While waiting to board my recent flight, I sat amazed by the number of passenger classifications who were welcomed onto the plane before me. By the time they got to calling the Basic Economy group, I got a sense of what the Steerage class must have felt like on the “Titanic”.
“Sapphire Perks Members! Come on down! May we rub special lotion on your dry, back skin?”
“Knights of Serbia, enter!” called the flight crew in unison, holding up the heart-sign with their hands.
“Emotional support animals? COME!”
The airline kisses up to its elite customers, thanking them way too many times for flying with them. I watched a flight attendant divide the entrance way into 2 separate lanes, so that the special passengers could walk down a special path and not co-mingle with a line meant only for substandard customers. Was the carpet puffier on that side of the room? I’ll never know.
“Who wants to sit on the plane longer than you have to?” I reasoned. But still, I felt pouty and unappreciated. By the time I got to my seat, the plane would already be yellow from exhales. Watching dogs, cats and birds walk on ahead of me made me feel like I was standing in mud being forced to bow down to a medieval lord’s pampered pet. I was on the outside of a crowded, hip restaurant making nose-prints on their window. I was a third elephant watching Noah bring everyone one else up the ramp two by two.
I had become the animal.
Has the airline’s marketing team somewhere determined that to get “Repeat Elite” business, they need kiss asses? I don’t think I’ve ever been in the receiving end of a true ass-kissing, but my instincts tell me I wouldn’t like it.
But…that is how we animals get to know each other.