I just booked a short flight to see family only a few states away. Casual. I’ve barely flown in the last three years, for many reasons - some obvious, others more esoteric.
But if you know me personally, or have shared some of my career experience in global health, you know that it’s a big deal to be this grounded. You know that the majority of my time in the last two decades was spent in the air traveling around this marvelous globe. Seventy percent of my time, I calculated, not too long ago.
One of the things you’re “awarded,” for spending so many hours away from loved ones, scarfing overpriced airport food, walking quickly between gates, 37,000 feet higher than a human should be, is STATUS. Airline status. Monopoly money meaning. Rack up the miles, the points, the LEVELS, baby. Climb the ladder, ascend the echelons. Feels so goooood.
I have been a Platinum Medallion member — and the equivalent on almost every airline — for a very, very long time. I know that’s not even close to the pinnacle, but you’re up there. And other people, just members, are teeny tiny specks below you. I even had status on Continental, remember them?
I pride myself on being an adept traveler, and also a chill one. This is part of what makes me “platinum” on the inside (lol). Packing smartly, lightly. Arriving just on time, always. Being well-liked by even the most ornery gate agent. Hydrating, snacking like a champ. I navigated security lines, airport lounges, and customs cluster fucks with the skilled and joyful ease of a slick otter diving through a fresh and rolling river.
And I was deft not only in the air travel experience, but in the backend - the management and coordination before and after and around — my interface with whole blessed industry, my success as a one-woman travel agent for myself. I began to amass precious nuggets of insights, like a greedy little squirrel. But they were useful to me!
I preferred the stopover through Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam on the way to either Kampala or Kigali (the lounge had a calming broth), but the KLM planes were frightfully old - no place to charge anything. If you asked sweetly, the flight attendants would charge something for you. The luxury of flying Emirates is hard to pass up, but you lose so much time in Dubai. Then again, you can buy some camel milk chocolate, which is fun to offer a guest. Star Alliance? I am an ally! Sky Team? I am on it! Yes I have a Korean Air Sky Pass and some spare Sheba Miles.
A whole damn world that meant so much and also, literally, fundamentally, ultimately, nothing at all.
So I bought this, now rare, air ticket yesterday and went to open my Delta app to sniff around for a better seat (a usual turn of events for me). For much of my 20s and 30s, the Delta app interface felt just as familiar as a Tinder or Instagram. A little dopamine hit. A pocket reminder of my “status.” Where my friends were contained, my dreams, a reflection of my truest self.
This time I was floored to discover that I…no longer…have…any status. AT ALL.
I’m now just a member. And I have a mountain to climb — nearly 25,000 miles just to get to silver. That’s more than 5 round trips to Orlando this year alone. [I was only planning three!] Just to claw my way up to SILVER. Everybody knows that life doesn’t even begin until gold, and I shudder to think about how many miles that would take. Approaching Googolplex.
I laughed. Everything I’d “worked” for, put an absurd amount of meaning into, and taken for granted. *poof* If the airline status had made the time away from loved ones worth it, and it was now all gone, was it still… worth it? What a wonderful reminder. I marveled at the fall, like the weeeeee of sliding down the really long chute after you’ve climbed the ladder. Sometimes we mistake a spider web for a hammock. Whoops.
Maybe with a fall so far you just… start over. The thought delighted me. Maybe on this next flight they’ll give me some wings. “Ma’am, is this your first time on a plane? Would you like to meet the captain and say hi?” “How does this stay in the air,” I’ll finally get to ask, in earnest.
I’ll be an unaccompanied major they need to keep their kind eyes on. “Ma’am, please buckle your safety belt low and tight across your lap, not high and loose, m’K? I’ll come back to check on you in a bit.” Thank you, JoAnne.
I don’t flipping care, and even if I did, tough. I’m a nobody anyway and so are you. That’s the best thing of all to remember. It was just a stark reminder of where I was and where I am now. Thank god they’re different — meaning, thank god I have this arbitrary marker to assure me of change. Change is good. Change is god. God is change. Everything is different by the grace of time and viruses and effort and dreams and losses and life’s circumstances beyond my control.
But actually, it’s not that I have *no* status. My status has changed. From the time you started reading this until now, probably so has yours. What’s the status below silver? I think it’s dirt or soil or ground. It’s landlubber. It’s the element of earth. It’s root chakra status. It’s bhumisparsha status. Below that, it’s bones and rot. One day that will be my status too. Eventually one day, the status will be N/A all together. What did it ever really mean?
Nevertheless, here are a few things that my “status” enabled me to learn that I’d now like to pass on, since they’re utterly meaningless to me in my grounded, Dodo-like state:
Be as kind as you can to everyone when you travel, but especially airline employees, baggage handlers, customs agents, etc. All the nodes in the system you are traversing. One, because it’s easier to simply be sweet. Most people really do want to make your life easier and you can give them chances to help you by also helping them. Two, it’s nice to contribute to an overall positive biofield when there is a lot of dark shit outside your control. Three, no one is ever at fault for whatever nightmare may befall. It’s always the collective systems’ fault. We’re all victims to this Matrix. The kinder you are, the more you’ll glide like a happy little otter through the river of travel. I say things (and mean it) like, “If you could help me with this that would be so amazing,” “thank you so much I really appreciate you.” It feels good! I also lift peoples’ bags down for them. I get to show my lifting power and leverage my privilege as a tall person for good.
Step onto the plane with your right foot first. This is a superstition that I adopted from my friend Lauren in 2002 while studying abroad in Spain, where we few a lot and especially on those creepy budget planes that were almost totally empty and where your ticket was somehow free but you just had to pay the ten pounds in tax. I still do it to this day and it’s served me pretty well. I also imagine the plane swathed in white light and sometimes recite om mani padme hum. If there’s turbulence I imagine that I’m on Mario Kart, but also tighten my belt even lower and tighter across my lap.
Hydrate. I use water as a panacea for a ridiculous amount of things in the world, tangible, intangible, energetic, imagined, and otherwise. Just keep cleansing, flushing, and hydrating your system. It certainly won’t harm you. I stopped drinking alcohol on planes long before I stopped drinking alcohol altogether. On a flight in 2009 from Panama to NYC via Houston, I got “bumped up” and given a glass of champagne which turned into three and then the worst migraine of my life. Why poison yourself when you’re 37,000 feet up? At least wait until you’ve grounded.
Get eyes on the gate. I know this is a big divide. But I’m one of those people. C’mon, just at least get eyes on the gate before you go off and do your pre-flight rituals. Just get eyes on it, that’s all. Just a quick peep. Make sure it’s there. Make sure you’re in the right gate, terminal, airport, etc. (this has all happened to me that I wasn’t).
Feel free to share some of your tips below. And please wave to me as I pass you by in economy comfort!!!!
Love! So much desire Landlubber status ✈️
Very much relate to this!