Come Fly the Friendly Skies!

What you have to understand about the way I view the world is this... My Grandmother was a lady. Not only a lady, but a snazzy lady. Not only a snazzy lady, but a post WWII housewife. Not only a post WWII housewife, but a mid-century modern hostess. I didn't realize it until a few years ago, but the personal style of Bette Ann Parman pretty much wrote the book from which I take my personal style.

What does this have to do with travel you say? Not much necessarily except that I believe every facet of life should be at least 1% glamourous. Even if you have to make damn sure that you are that 1%.

Thusly I have always had a rather skewed view of what it means to travel by air. I wasn't even alive during the golden age of modern travel, but in a way I was raised to view it as an event. When I was little we always dressed up to go on the plane. To this day I still have dreams of sashaying down the jet way in my heels; a scarf over my hair and a hat box suitcase in my hand.

Obviously this is not at all practical for the modern traveler. The fact is you will be seated next to someone who insists on claiming both armrests, you will be surrounded by screaming babies, and you will realize half way through the packet that your peanuts are about 15 years old.

So as I prepare for my flight home for the holidays I'm trying to have a new outlook. I refuse to cave to the pressure and drag all of my luggage on the plane with me like some people. That's right, I'm checking bags, (and I dare American Airlines to lose them.) I'm going to put on some makeup, throw on my pashmina and attempt to Zen my way through the day. I'm going to do my best to pamper myself through my flight so that I arrive home in a single, and relatively sane, piece. And maybe, just maybe, if I succeed, I will inspire a few others to fly glamourously.

Perhaps someday we will get back to that happy time when flying was a joy, not a downright pain in the ass.