Whenever I’m in one I think of some punitive elementary school. There’s an entire galaxy of largely symbolic rules, and everything associated with us is measured, weighed and timed. And as you stand in line you find yourself worrying about whether you remembered to bring your phone charger. Or your cool sneakers. Or your medicine. And so it goes, and never for a second do you forget that what you are about to do may be the last thing you ever do in your life.
Flying is something of a miracle, and we’re all, at least partially, expecting it to fail. And who can blame us for this suppressed expectation? Any time a plane crashes it’s international news. When the story breaks, people all over the world, those doing dishes or clicking “like,” are wondering just how they would have behaved in their last terrified moments as fire, cloud and sky sped by.
And please don’t forget the terrorists.
They might materialize at any moment. If you forget this, there is a terror alert, like a goal-thermometer on a fundraising marathon, warning you that today, the day you’re to give your first professional speech, the terror alert is ORANGE.
So air transit, even in a best case scenario, is a tense thing.
I imagine that Dr. Dao, the man who was dragged bleeding off a United flight earlier this week, was feeling some of this tension and uncertainty as he waited for his plane to fly him home to Kentucky.
Now we’ve all seen the video, and everybody knows that what took place was wrong.
However, the corporate face of United used the word “re-accommodation” to describe what happened. This is the kind of soft evil that creeps into our lives each day, and then stays there, existing beneath our skin like some sort of bacteria. We know all about over-booking now, and it all reduces to the airline valuing profit over people. This is the corporate way upon which our society functions. What seems to have shocked the microsystem in this case was that nobody would take a material inducement to give up their seat.
And what’s the corporate ethos in such a situation?
And so they dragged him screaming and bleeding from his seat. The law, of course, is behind United. Trapped in this culture where being busy is seen as a sign of status, we’re all so desperate to escape the heaviness of our lives and get to the beach in Veradaro,
that we accept that we might be “re-accommodated” when we buy our tickets. We sign-off on the fact that although we’ve bought a ticket and made all sorts of arrangements contingent on the timing of that flight, we might still lose our seat.
It’s kind of insane. The law allows a corporation to hedge on their services in order for them to maximize profits, even if it’s a ruinous policy for individual consumers. That the law favours corporate growth over human security is nothing new, but this is a particularly vivid example of the amoral structure that pins over our lives.
In the aftermath, Dr. Dao’s was vilified– a tactic minority communities know all too intimately—and the saga, now diffused through late night talk shows, social media and PR flak, is about to replaced by the next meme-worthy event. And still, the corporations will preside over us like gods, and because we believe we need what they offer, we will ignore our own intuition and continue to be subordinate to them, regardless the cost to human dignity and instinct.
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Here are three:
Dear Mike,
I have just read a novel in which an Englishman sees Spokane, Washington for the first time from a window of an airplane. It reminds him of Northwest Pakistan. Do you ever look at a place or a thing and it reminds you of something on the other side of the world? The first time I saw Athens from the air it reminded me of a coral reef deep in an ocean where I had never been.
Dear Mike,
Do you think you would ever be able to remember everyone who ever asked you the time? The only instance I remember very clearly was when I was 18 and sitting in the airport in Milan. An Italian man in a suit said something to me and pointed to his watch. I was terrified and shrugged and waved my watchless wrist at him. It became a habitual gesture. People ask me the time and I point to my wrist, whether I am wearing a watch or not.
Dear Mike,
The first time I saw the Milky Way I was seven years old. We were driving home to Chicago from my grandparents’ house in Lorain, Ohio in the middle of the night and my dad pulled the car over in a place where there were no streetlights and showed it to me. I remember the feeling of crouching as I looked at the sky.
Me: You coming to Barbados for the big surf competition, Soup Bowl?
Man who looked like Chomsky: What?
Me: Barbados. The surf competition. It’s like their version of the Super Bowl, only in water.
Man who looked like Chomsky: No, I have other business, although I do like the beach.
Me: I’d like to surf but I’m scared. I used to be scared of sharks when I was a boy but now I’m scared of jellyfish. They’re taking over the oceans.
Man who looked like Chomsky: (Said nothing)
Me: Are you Noam Chomsky?
Man who looked like Chomsky: Yes.
Me: WOW!! I thought so!
Chomsky: (Nods)
Me: So, what’s up with Occupy Wall Street?
Rachelle: (In a whisper-hiss) Pickle, be quiet, for the love of God!
Chomsky: I don’t know what you mean.
Me: I hear they’re buying up debt from collection agencies and then forgiving it. I would LOVE it if they bought some of my debt. Do you have any sway in that?
Chomsky: No, I don’t.
Me: You know, you’ve really shaped a lot of minds over the decades. I bet a lot of college kids name their pets after you. Thousands of dogs and cats named Chomsky.
Rachelle: I’m sorry, my husband is dehydrated and only slept for an hour last night. Please forgive us.
Chomsky: I see.
Me: If I was an anarchist like you I wouldn’t wait in line. I’d just charge right through, upset the system and start a revolution by hitting the beach!
Chomsky: You do like the sound of your own voice, don’t you?
Me: I’m just social and maybe a little nervous meeting you, I guess.
Chomsky: I’m sorry, I just need to be alone with my thoughts, okay?
(Several minutes pass)
Me: You’re going to be really hot wearing that corduroy jacket on the island, you know.
Chomksy: (Ignores me)
Me: (Whispering to Rachelle) I can’t believe he has a corporate logo on his laptop bag. Adidas? Really? They must have paid for his trip.
Rachelle: (Whisper-hiss) Just find your passport and shut-up, okay?
(Awkward silence for the rest of our wait to customs)
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