle buckle and a wittle other end! Let’s make it a game! See if you can snap those bad boys together!

This is why I never leave home without noise-cancelling headphones.

On the flight from Denver to Dallas, we had our choice of “uncomfortable”. First, we trudged to the back of the plane, in front of and back of a large group of men who a) chose to be loud and laughy, and b) chose to speak across the aisle/rows in Spanish (even though the smattering of English made it clear they were fluent in both). At first I thought my nearby amigos were just being a little obnoxious. But the longer they kept it up, the more I thought I probably ought to know what they’re saying just in case…

This is why I never leave home without Google Translate.

Also on Denver to Dallas, a small child several rows forward spent the whole flight wailing I want Mommy! I want Mommy! I want Mommy! We were too far behind to see or hear what her traveling companion was doing (if anything) to make her feel better, but eventually some kind of alarm went off in my head. What if this child was being abducted? After all we were heading to Dallas, which could be considered a gateway to the world for that sort of thing. I alerted the flight attendant, who assured me everything was okay. And it was. Turns out the child belonged to one very overwhelmed father, solo-parenting (or not) a total of three kids.

This is why I never leave home without my wife.

I haven’t even mentioned the usual annoyance. Since my wife prefers the window seat I graciously accept the middle. So why is it my neighbor in the aisle seat always takes the armrest? Doesn’t he or she realize I’m squeezed between two bodies? Over the last two decades the average airline seat width has shrunk from 18.5″ to 17″. If the passenger on either side of the middle takes the armrests that means I’m reduced to 15″, while each of them gets 18″.

This is why I never leave home without my elbows.

If you ever fly with me, I’m the guy with his head down reading his Kindle. I’ll be polite and, for the most part, leave you alone. But don’t be fooled. I’ll only have one eye on my e-reader. The other – and both ears – will be tuned into whatever you’re up to in your seat. Please respect your boundaries.

Changing Planes

My wife & I are boarding more flights than usual as we anticipate our upcoming relocation to South Carolina. “More than usual” deserves context I suppose, since so many of us skipped airports altogether the last couple of years. Flying is different now – some ways better, others not so much (and unquestionably more expensive). Regardless, I was happy to learn our favorite choice of airline before AND after the emergence of COVID just earned the label “world’s best” for 2021. Care to guess which one?

I already gave you the subtlest of hints in my blog title. With mathematics at least, the world’s best airline is also known as “an incremental change in a variable”, which makes its logo – the triangle – a fitting symbol. Its slogan is the uber-confident “world’s most trusted airline” but I prefer one of its older ones:

Maybe Delta Air Lines is your airline of choice too. If not, you’re wondering where your favorite ranks among the world’s best. I’ve never heard of Cirium (have you?) but the data-mining company spends its days converting 300 terabytes of aviation performance metrics into annual best-in-class rankings. (300 TB meant nothing to me until I crunched a few numbers. A ten-page Word doc is about 2 MB By my calcs Cirium is sorting through five million pages of data. I’d say their rankings are legit, wouldn’t you?)

Let’s end the suspense. Here are the top ten airlines measured by “operational performance”, for 2021:

Delta (“Platinum Award” winner)
Alaska
American
United
Spirit
Frontier
Southwest
JetBlue
Air Canada
Allegiant

Delta should put a lot of stock in this win, and not just because 9 of its 10 aircraft arrived on time in 2021 (10% better than second-place Alaska). It’s more about the impact of the passenger experience to the result. Is the boarding process efficient? Is the flight crew rested and available? Is the aircraft properly maintained? How is baggage handled? How are unruly passengers dealt with (a more recent trend)? Every one of these details number-crunches to a measure of on-time arrivals. And no one does it better than Delta.

I may be biased but my own experiences seem to back up the numbers. My wife & I have flown Delta several times since 2019 (including a trip to Europe) and every one of those journeys met or surpassed our expectations. I’m not saying Delta goes over the top to gain customer loyalty (though a warm chocolate-chip cookie would help). They simply do what I expect. Arrive on time and make the journey as pleasant and efficient as possible. Is that too much to ask?

Sadly, my affection for Delta is bolstered by my dissatisfaction with its competitors. I’m surprised to see American and United make the top five. My family and I have had several lousy experiences with American, including delayed or canceled flights and could-care-less customer service agents. Meanwhile, United may know how to arrive on time, but their coach seats should be labeled “cattle class” (not unlike Spirit and Frontier). Drop down the tray table and open your laptop. I challenge you to type comfortably.

Southwest could’ve been higher in Cirium’s rankings but I’m sure their logistical issues last year contributed to the number. Scores of their canceled flights were attributed to “weather challenges” during an unprecedented upheaval in the workforce. I’ll forgive the bald-faced excuse. When Southwest is running on “all engines” their brand of customer service is second to none – which keeps me coming back for more.

From my days in corporate America, I remember an equilateral triangle as the symbol of a successful company, giving balance to customers, employees, and shareholders. Looks a lot like the Delta logo, doesn’t it? More than just a nod to the Greek letter (Delta) or a throwback to its origins in the Mississippi (“Delta”, that is). Even the dictionary definition of delta belongs in the conversation. Positive change befits operational excellence.

If my wife & I were relocating to Salt Lake City or Atlanta (or one of Delta’s other hubs), we’d be changing planes and flying more often with the “triangle”. Just this week my wife enjoyed another Delta flight she described as “perfect except for a few inconsiderate passengers” (which seems to be the norm these days). Delta celebrates one hundred years of passenger flights in 2029 so it’s safe to say they’re guided by experience. The Cirium ranking is just a numbers-crunching confirmation of what I already know. Delta is ready when I am. Or, to put it mathematically, Δ = (S)atisfaction + (L)oyalty.

Some content sourced from the CNN Travel article, “The world’s best-performing airline has been revealed”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

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Lego Grand Piano – Update #18

(Read about how this project got started in Let’s Make Music!)

Today’s section of the symphony could’ve, maybe should’ve used a stand-in pianist. Bag #18 – of 21 bags of pieces – assembled a little more than half of the piano’s top lid. I show the structure on its side in the first photo because that’s how I built it, from the ground, er… desk up. I imagined myself as a tiny mason, building a wall brick-by-little-brick, working right-to-left, then over to the right again. You – my faithful reader – could’ve handled this part of the construction easily. In Lego terms, it’s a wall made with various lengths of rectangle pieces. That’s it.

Not a wall, but part of the hinging piano lid.

Know what I love about this adventure? (which is rapidly coming to a close!) You don’t always see what’s coming. I knew I was building the top lid, but it was hard to see how it fit the piano until I set it on its side when I was done (second photo). More to my point, I have three bags of pieces remaining. One is the remainder of the piano lid. One is the free-standing bench for the pianist. Which leaves… you see? I still have no idea what’s coming.

Running Build Time: 13.0 hours. Musical accompaniment: Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique. Leftover pieces: None!

The top lid rests in its future location.

Conductor’s Note: The story behind Louis-Hector Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique is more interesting than the piece itself (seriously). At the somewhat tender age of 24, Berlioz fell in love with an Irish Shakespearean actress, who kept him at bay until she finally agreed to be his – seven years later. Maybe the length of Berlioz’s pursuit extinguished the flame because the romance didn’t last. But Berlioz wasn’t left empty-handed. He composed the Symphonie fantastique to depict the idealized version of his Irish lover. I just didn’t find his music fantastique.

Small Fly

Whenever we travel to our favorite little town in South Carolina, we have the option of a connecting flight through Dallas/Fort Worth (DFW) or Atlanta (ATL) to get there. DFW is the fourth-busiest airport in the world, with five terminals, seven runways, and 164 gates. The airport property covers twenty-seven square Texas miles, with its own zip code, police, and fire departments. Meanwhile, ATL is merely the busiest airport in the world, hosting 300,000 passengers and 60,000 workers every day. One of ATL’s runways is so long they hold an annual 5k running race on it. DFW and ATL are mega-ports and can be mega-stressful to pass through, which is why landing in little Augusta, Georgia, our final flying destination, is like a breath of small-town fresh air.

Augusta Regional Airport (“…at Bush Field”, or simply “AGS”) is the smallest airport in the world. Okay, that’s not even close to true (especially if you consider landing strips in cornfields) but it sure feels like it. AGS sits quietly on the banks of the Savannah River, just west of the Georgia state line. It’s served by the smallest aircraft of Delta and American. Its tiny terminal building is shaped like a capital “T”, with two little ticket counters at the top, followed by a quick stroll down the middle to a boarding lounge the size of an oversized living room. If you average out the flight schedule, AGS has a single plane touching down every two hours. They should hire the Augusta High School marching band to welcome each landing (“Go Orioles!”)

The first time I realized AGS was big-time-small was after a late landing on a weekday night. Walking down the brief concourse the airport was noticeably dark. The rental car counters were already shuttered for the night. At baggage claim, the single attendant (literally, the only employee in the building) announced bags would be hand-delivered to the curb instead of circulating on the belt. Yep, they just lined ’em all up by the waiting cars.

My other AGS big-time-small moment was the first time I saw the parking lot (free for 30 min, $8/day). Half the lot was given over to rental cars. Think about the number of rental car spaces you need for an airport where just a handful of planes land each day. Now double the number. That’s the size of Augusta Regional’s parking lot.

The design of AGS, boasting one-story red brick, proud white columns, and suburban landscaping, reminds me of the clubhouse of a golf course. In fact, Augusta Regional bears the nickname “The Country Club Airport”, entirely fitting since The Masters professional golf tournament is held every April just twelve miles from its runways.

Lounge outside (past security) before you board…

AGS reminds me of my first small airport experience back when I was a freshman in college. Flying from Los Angeles (LAX – second-busiest in the U.S.), I deplaned in a modest midwestern town, and for the first time ever descended stairs onto the outside tarmac instead of through a jetway to the terminal. I happened to be the first passenger off the plane, which meant leading a line of people to the glass doors of the boarding lounge. Only I couldn’t open the glass doors. They wouldn’t “push” despite my best efforts. Several greeters on the other side of the glass (this was pre-9/11) gestured to “pull” instead of “push”. Took me just a little too long to figure that out. Believe I heard the words “city boy” as I was on my way to baggage claim.

When we landed in Augusta most recently, we were the last flight of the night. As we sat on the park-like benches at the curb waiting for our daughter to pick us up, I watched one of the few remaining employees bring in the trash cans and turn out the lights. She made sure we had a ride, then locked the terminal building doors. Only one other passenger was waiting to be picked up. It was a little strange to be among the last couple of people on the property. I mean, most airports don’t even close.

At Dallas/Fort Worth, you can rent private rooms at the “Minute Suites” for naps or freshening up right there in the airport terminal. There’s even a full-service spa. In Atlanta you’ll find a Starbucks in six of the seven airport concourses. Augusta Regional? How about a soft pretzel at the one concession stand, or an overpriced unofficial souvenir from The Masters? Doesn’t matter. You can show up less than an hour before your departure, and you can take in the take-offs from a comfy rocking chair. Yep, this little small-fly is a pretty sweet landing pad.

Some content sourced from the Augusta Regional Airport website.

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Lego Grand Piano – Update #8

(Read about how this project got started in Let’s Make Music!)

Our instrument really came together this week, as you’ll see in the second photo. Bag #8 – of 21 bags of pieces – not only connected both large pieces, but also added strings! We now have enough of the black frame in place to where our little gem is finally starting to look like a piano.

I went with Haydn’s “Surprise Symphony” today because I completed this section in the early morning hours and needed the famous jolt the orchestra gives you at the end of an otherwise piano movement. (Yes, “piano” can be an adjective). Haydn was famous for these little “jokes”, placed randomly the middle of his compositions.

Running Build Time: 6.75 hours. Musical accompaniment: Haydn’s Symphony No. 94 in G Major. Leftover pieces: 4 (including a couple of piano strings).

Conductor’s Note: We’re getting very close to boxing in the complex mechanics of the instrument… and I’m nervous. We have a couple “loose ends” in there which must somehow attach so they’ll do something productive (like make music). Hoping next week’s Bag #9 addresses this concern.

Flight of the Humble Bee

Travelling to faraway places – weeks at a time – sprouts a dual bloom of stress and excitement. The stress buds from the interruption of life at home; the need to keep things clicking and intact while away. The excitement buds from the unknown of what lies ahead; the anticipation of new sights and experiences. My keyboard tap-tap-tappings come from one of those faraway places today; Northern Europe, but it’s not my destination I’m keen to talk about. Instead I’m drifting a few days back to the start of the trip, to my outbound flight from Denver to New York. There, in a moment of rarefied air, I mingled for a few hours as a first-class passenger.

First Class. You know – the initial several rows on the airplane, dripping with white tablecloths, champagne flutes, and fluffy pillows. The wider, more comfortable seats. The dedicated flight attendant. Complimentary drinks, WiFi, movies, and magazines. Sounds so clean and expensive, with an almost regal attitude about it, don’t you think?

But what if I said, nein? What if I told you my first-class experience rated – yes – better than coach, but only with the slightest of differences? Wouldn’t you want to know why?

For starters, let’s deplane and go back to the terminal. A first-class ticket entitles you to a dedicated always-short line at the check-in counter. You already know that. Me, I missed that line. Whether the signage was on its morning break, or the harshly voiced commandant-of-the-queue distracted me with her “line up he-ah!”, or “print your boarding pass he-ah!”, or “do not leave your luggage he-ah!” (add German accent), I missed first-class check-in. Me and the “coachies” dawdled together in the snaky commoner line for a good forty-five minutes instead.

Fast-forward to the wait at the gate. My wife shrewdly pointed out the “Delta Club”, which I assumed was an exclusive members-only hideaway. Turns out, a business-class international ticket (i.e. the only reason I got first-class on the domestic leg) gets you and I access to the Club. Through a set of dark, imposing doors, past a couple of guards (who really do “guard”), we were treated to a light-but-no-cost breakfast buffet, comfortable chairs and tables, and blissful quiet (except for the gent next to me with the persistent cough). I hereby admit, the Delta Club was a sweet perk of first-class, if only to hang with less rats in the airport maze.

When a flight is even slightly delayed, and the passengers have nowhere to escape to outside of the boarding lounge, the ensuing chaos is a predictable study in human nature. No matter what kind of ticket you hold, “pre-boards” walk the plank first (defined as anyone needing extra time to get to their seat). After, Delta welcomes a mix of military, first-class (me!), and “Sky Priority” frequent flyers. But here’s the thing about rats. The line to board the plane is hopelessly windy and long, snaking between the walls of the concourse and the rows of boarding lounge seats. Try pushing to the front of the line – first-class ticket frantically waved above your head – when you’ve been standing in the back. Not-so-nice stares from other rats.

After taking my seat in 2a (or spoken with attitude, the second row), the complimentary glass of orange juice or champagne (or both please – mimosa!)… never materialized. Then I realized why. The logistics of serving drinks in first-class is virtually impossible when all the coachies board down the same aisle. No, this was not one of those planes where you “turn left” for first-class and “turn right” for everything else. One door. One aisle. All rats in the same maze after all.

<Cue disconsolate, sad music – solo violin or muted cello. First-class is dying on the vine.>

How about breakfast? First-class meals are pre-ordered – on-line. That’s cool. Choose from blended steel-cut oats/quinoa with fruit, or an egg/cheese souffle with chicken sausage. My wife chose one and I chose the other – borderline-healthy airplane food requiring forks and knives! Not only that (insert smirk), turbulence prevented the flight attendants from serving anything in the main cabin, not even so much as a glass of water. Hope y’all bought some pre-packaged self-serve snacks before you boarded. Ha!

But there it is. Attitude. Just when I think I can comfortably digest my first-class privilege; attitude rears its ugly head. Suddenly the passengers in row five and beyond are – ahem – somehow lesser. Not right. Time to pull my head out of – ahem – the clouds, and drift back down to reality. First-class may start out a little sweet, but the aftertaste can be a little bitter. Better to take my rightful place with the coachies from now on.

That’s (Not) the Spirit!

In the latest Skytrax airline review, Spirit Airlines received an overall rating of 3 (out of 10). Not so good, eh? I’d love to debate that grade with those who fly Spirit. But what if those travelers also learned Spirit received a mere 4 for “value for money”. Value for money? This is an airline that touts itself as “the leading ultra-low cost carrier in the United States”! Have we been duped?

One of my family members flew Spirit earlier this week, and from her I learned the extent to which a business model can go “no frills”. I thought Spirit simply attached a fee to everything outside of the ticket itself. It’s more convoluted than that. Best example: Spirit’s checked bag fee starts at $30 (paid at time of booking), increases to $35 (before online check-in), then to $40 (during online check-in), then to $50 (at ticket counter), and summits at $100 (at gate). Pack carefully too, because an “overweight bag” begins at forty pounds (not fifty), and the fee-on-top-of-the-baggage-fee for overweight begins at $25.

Here are some other gotchas with Spirit; enough to consider your nearest emergency exit. Choosing a seat yourself runs $50 and up (not so unusual with the airlines these days). Carry-on bags that can’t be jammed under your seat cost you $55. Boarding passes are $2 if printed at a kiosk; $10 if printed by an agent (must be premium-weight paper, huh?) Unaccompanied minors are an extra $100 each way. Finally, the drink you’ll need to survive this a-la-carte menu starts at $3, even if it’s plain ol’ water. And don’t forget to press the flight attendant button or your beverage will never, ever arrive.

All of the above might read as criticism, but it’s apparent the Spirit model works for enough passengers to keep their planes in the air. If you choose to fly Spirit you are – ideally -a person traveling alone, carrying only one bite-sized piece of luggage, and you don’t mind where or with whom you sit on the plane. You also don’t care about comfort, because Spirit proudly reduces legroom to create “more seats for less airfare”.

I waged a little fares-war to see how Spirit’s “bare fare” stacks up to the competition. I chose five of Spirit’s larger-city destinations and compared those fares to the next lowest carrier. Here’s what you pay if you book a one-week round-trip flight from Denver starting April 15th:

Chicago – Spirit: $108, Next Lowest: $117
Atlanta – Lowest: $167, Spirit: $270
Dallas – Spirit: $78, Next Lowest: $86
Phoenix – Lowest: $130, Spirit: $150
Los Angeles – Spirit: $91, Next Lowest: $138

Percentage-wise, the best deal is to Los Angeles, where you only pay 65% to Spirit vs. the next lowest. But are you going to fly all the way to the coast with a bag that fits under your seat? Not likely, so add another $55. Whoops – Spirit is no longer the lowest-cost option.

I’m not necessarily throwing Spirit under the bus here (even though a recent DOT report showed they had the highest number of complaints per-passenger among major U.S. airlines). I’m not saying they don’t care about you the customer (even though my sister-in-law took three hours and five agents/supervisors/managers to get her storm-delayed flight re-booked). I’m not even saying Spirit doesn’t run its business above board (even though the FAA recently slapped them with a $375,000 penalty for false advertising and refusal to reimburse customers).

What I am saying is do the math and know what you’re paying for. Don’t be duped.

I’ll conclude with a bit of irony. Three years ago my overnight flight to Florida was cancelled because I couldn’t connect through Houston on account of bad weather. But I simply had to get to Florida by the next morning. After exhausting all options the counter agent informed me my only option was out of another airport an hour’s drive to the north, and the only option out of that airport was… Spirit. And I’ll be damned if Spirit didn’t get me to Florida the next morning – right on time. So there you have it – I’m a fan of Spirit! Er, that is, after exhausting all other options.