Commercial aviation lost its mystique

The first time I remember flying was in junior high. Grandma and grandpa paid for us to go from Lincoln, Nebraska to Sarasota, Florida via now defunct TWA. From then on I’ve loved commercial aviation.

I was reminded of this today after finding this photograph on Flickr:

I never really stopped to think about what I loved about commercial aviation. It may be as simple as its relationship to a pleasant and significant childhood memory. And it may be more, such as its relationship to travel — the thrill of getting away, seeing new places, meeting new people.

I’ve only purchased two video games (as I recall) in my lifetime: SimCity and Flight Simulator. I’ve played both for hours on end, although I haven’t played either now in years. I bought Flight Simulator — see this link to a page about the game on Wikipedia, a version much later than the one I owned — shortly after the trip. I played it on our first computer, an IBM 286 with a CGA monitor. I listened to Enya’s Watermark album while I flew from Meigs Field on Lake Michigan, across Chicago to O’Hare. Sometimes I flew south to a different city in Illinois, but at that point I didn’t know how to use the navigation instruments in the virtual cockpit.

In high school I continued to develop my love of architecture. This included sketching out airport site plans when I was bored (which was often) in class. And in college I regularly meandered around the website Airliners.net; this website hasn’t changed much in the last ten years.

However, commercial aviation has lost its mystique. Instead of an almost giddy awe of anticipation I now feel the need to work up pleasant memories when thinking about flying. From my mostly ignorant seat, it seems two things took the unbridled interest away. One was, understandably, 9/11. With the increased security you can’t wander to the gates just to watch the aircraft taxi and take-off. You can’t wait with your family at the gate to greet incoming friends or relatives. The other is the lack of quality on the airline’s part. A soda and, maybe, some pretzels? Come on, airlines. You’ve given away part of the thrill of flying by forgetting “the customer is always right.” Or, in this case, the customer (and your service to the customer) is your most important asset.

I suppose this seems, when faced with bankruptcy, unrealistic.