It’s never not humiliating: You’re boarding an airplane wearing all of your luggage (because you didn’t want to pay for a checked bag), banging your knee on armrests and knocking your roller board against seats as you pass the beautiful people with impeccable hair in first-class who are calmly sipping hot toddies as if sitting by a fireplace. Not to mention all the 4-year-olds with extra legroom they do not need staring at their iPads while you file into the communal corset otherwise known as coach. Ugh.
This is “airleetism.” Airplane + elitism. It’s the phenomenon of having an entire class war bubble up in your throat between your departure city and your destination. You may have a healthy self-worth in the real world. Maybe you’re even respected among your peers. But enter a fuselage and you’re instantly garbage. Accolades, triumphs, degrees—all of it goes out the window. (Except you can’t see the window unless you crane your neck, because you have a middle seat.)
Airleetism starts well before you board. It begins the moment you step into the airport. Are you a Platinum Gold Air Superior Best Comfort Traveler? No? Then stand in line for 30 extra minutes to check your bags. Did you pay for Special Security Keep-Your-Shoes-On Clearance? No? Then stand in line for an extra 45 minutes and take off your shoes so the agents don’t yell at you (as much). You said you weren’t Platinum Gold Air Superior Best Comfort, right? Well, do you want to pay $600 to board not last? No? OK, then you’re gonna board at the absolute last second before the plane takes off because you decided that $250 for a round trip on a glorified Greyhound was the max you’d spend. Oh, and BTW, there’s no more room for your carry-on and it’s too late to check it. You’re gonna have to tape it to the side of the plane and see what happens.
What don’t we have to check when we fly commercial without all the fancy upgrades? For those of us who aren’t flying in first-class Luxury Elite, Royalty Plus or whatever, we’re checking our integrity and our pride at the curb. We’re treated like livestock for something we actually paid for (but apparently not enough to be treated like an actual human).