Somehow I always end up on the short bus of air travel when I fly. Okay, it’s probably because I bought the ticket that was $50 less than all the rest. The airport staff always try to conceal the plane’s true size until the last possible moment. I have learned to dread these signs that I am once again stuck on the chihuahua of commercial aircraft:
1. I can’t carry my carry-on bag on the plane since there’s not enough room in the overhead compartments.
2. Instead of boarding through a gate, I have to go outside and climb up stairs to get on.
3. There is only room for 3 seats across.
4. There’s only one flight attendant.
5. My seat in Row 10 is halfway back.
I don’t have a problem with all small planes. My company has a plane that only seats 4 people including the pilot and it’s just about the smoothest ride around. But when you fly commercial on a plane on the smaller end of the scale, you’re almost guaranteed extra turbulence, which really does not combine well with my penchant for motion sickness.
Luckily I managed to avoid any ickyness this time around. It probably had to do with the fact that I forgot to bring a book and all I did for both one and a half hour flights was sit still with my eyes closed and think bland thoughts.