Flying Ugly

I finally understand the horrid reputation that flying has earned. As if the excruciating amount of time spent waiting, attitudes of flight staff, and ferocious smells of the vile food court were not enough, I counted exactly 5 people on a flight of about 50 dressed decently enough to leave the house.

Granted I haven't flown in several years (the life of a law student does not afford one the time or funds for travel to anywhere other than a parent's house on Long Island for spring break) but I don't remember the gloom of one's bedroom following them to the airport from my previous experience. Even when I was in college and jetting off to such fabulous destinations as Cancun at the retched hour of 6 am, my friends and I managed coordinating ensembles (consisting mainly of sorority sweatshirts, polo shirts, and jeans, but they at least matched). Somewhere between my last vacation about 5 years ago and my honeymoon last week, the sloth movement seems to have moved in and swallowed the population whole.

I saw a plethora of shame. Ugg boots were rampant, as were spandex, actual pajama pants (the plaid flannel kind that I was unaware people still wore past the age of 21), oversize sweatshirts (that could better be described as house coats), and fanny packs. (We won't discuss fanny packs. That is an entire blog in and of itself. My Husband looked immediately at my face when the first one waddled by us, and my expression was sufficient for comment on the matter.) These items may not sound as offensive as I found them to be, but keep in mind the mean age of these travelers was about 45-50. We are not talking about green college kids who can get away with far more. These are full fledged adults. They have jobs. They raise children. They set examples.

As if this heinous parade was not enough, we enjoyed the pleasant screams of a 2 year old boy who insisted on de-robing himself in flight. After a quick glance at his parents dressed in polyester pants that screeched a unmelodious 'swish' each time they moved, I agreed with the child's decision that no clothes were better than what they had chosen for him.