Air Travel

Just don't.

As we enter Day Whatever of the federal government shutdown, the most urgent question on the minds of all Americans, regardless of political affiliation is: How is Dave Barry doing?

Thank you for asking. The answer is: Not great. I say this because today I am attempting to travel from Miami to New York via airplane.

Even in normal times this is a sketchy proposition, because the airline industry makes every effort to minimize the risk that any given aircraft will leave the ground. This is for our safety. Once an airplane is airborne, it becomes much more susceptible to gravity, which studies have shown to be a leading cause of aviation accidents.

That’s why every airline maintains an elite Takeoff Prevention Unit (TPU) that monitors departing flights, especially the ones that I personally am on. If TPU personnel have reason to suspect that a departing flight is in danger of departing, they immediately dispatch a man named Wayne with a neon vest and a clipboard to the gate to see if he can find a problem with any one of the 629,483,927 critical parts that make up your modern commercial aircraft. When he does — and he always does — the captain announces that all passengers must deplane while maintenance replaces the starboard disambiguation module, and they’re not sure how long the repair will take but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to see if any of the airport shops sell sleeping bags. Meanwhile Wayne is hurrying away down the concourse, dispatched by TPU to yet another aircraft threatening to depart. It’s a complex, high-stress operation, and inevitably some planes get away. “We can’t stop them all,” is the TPU motto, “but dammit, we can try.”

To make matters worse, the nation’s Air Traffic Control system relies on outdated technology, as evidenced by this actual photograph of an ATC radar screen currently in use at O’Hare:

These factors contribute to the epidemic of flight delays, which keeps getting worse despite the airlines’ efforts to improve their “on time” statistics by fudging the schedules, so that a flight formerly scheduled to arrive at a specific time such as “4:36 p.m.” is now listed as arriving “by Thanksgiving.”

My point is, commercial air travel was already a dicey undertaking before the federal government shutdown. It’s even dicier now. Consider the alarming remarks made Monday by U.S. Secretary of Transportation Sean Duffy, who said — I am not making this up — that because the air traffic controllers will be missing paychecks, some of them “are taking Uber jobs” or “are doing DoorDash.”

Which by itself is bad enough. But what Secretary Duffy did NOT make clear, and what has me deeply concerned as a ticketed passenger on a plane that, despite the odds, could potentially wind up airborne today, is this: Are these air traffic controllers engaging in their gig-economy jobs while they are also controlling air traffic? Because that could be bad:

Pilot: This is United 2038, requesting landing instructions.

Air Traffic Controller: United 2038 descend and maintain 3,000 feet. I have three banana shakes, one vanilla and two chocolate.

Pilot: What?

Air Traffic Controller: United 2038 that wasn’t for you.

Pilot: OK, but am I still supposed to descend to...

Air Traffic Controller: Lady, I don’t know where you get two vanillas from. The order clearly says ONE vanilla. United 2038 turn right heading zero eight zero. No, I have it right here: THREE banana, ONE vanilla, TWO chocolate.

Pilot: Wait, so are you saying that the heading is three...

Air Traffic Controller: No, I can’t give you a refund. United 2038 reduce your speed to two-one-zero. You’ll have to call the restaurant. The number is six four three, two seven...

Pilot: Mayday.

Air Traffic Controller: United 2038 NOT NOW.

So to summarize, as I prepare to travel today, my two major areas of concern are:

1. I’m afraid that my plane will not take off.

2. I’m afraid that my plane will take off.

To make matters still worse, if everything works out and my flight somehow makes it to New York, in two days I’m supposed to fly back home, and I’m scheduled to depart from...

(Click the arrow below to play the shrieking violins heard in the movie “Psycho” whenever Anthony Perkins is stabbing somebody)

...LaGuardia.

To be fair, LaGuardia is a lot better than it used to be. For decades it was a disgusting dump where you could catch a venereal disease just from checking your luggage. But a few years ago they did a massive renovation, and it was a big improvement.

Here’s the thing, though. An airport actually has two parts, which are known, in technical aviation terminology, as the “indoor part” and the “outdoor part.” LaGuardia did an excellent job of fixing up the indoor part, which is where you buy food and listen to flight-cancellation announcements. But for whatever reason — maybe they ran out of money; maybe they just forgot — they failed to do anything about the outdoor part, which is where the airplanes are theoretically supposed to land and take off. Unfortunately that part of LaGuardia is very old.

Q. How old is it?

A. The runways are cobblestone.

As a result, flight operations at LaGuardia tend to be slow, especially for departures. Even if your plane manages to elude clipboard-toting Wayne of the TPU and actually leave the gate, there are always many planes ahead of you waiting to take off, which means you’re at the end of a very long line.

Q. How long is it?

A. Somewhere ahead of you, drumming her fingers impatiently, is Amelia Earhart.

Anyway, bottom line, I am not thrilled to be traveling by air today. Although I hope that in this Substack I haven’t appeared to be overly critical of the commercial-aviation industry. Because the truth is that, despite whatever delays I personally have experienced, every day there are 45,000 commercial flights in the United States — that’s right, 45,000 — and Federal Aviation Administration statistics show that literally dozens of them arrive on time. We’re talking low dozens, but still.

Also, I think air travelers in foreign countries might have it even worse. Consider this story from People concerning a flight back in May on a German airline called “Condor.” This flight was supposed to carry 137 passengers from Zurich, Switzerland, to Crete, Greece. Ordinarily that is a three-hour trip, but because of weather issues it ended up taking THIRTY-TWO HOURS, during which the plane made FIVE LANDINGS. But that’s not even the best part! The best part is that the fifth and final landing, the merciful end to this hellish airborne slog that began in Zurich, was in... Zurich! That’s right: After 32 hours and five landings, they wound up exactly where they started. That’s a level of passenger abuse that most of our domestic airlines can only dream of.

So at least I’m not flying on “Condor.”

In conclusion, please pray for me this weekend, even if you are an atheist. And if you happen to order food from DoorDash, and your delivery driver happens to be talking to somebody on the phone, please: Do NOT interrupt.

And now let’s hear from you wonderful paying subscribers.