It's time for another edition of Alex J. Cavanaugh's Insecure Writer's Support Group. Be sure to visit these talented authors who are always willing to lend a helping hand.
Our flight back from Israel was a long one, so my hope was to get some writing done on the first leg of our journey home. We got off to a bad start when they made us check one of our carry-on bags. It had no problem fitting it in the storage bin on our flights to Spain and Israel, which meant that we were destined for a smaller plane.
The Airbus looked like a propeller plane, and the space was so tight that we couldn't even roll our remaining carry-on bags down the aisle. We left for the airport at two fifteen for a six a.m. flight, and barely had time to spare. It didn't help that we were stuck like sardines for five hours, and still had to connect with another nine and a half hour flight in Madrid. I thought a good movie might help settle my nerves, but there wasn't enough room to accommodate a small screen.
I sat with our two sons, while my husband was across the aisle. His seatmate couldn't even pull the tray table down over his protruding stomach. This made me think about why these tiny planes don't have more specific passenger requirements.
Before we boarded the plane we had to make sure that our belongings fit into the metal carry-on baggage template. Is the next step to have passengers try to fit into similar contraptions, and charge them accordingly for excessive baggage? Should travelers be divided like cattle encouraging the largest ones to roam freely in first class, the borderline in business, and the scrawniest in coach? I thought of a few other suggestions that I wanted to jot down, but I was too worried to pull down my tray table.