Air Travel: No More White Gloves

One of my 10 favorite movies is The High and the Mighty.  I have also read the book by Ernest K. Gann.  If you like books about gritty men and great airplanes, Gann is your man.  The High and the Mighty uses the microcosm of a disabled airplane on its dark, lonely flight over the Pacific to show how people and their diverse histories shape the way they face imminent disaster. 

            The movie came out in 1954.  In those days, a movie was a movie.  No green screen graphics, no animation, just 2 hrs. and 27 mins. of writing, acting and cinematography.  John Wayne signed on to produce the movie with the idea of putting Spencer Tracy in that spot.  Tracy refused the part so Wayne stepped in—to the movie’s credit.   It is generally considered the prototype for all disaster films to come.  [In a coincidence that is almost mystical the actual DC-4 used in the making of the movie crashed on a Honolulu to San Francisco run ten years later.  An engine fire sent the plane into the Pacific and all nine people on board died.]

            I was eight years old when this movie was released.  I loved it.  I was enchanted by it.  But the oddest thing made an impression on me.  Evidently, women who flew on airplanes dressed to the nines.  Claire Trevor, Loraine Day, Jan Sterling.  Every woman who boarded that plane was in a dress (with a girdle underneath it—for a trans-Pacific flight for God’s sake!), heels, a hat, a matching purse, and, most important of all, white three-quarter length gloves.  I was a grubby little kid with a Tomboy attitude and the jeans to go with it—but I wanted to dress like those women.  I decided that you got to dress like that when you flew.  To me, the airline industry was white glove territory.  And I could not wait.

            I didn’t fly until fourteen years later when I went to St. Louis to interview for my first teaching job.  I wore a dress, heels and white gloves.  That was the first, last and only time I have dressed for airline travel.  The way things are now, I wear whatever is easiest to get on and off because a strip search is the only thing left on the TSA agenda.  But TSA is only trying to do their job.  My problem is the people you have to share the plane with.

            I realize anyone who flies has a story.  (I’d love to hear yours.)  A neighbor told me about a crowded flight (are there any other kind these days?) where a hefty mother and her equally beefed up pre-teen girl were seated next to her.   Just before take-off the girl announced she was hungry, so the mother reached in her bag, popped the top off a large can of pork and beans and handed them back to the girl with a plastic spoon and a hearty hi-ho-silver away. 

I can’t imagine what the rest of the flight was like.  But I do know I can top that story. 

            I was flying from Portland, Oregon to Kansas City, Missouri when the man beside me started chewing tobacco and expectorating into an empty soda can.  I begged (!!!!) the flight attendant to find me any other seat on the plane.  There was none; and guess what, they are no rules against chewing tobacco, just smoking!

            White gloves are passé.  Unfortunately, so is some of the civility that they exemplified.  As a result, I am dreading my next airplane flight. 

            I think I’ll buy some gloves and keep the faith.