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To air is inhuman

Probably as a defence mechanism against the dehumanizing aspects of air travel, I long ago came up with a mordant little game I play on every flight to Los Angeles.

 The game involves sizing up the celebrities in Executive class and figuring out where my paper would put me in the crash story. On one flight, there was Sugar Ray Leonard, Chuck Yaeger (the man who broke the sound barrier for you kids), Ted Danson and the comedy troupe The Frantics. I figured I might get mentioned ahead of the latter, even though they had a CBC series at the time. The other papers would certainly mention me last, if at all.

 Air Canada flights 790, 791, 792, 796 and 799 'twixt Toronto and the City Of Angels are among those rare occasions where you can spend five hours in the presence of greatness -- maybe even sit next to them if you've shelled or upgraded to Executive. And yes, there's a little more leg room where they're sitting. But in effect, they're still riding a bus with wings, sharing the ride with computer techs, salesmen, comptrollers and me, and subject to the same indignities as the rest of us.

 No wonder they usually spring on a private plane the second they make their first $100 million.

 For me, the glamour of flying disappeared after my teens. The human-sacrifice-cum-lottery that is flying standby -- the preferred travel class of youth -- wiped out any childhood fascination. Even my oldest son, who gobbled up airline food at an age when he usually would only eat hot dogs, hamburgers or pizza, now recognizes it for the swill it is. Many comics have pilloried inflight cuisine, but my favourite comes from Made In Canada's Ron James, who decries the "sandwiches made with a slice of ham so thin, the pig never felt it coming off his arse."

 LOST ENGINES

 Over the years, as a certified frequent flyer, I've been on planes that lost engines. A flight to Montreal got knocked around twice by thundercells -- I'm talking coffee-flying-off-your-tray "knocked around" -- the second time while the pilot was explaining that we'd just gone through a thundercell and everything was now fine. I've sat on the tarmac for three hours while they waited for lightning to stop. I've sat for two hours while planes waited for de-icing.

 Acts of God all, but from the actions of airlines, it's clear they don't feel God is doing enough to make us feel like Job -- else why would they turn off the air when we sat on the tarmac?

 If you fly often enough, they give you upgrade certificates that are useless on most tickets. If you fly on a seat sale, they give you reduced frequent flyer miles for the trip for your having the temerity to take advantage of a sale. When I recently was allowed to use upgrade certificates, I was booted from the Air Canada lounge because my upgrade apparently did not also give me the right to sit before takeoff with my betters on soft chairs.

 The tail end of my trip to Winnipeg to move my mother here (the subject of a recent alt.ent) saw Royal Airlines cancel the Friday return leg because of fog in Toronto. I could fly again in three days, they said, or I could have a refund. The refund covered a small fraction of the $840 a one-way full-fare ticket on Air Canada cost me, my mom and my sister each.

 AT THEIR MERCY

 This week, CTV's W5 carried a feature on air travel and the Byzantine contract to which a ticket buyer tacitly agrees. The upshot: The airline can do pretty much anything it wants to you and with you. To which I'd answer, "Duh."

 Royal Airlines gave me the same bad news in a meaningless letter of "regret but no compensation" they sent in response to my complaint. Toronto Sun consumer columnist Maryanna Lewyckyj tells me the discount airlines are the worst because of their irregular schedules and small fleets of planes -- something to think about on your next holiday. You could save 50 or 60 bucks, or end up paying thousands extra like I did.

 And now our two major airlines are merging. So I'm with Consumer and Commercial Relations Minister Bob Runciman (another victim of Royal Airlines) that the time has come for a bill of rights for passengers.

 Failing that, Bob, let's use the budget surplus to buy Ontarians a fleet of private jets.

 We could even give a special rate to celebrities who can't afford their own.