"Artist's" interpretation of Steven Slater exiting the plane.

Upon hearing about the Jet Blue fiasco of this week, I instantly began frothing at the mouth, as I usually do when travel-related Dick Moves! happen, and I have fodder for my blog.

I’ve since wiped away the foam from my chin, but have maintained a healthy state of righteous indignation.

Dick Move, Jet Blue Passenger.

Yup, that’s right, I said passenger (Didn’t expect that, did you? Yeah, my blog is full of surprises. Unless you read the titles of posts.)

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Forgive me for getting straight to the point on this one. But here’s my shouldn’t-be-at-all-shocking-but-nevertheless-is revelation: First Class is not a right. It is a privilege.

Even if you’ve paid full price for the ticket (which most people haven’t), you are still incredibly fortunate to be able to sit in first class. You are able to board first, deplane last, sit in a nice big seat, and eat fancy snacks. It is fantastic. But it is not a right.

The only right you have, whether you’re sitting in coach, business, or first class, is to be treated like a decent, worthwhile human being. This is, of course, provided you behave like one. This also includes treating other people like decent, worthwhile human beings.

And yes, that means flight crew as well. They are not fancily-dressed waitstaff. They are the folks who will save your ass should anything go wrong.

And if you are fortunate enough to sit in first class?  That goes double, because once again, you are PRIVILEGED to have that seat. You cannot act like a drunken buffoonish idiot.

Are you listening, douchebag seated in 1D?

Because holy cats, you absolutely suck. I hope the irony of committing a Dick Move! while sitting in a section called “first class” is not lost on you.

Let’s recap our trip, shall we? I promise, I’ll be brief. It was, after all, only a 3-hour flight, though sitting in your vicinity made it feel DECADES LONGER.

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It is my utmost pleasure to welcome back the brilliant librarian/historian/bookworm/femme fatale Mindy for our second installment of “Mondays with Mindy“. I’m incredibly lucky she agreed to write another guest post for the blog, because I don’t know anyone else with her name, and frankly, “Mondays with Mindy … with Geraldine!” sounds like an identity crisis.

All of the content to follow is Mindy’s, all typos and formatting errors are mine.

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Dear Everywhereist Reader(s),

It’s my lucky day! Geraldine asked me back to talk about books again. But this time, we’ll gear the discussion toward the frequent flyer. You’re lucky, too! Nancy Pearl, the rock star of the library world, has already detailed her ideas of what makes for a great “carry-on book.” (Shut up. Do you have an action figure in your likeness? I didn’t think so.)

To sum: a good plane trip book has to be deep enough to draw you in and distract you for a good, long while. But it can’t be so freaking complex that you can’t set it down to let your neighbor use the loo. And it has to be compelling enough to hold you rapt, in the unlikely event you’re being harassed by fellow passengers and airline employees for your crazy leftist politics.  (Good job on the Swedish thriller, Geraldine. That’s the perfect airplane pick: plot-heavy, fascinating characters, crisp, clear prose.)

Sometimes I think there is nothing better than a good Law and Order marathon, I am still willing to admit that there is a time and a place for great works of literature (G.W.O.L.). The airplane, my friends, is not that time. Heading to Dublin? Struggle through Joyce in the privacy of your own home. Try Benjamin Black or Tana French for that atmospheric Irish in-flight entertainment instead. (more…)

This week’s guest post comes from Deanna, the brilliant blogatrix behind Traveling Monkeys. Since she’s far, far too modest to include a bio herself, I’ve included one for her. Here it is: Deanna has a wicked sense of humor. If you met her in person, you might pass out from the sheer awesomeness of it all. She’s mom to Ninja-baby, whose cuteness warms the brittle lump of coal that is my heart (quote, from Rand: “That child should be in commercials.”) Deanna’s traveled extensively with her little one, and today she’s been kind enough to share her knowledge with us poor schlubs, while even including a few Mad Men and Muppets references. In short? She might just be cooler than me. But don’t get used to this high caliber of writing, kids. Because tomorrow? I’m back.

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This is my daughter Maggie, aka Ninja Baby.

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Maggie was born in Honolulu, our families are in Maine and Florida and our closest friends are in Washington, DC.  By the end of 2010, she will have been to nine states and four countries.  You might say she’s traveled a bit, and I might reply “Bork bork bork Swedish Chef?  Blah blah blah Ginger?” because I have logged those miles right beside her and consequently, my brain is squishy and addled.

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The hubby and I spend a lot of time on planes. Sometimes, it’s only a two- or three-hour flight, which doesn’t seem like that much time wasted. But on other trips we might spend more than half-a-day in transit. Time we won’t get back. Time that he didn’t have to waste in the first place.

When there’s wi-fi, Rand usually goes through his email, and he often catches up on presentations and projects when he can’t get online. But as his unemployed, somewhat parasitic companion, I’m able to be slightly more creative with my time. I could spend it watching the same miserable blockbuster again (seriously, do people not understand that Megan Fox is not a good actress? Or am I missing the point?) or I could actually use my flight time productively.

Here are my ten tips for making the most out of those airborne hours. Whether you’ve got work obligations, blog obligations, or no obligations at all, you can step off that jetway feeling like you accomplished something (besides familiarizing yourself with the entire Sandra Bullock canon).

1. Be literate. Lots of people read on planes. And most of them are reading contemporary crap. Sure, you could grab the latest wad of Charmin that Stephanie Meyer has put out, or you could force yourself to plow down on some classics. Because you might never get through a Tale of Two Cities at home, but when you’re on a plane with nothing else to do, you’ll be amazed by how interesting the story becomes (especially when you envision Chris Sarandon as Charles Darnay).
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   Tis a far, far better ... meow.

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Photo courtesy of Nexeus Fatale, via Flickr.com

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I could have easily turned this post into a Dick Move!, but that’s pretty much a given when the TSA is involved. It seems there’s no point in even complaining about them any more. Though they supposedly serve the people, they’re not accountable to the people. It puts them on par with the IRS, the secret police, or an evil monarch.

In short, you’re screwed.

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A friend of my cousin’s once told me a story about something that happened to him while traveling. He had grown up in Switzerland when he was very young, moving to Italy when he was about 7 or 8. Later, he moved to the U.S., and he currently lives in Florida. Several years ago, he was traveling back to visit some family in Italy, and went through Newark, which is no doubt one of the larger and uglier airports in the U.S. And one that sees a lot of passengers.

While rushing to his gate, he ran smack dab into another traveller. While they stood, sorting things out, they realized that they knew eachother. They had gone to school together.

In Switzerland.

I suppose that sort of thing happens a lot, but it always makes my head spin. That you could bump into someone you know, far from home. I wish I could see all the decisions and occurences that lead up to two people arriving at the same place at the same time. Or see all the near-misses – the times we very nearly see someone, but don’t. It plays out like a movie in my head. I take a second too long picking out a shirt to wear, and enter the grocery store through one door, barely missing a friend who leaves out another one. (more…)

This blog entry doesn’t cover a new topic. In fact, judging by the number of results I got from a Google search, it seems like a lot of people have addressed it. But even though it isn’t new, I still think it’s something worth talking about.

I want to know why the hell Alaska Airlines insists on including prayers with all their food.

No, I’m not kidding. Every time you purchase food on Alaska Airlines, you’ll get something that looks like this:

WTF?

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I am not what you would call “strong-stomached”. Years ago, when I was a college intern at a local news station, one of the reporters called me “the runt” of the intern litter, and explained that had I lived a 100 years ago, I’d have promptly died of some contagious disease. I have been known to get nauseated on playground swings. I still have flashbacks to the one time I went on a spinning carnival ride know as “The Gravitron” in seventh grade. And last year, my doctor diagnosed me with B.P.P.V. – Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo (which is a fancy way of saying that my ear canals are wonky, and often make me dizzy).

Bottom line? I don’t do well on planes, trains, or automobiles. Ditto for cars, boats, and aforementioned playground swings. So I know a thing or two about keeping my lunch down when I’m traveling. Here are my top ten tips to those of you who, like me, don’t do so well when things start to move (and, from what I hear, they’re applicable to any type of nausea from motion sickness to too-much-to-drink-sickness to morning sickness). (more…)

Back in my previous life, I worked as a copywriter alongside such brilliant minds as Philip and Angela at Cranium. While I was still a fledgling writer, trying to make the transition from secretary to copywriter (p.s., I love you, Peggy Olson), Philip was kind enough to let me help out on a few projects, gave me credit for the smarter things I did, and refrained from telling everyone about all my stupid suggestions and copy.

That’s right, Philip, you were kind. I don’t know what was wrong with you, either, but thank you.

One of the tasks that Philip let me help out on was creating in-flight content for America West; basically, writing Cranium questions that would appear on the little hanging tv screens throughout the plane. It was pure awesomeness, even though only 3 or 4 of the 40 or so questions I sent Philip’s way were actually usuable (”We try to refrain from using the phrase “mother f*cker” on content that children, or anyone else, may see.”). The point is, it was a lot of fun, and while creating interesting in-flight content is challenging, even a fledgling copywriter can do it with a relatively high level of success. (more…)