Musing about flying

I hadn’t flown in an airliner for a while, although over the years, I have logged perhaps a couple million miles while in the Air Force, while working for Lockheed Martin or when going on various vacations. My wife and I had a trip planned to go to the Phoenix, Arizona, area recently to see some friends and enjoy the desert weather, and we didn’t want to drive from Texas to Arizona and back. In July, we had driven three days out to California (and back), and the time, lodging and food involved made flying seem more palatable this time. Besides, I had air miles saved up from spending with my Mastercard account, so we decided to fly.

Of course, I knew that COVID-19 rules would make flying more of a pain than it was years ago. True to form, it was. The Dallas Fort Worth International Airport terminal from which we departed wasn’t overly busy, but that didn’t change the bag dragging and security checks — never fun. Worse, however, was the federal law that required us to wear our face masks (and keep 6 feet of spacing — but try that when a massive throng of travelers clamor to get to the jet). What was even more nerve wracking was to hear, every few minutes, a recorded voice on the public address system threaten everyone in the terminal: “It is a federal crime not to wear a face mask; those who violate this will be prosecuted.”

Flying is a hassle in and of itself, but Judy and I had not worn a mask much in over a year. I almost stood up, upon hearing the announcement for the umpteenth time, and yelled, “For God’s sake, folks; we have been vaccinated twice and have our booster shot. I am suffocating on my own carbon dioxide! These (censored) masks are idiotic!” However, I sat quietly, mad and sucking wind in my cotton mask. I surmised that I might not make it to Arizona if I ended up in handcuffs being grilled by some FBI agents under a hot light in some room of the terminal. I complied with the warning.

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