The Peculiar To and Fro of Minnesota

I recently flew to Minnesota for a friend's wedding using Delta Airlines. Normally I'd use Southwest. Many people will tell you that Southwest is made of lame, or feels impersonal, or they'll call it Cattle Call Airlines, but I, for one, enjoy Southwest. They usually have prices comparable or cheaper to those of the other airlines (unless you are trying to get to Minneapolis), they have people on board running the safety demonstrations and handing out snacks, the bathrooms are fully functional and Southwest operates the flights on Southwest.

My flights to Minnesota were on regular sized airplanes - three seats per side with regular sized overhead compartments. But on the way back I had progressively smaller planes. Neither one had regular sized overhead bins and the second one didn't even have a first class. In the miniature egalitarian plane only those of us who brought nylon torpedo bags managed to keep our belongings in our possession the whole time. Seasoned travelers with roller bags had to put their luggage on a large metal rolling shelf on the runway on their way to the "Flight Stairs."

And really, do we have to call them Flight Stairs? They're just stairs that happen to fold out of the side of the plane, which means the plane is too small to use a regular gate. Calling them Flight Stairs does not make your airplane any more grand. If stairs folded out of your house that makes your house less luxurious, not more. You guys aren't fooling anyone.

And getting in a plane that small always worries me. Not because it's so small, but because they make you wander around on the runway looking for your aircraft. And inevitably they have to two aircraft parked next to each other and the luggage racks are overstuffed because nobody told us that our planes were going to be too small to fit luggage, so you can't really see past the luggage to know which plane is which. I got on my plane with my squishy bag and watched another man find that his seat was taken. He and the lady in his seat both looked at their tickets and both said 6D. They checked, they double checked, and they looked confused. Then somebody had a bright idea: "Are you going to Oakland?"
"No, I'm going to Austin," replied the man.
"Oh, then you want the plan over there."

The man squeezed through the oncoming hoards and down the Flight Stairs to get on the right plane. Then the pilot came on and announced that anyone who wanted to go to Austin was on the wrong plane. Cracking security you've got there.

I suppose it's safe enough to have people wandering the runways freely as long as we don't have any liquids in bottles larger than 3oz.

All four portions of my trip (Oakland to Salt Lake, Salt Lake to Minneapolis, and then back in reverse) were ticketed though Delta. I checked in on the Delta site on the way there and on the way back. And yet my return flights were operated by Mesaba Airlines, which is a subsidiary of Northwest, which is really confusing. While I was waiting for a friend to arrive in the Mn airport I noticed that while many airlines arrive in Minneapolis/Saint Paul, only Northwest airlines leave. I worry that Northwest is up to something.

This, perhaps, explains what happened to all the flight attendants. Delta/Northwest/Mesaba seem to have automated a lot of the announcements which happen before, during, and after a flight. There's a little movie featuring a redheaded woman with enormousness lips explaining how one might buckle a seat belt, breathe through the mask, inflate your vest either manually or via ripcord, or float around on your seat cushion. On Mesaba airlines they don't have enough room for TV screens so they single flight attendant has to hide next to the Flight Stairs and explain all this over the intercom. After she's done, and tidies some things up, she walks about a third of the way down the airplane, holds up a seat belt, buckles and unbuckles, stretches an oxygen mask over some passengers, and then goes back to her seat near the door. It makes some vague sense to those of us who have been flying for years because we associate the motions with the spiel, but those new to air travel have to wonder what's up with the seat belt mime. And what, pray tell, are the sandwich bags on the surgical tubing that she's threatening those poor people with?

And if Mesaba only has enough money to pay for the single flight attendant, they certainly don't have the money to pay for the fuel it would take to cart a regular (or regular airplane) sized or well stocked bathroom around the country. Part way back to Oakland I had to squeeze my way out from under the miniature overhead bins (hitting my head) to get to the bathroom. When I arrived I discovered that the bathroom was so small I couldn't stand up straight, nor was it deep enough that I could bend my knees much. This forced me to stand up straight and rest one ear on my shoulder and one ear on the ceiling and look what would normally be sideways to aim. This through off my hand-eye coordination a little, but I managed to relieve myself without making a mess. That's good because they don't have water on Mesaba. They have a sink full of individually wrapped sanitary wipes. So for my last hour in the air I got to feel both gigantic and not very clean. (And I hit my head on the way back to my seat too.)

I can't wait until they invent transporters for real.