I needed to make a last minute trip from New York to Chicago for a (happy) family event. I almost declined to attend, and then thought, what about my air miles?
I know that American wants me to use my miles -- the miles are an enormous financial liability to airline industry. And as all of my arrangements are via the internet, and require no additional resources on their part, the $100 fee I paid to accommodate the last minute nature of my trip was a bit curious. At least I managed to avoid a middle seat in row 29. I sucked it up and paid.
No point in riffing on TSA. Its been done. Enough said.
I managed to snag one of the rare blankets. Good thing, because seat 19F felt damp. I sat on the blanket.
It was a mostly enjoyable flight, and we even arrived early. I was fascinated, though, at the polite admonition we received at the end of the flight. "We" needed to turn a clean plane over to the next crew. Would we please pass our trash to the flight attendants. And oh yes, fold our blankets?
I really thought about this. Logistically, difficult to properly fold a blanket in a space so small that the pleasant older woman sitting next to me thought it fit to comment on how much I had packed into my purse. ("How can you find anything in there?") Also, a bit cheeky. Is it my job to clean the plane?
Thinking that this request wouldn't bother me in a yoga studio, I decided to wait for my seatmates to move to the aisle, and I folded the blanket. Walking off the plane, I saw that many others had done so, as well. A polite request, I guess, often meets a polite response. (Jet Blue does it on every flight.)
The New York Times recently published an article about how filthy planes are due to cost cutting. I'm glad to help. I guess.
And airport bathrooms? It doesn't take an industrial designer to think of some simple improvements.
How about moving the sensors on the toilets in the ladies room so that they don't flush randomly at inconvenient times? Maybe moving them to the door latch, or a foot plate near the door.
A hook on the sink, so that I can hang my purse while I'm washing my hands would also be appreciated. I'm a yogi, so limber enough to flex into the weird position required to lean down and wash my hands, while keeping the purse and carry on hanging off my shoulder from falling into the sink.
Someone did a study a while back on people leaving the LIRR ladies room without washing their hands. Could a woman's failure to wash her hands come from something as simple as the desire to keep her purse off the floor of a public restroom? (Hopefully she has some wetnaps in that purse and is cleaning up elsewhere...or could a few simple hooks actually contribute to improved public health?)
Air travel. I must take a deep cleansing breath.