Image courtesy of Microsoft Copilot
by Dr Rahim Said
The allure of overseas travel is undeniable. Buses, boats, trains, and planes connect us to faraway places, but nothing encapsulates the magic — or misery — of travel quite like a long-haul flight.
The airplane, that marvel of modern engineering, flies us across oceans, continents, and time zones, all while confining us to cramped seats in the economy cabin. Business class? That’s a distant dream reserved for corporate executives with expense accounts.
My recent experience crossing the Pacific to California brought this reality into sharp focus. As a younger executive, I often flew in business class, blissfully unaware of the challenges faced by passengers in the back of the plane.
But now, decades later, my wife and I found ourselves in economy, enduring the full gamut of indignities in pursuit of a budget-friendly flight. Why?
We were pinching pennies to fund our son’s tuition at a prestigious music college in Hollywood.
The scene was set before take-off. We were seated in the last row, next to the toilets — a spot no one dreams of but everyone dreads.
Boarding began, and with a full view of the cabin, we had front-row seats to the chaos that unfolded.
First came the man with two oversized carry-ons. His luggage was too large for the overhead bin, prompting a stewardess to intervene.
A simple rearrangement solved the problem, though his insistence on shoving the bags incorrectly tested everyone’s patience.
He then squeezed into his seat, wedged between an obese aisle passenger and a sleepy window occupant. Tempers flared. Another stewardess stepped in, relocating him to an empty seat beside us.
Unfortunately, this only worsened things — his grumbling about the “space-invading” football player next to him lasted the entire flight. My wife, headphones firmly in place, ignored him.
Then came the young couple with two toddlers. The children’s tears were a constant soundtrack for the 16-hour flight. My noise-cancelling headphones became a lifeline, though even they struggled against the stereophonic wailing.
Just when we thought the ordeal couldn’t get worse, the pilot’s voice crackled over the PA. A power failure was delaying baggage loading. For over two hours, we sat on the tarmac, listening to updates about the number of bags still grounded.
Adding to the tension, our phones buzzed with alerts about the worsening fires in Pacific Palisades, with winds threatening to ground flights altogether.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we were airborne. But by then, the magic of travel had long evaporated.
Hours spent in immigration lines, security checks, and layovers had turned our overseas adventure into an exhausting endurance test.
Reflecting on this journey, one thing became clear: comfort matters. The romance of budget travel quickly fades when faced with crying children, disgruntled passengers, and endless delays.
For my next trip, I’ll happily splurge for business class. At my age, arriving rested and sane is worth every penny.
WE