the comfort level decreases

It was either my fifth or sixth trip to Oregon since August.

For several reasons (the virus being primary), I would have preferred not to fly north until the our current bout of infection at least abated somewhat. But life does not always offer us what we prefer, so we do the best with what is on offer.

I have written previously that my flights north have been rather uneventful. The airports were almost deserted, flights were sparsely populated, and the entire system was built around procedures to lessen the possibilities of infection. There were major exceptions, such as, when a group of traveling vigilantes tore down the police tape preventing access to tables at Wolfgang Puck's bar. But that was fueled by booze and was an exception designed for an interesting story.

This trip was a lot different. For the first time since the outbreak, I felt uneasy about flying.

My timing was bad. I flew out of Manzanillo on the day after Christmas on a flight that was only about half full. Christmas is one of the busiest flight days on the calendar. I thought I was going to be just as fortunate as I have been in the past. All seemed well. I was the only person going through security at the Los Angeles airport Sunday morning.

But that is when the comfort level took an October 1929 spiral. Once past security, I encountered more passengers than I have seen since before August of this year. It turned out my perception was not idiosyncratic. The news reported that it was the busiest fly day since the virus started working its way through The States.

On this trip, I stopped at Los Angeles, Portland, Seattle, and Redmond airports. All were markedly more crowded than they have been in the past.

Thankfully, even though social distancing was rare, everyone seemed to be conscientious about wearing masks. At least, it seemed that way. Apparently, the Alaska desk clerks did not have that same opinion because, like angry Moms, they repeatedly chided customers sitting in the waiting area to "put that mask back on."

Warnings of that nature were not necessary at Alaska's Board Room in Los Angeles. California has imposed some of its most restrive conditions because of the recent surge of cases in the state. When lounge members discovered no booze was being served and that food was on offer only to be eaten away from the lounge, most of them immediately turned around and left. Apparently, the ability to social distance was not high on their list. Another passenger and I had the full lounge to ourselves.

Due to the food restrictions, only Wolfgang Puck's was open for food in my terminal at Los Angeles. Even Hudson News was not offering their traditional faux sandwiches.

There were at least twenty people in Puck's line when I joined it, and that many more soon lined up behind me. Out of necessity, we were movie-line close. People then sat shoulder-to-shoulder wherever they could find a seat.

One oddity I ran across in Portland and Seattle was the presence of large dogs. All flying with their masters. There were more than usual in Seattle, but I counted at least 20 in Portland. Almost all of them were disguised as service dogs.* 

If they truly were service dogs, they were not well-trained because most were begging or sniffing food at neighboring tables in the food court. My concern was the dogs' masters were doing nothing to protect their charges from exposure to the virus from the rest of us.

Apparently I was not the only passenger to feel a bit uncomfortable on this trip. Alaska has a general policy on its aircraft with six-seats across to leave the middle seat open to facilitate some distancing. (Of course, the passengers in front and behind are well within the social distancing zone.) But that sacrifice of revenue appears to buy some psychological peace with flyers.

But leaving seats open is not always possible. The commuter flight from Seattle to Redmond is on a rather small Bombadier Q400. The seating is two and two throughout the airplane. The size of the cabin mitigates against leaving some seats open.

Apparently, there were about five unsold seats on my flight. The desk clerk had started a waiting list for people who preferred not having a person sit next to them. Unsurprisingly, the list had more than five people.

The clerk had requested everyone to stay in the waiting area if they were on the list. He started with the first name. Called it five times and moved on to the next. Some people did not respond. When he filled the rows with the five empty seats, he stopped calling.

Apparently, the woman at the top of the list had wandered off to do a bit of shopping. When she returned, she had one of those meltdowns that make you wish you were somewhere else. She berated the clerk, asked him "don't you know who I am?," and threatened to have him fired. You know: the usual entitled list of assaults.

He calmly told her, he had called her name, but she did not respond. If she felt uncomfortable, he could book her on the next flight, but he could not guarantee an open seat would be available on that flight.

She stomped on board, threw herself into her seat, and glowered at the man sitting next to her. She then brought up the same arguments with the flight attendant -- demanding to be reseated. The flight attendant told her the same things she had already heard from the desk clerk. The desk clerk then came on board to calm her down.

I honestly thought they would eventually remove her from the airplane -- if only because of the rather vile things she was saying about the man sitting next to her. He just ignored her. I suspect he was married.

In the end, I was very impressed with how the Alaska personnel handled the situation. Even though the woman was not evoking any empathy from her fellow passengers, the staff treated her as a passenger who was in obvious distress. After all, none of us knew what she was going through in her life. She may have been on her way to assist her dying mother.

When the clerk left, the woman took off her parka, reversed it, and stuck her head into the back of the hood. She spent the entire flight in her Nanook of the North cocoon.

At one level, the parka woman and I were akin. The serenity I have found in flying for the past six months is quickly diminishing as more people join me in the airports.

But that is the point for people who ask me if they should fly to San Patricio Melaque for what remains of the northern visitor winter season. Last week's flight has challenged my comfort level. I leave it to others to determine if they will feel like the woman in the parka if they choose to board an airplane.

As for me, I will not have to make that decision again until March.

Whatever you decide, I hope you have an adventurous flight where you learn something new -- just like my Mom tells me.


* -- That may be the last time any of us see that many dogs in the airport. Alaska has a new "emotional support animal" policy.

"Effective January 11, 2021, Alaska will accept only service dogs which are trained to do work or perform tasks for the benefit of a qualified individual with a disability. Emotional support animals will no longer be accepted."