Flying on Southwest Gives Me Anxiety
The mayhem starts at least twenty-four hours before you depart. Your best bet is setting an alarm on your phone for several minutes before check-in opens. Maybe you have an excellent memory, so you don’t need to use an alarm as a crutch. But I don’t. I’ve forgotten to check-in 9 out of 10 times when check-in opens. And when I have checked in on time, somehow I’m still at the end of the A group. Apparently, people can have elite status or pay to check-in early. Either way, I’ve accepted my fate as I mentally prepare myself for the upcoming competition of boarding my Southwest flight.
You guessed it — Southwest is not for me. My friend loves flying Southwest. She likes the freedom of choosing her seat. Remembering to check-in twenty fours hours in advance is not a hassle for her, especially because she confessed that she boards earlier if her boarding position is too late for her liking. She appreciates that she can have two free checked bags. The hearty snack and drink in-flight are icing on the cake.
But I pleaded with her to understand my perspective.
The pregame begins when you arrive at the gate. You’ve finished with the theatrics of TSA and after taking a short walk, you’ve arrived at the “cattle call.” Your eyes dart around lasering in on the people already starting to line up. Other people hang around the periphery, clenching their bags in a wide-legged stance, for they must remain nimble for these games.
Should you sit down or should you line up? You’re A57. It seems a little premature, as you have twenty minutes before boarding begins. Some people are already standing at the A1-A30 posts, but only one person is standing at A36-A40. Okay, sit down and relax, you need to conserve some of your energy for when the game truly begins.
You find a seat four spaces from the end of the aisle. The perfect spot to establish to newcomers that you’ve been there for a while, but also you have easy access to the route to your assigned post: 56–60. Don’t forget it.
It takes you a minute to settle into your seat. You need to feel like you are camouflaged within the scene. 18 more minutes. You might as well get some more juice on your phone. You whip out your charger after digging through books in your backpack. Of course. The first outlet doesn’t work. Now you have to move two seats down, sacrificing your strategic seat.
Praise! This seat’s outlet works. You open Instagram. Another person you knew from middle school got engaged. You make a mental note to find a boyfriend.
Oh wow! A salted caramel tart with a chocolate cookie underneath and chocolate ganache on top. Yum.
Your stomach growls. You did skip breakfast and it is 9:33 am. 12 more minutes. You pull out the sour cream and onion chips from the front pocket of your backpack. You need this fuel. You won’t be getting your snack and coffee until the in-flight food service, which is well after the game ends.
You bite into the first chip. That crunch was a bit too loud. You force your eyes to stay on the picture of a fitness model on Miami Beach — you don’t want to see any eyes judging you for your loud chomps. The beach would be so nice right now. Last night it snowed for the third time in Denver this week.
What is that? You stop chewing so that you can hear a voice on the telecom. “…to Baltimore will be boarding in 10 minutes.”
You look inside the bag of chips. You look up to the boarding line. Okay, no problem. Your line is only half full.
You see people start to pick up their bags and head over to the line.
Crap! You have half of your chips left. You start downing your chips, leaving little cuts on the roof of your mouth. You brush off the crumbs on your jeans and use your sour and cream hands to yank out your charger. With your boarding pass opened on your phone, you grab your bag and scurry over to the line bumping people from the B and C groups as you pass.
You’ve officially entered the game. Southwest tries to trick you with the illusion of orderliness. When boarding other airlines, you stand in a group of people waiting to shove them to the side like you are at your favorite singer’s concert and need to push people to make it to the front row. The chaos that doesn’t pretend to be anything other than chaos.
Southwest sets up posts to make you feel like you’re in control. But it doesn’t take you very long for you to realize you’re not in control, and you never will be during this boarding process.
“Excuse me, I’m actually A56. I’m in front of you right?” You nod in agreement as she steps in front of you. She should’ve known to get in front of me. She is the first person in the section.
“What number are you?” “A57,” you reply. He moves right behind you. You see his boarding pass from the corner of your eye: A59.
You feel eyes on you, and two seconds later someone squeezes in between you and A59. Is this A58? It could be an imposter. It could be B22 for all you know. You feel a duffel bag grazing your right arm. Don’t look back, don’t look back. Play it cool.
“Now boarding A1-A30.” You keep your head still as you slowly scan the environment. Instead of wasting your time scrolling through Instagram, you should’ve studied the competition.
You count 12 carryon bags as people start to board the flight in A1-A30. Shoot! Actually 16. Hopefully, there will be enough space for your carryon. It’s fine. You’re in group A.
“We have a fully booked flight today. Those in groups B and C please consider checking in your carryon. We can do this for you right now at the gate.”
Your palms start sweating as you clutch the handle of your carryon nervously rolling it slightly back and forth.
“Now boarding A31-A60.”
Get your head in the game! You only have one chance to land the perfect aisle seat. Don’t mess it up. The comfort of your legs depends on it.
You hear the ding as you scan your boarding pass. “Thanks, have a good flight,” says the gate agent. You know it’s not that easy.
You make your way down the chilly ramp. Only a five-person backup entering the plane. “Good morning,” says the flight attendant. “Morning,” you say back. Yes, a grand morning for the hunger games.
You see a family just ahead; the father is struggling to put a bag underneath a seat. You rush past them, making it to the middle of the plane, two rows after the emergency exit seats. You plop your backpack on the aisle seat and place your carryon in the overhead bin. You breathe a sigh of relief.
Someone’s shoulder rubs your left shoulder, and you realize you got too comfortable. Focus! You push your backpack underneath the seat in front of you and take your earphones out of your pocket. But wait. This isn’t like any other flight. It’s a Southwest flight. You can’t put in your earphones, signaling to the rest of the world that you don’t want to interact with them. You have to be alert for your greatest challenge yet of the game: the anticipation of who will sit next to you.
Yes, other flights have this challenge. You wait to see who will give you the nod that they will be sitting next to you for the next three hours. But there’s something about knowing that the seat next to you is assigned. That the person sitting next to you either picked that seat or was assigned that seat without the knowledge that you were the one sitting next to them.
As people pass you by, you can’t help but make eye contact with some. They saunter past you and you are left wondering:
- Do they not want to sit in my row because they want an aisle seat?
- Do they not want to sit in my row because there are a baby and toddler right behind me?
- Do they not want to sit in my row because of my age?
- Do they not want to sit in my row because of my race?
- Do they not want to sit in my row because of my gender?
- Do they not want to sit in my row because of my weight?
- Do they not want to sit in my row…
A woman around your age asks if anyone is sitting in the window seat. You tell her no and get up so she can get to her seat. You breathe a second sigh of relief. You get to sit near someone that you feel comfortable sitting next to, you have an aisle seat, and your carryon bag is right above you. You let your muscles relax into the seat. You plug your earphones in and prepare for takeoff. The middle seat doesn’t worry you. No one wants the middle seat so it isn’t as good of a predictor of someone judging whether or not they want to sit next to you.
Your opinion is confirmed as you see the last people trickle in. They take the first middle seat that’s available. The next middle seat is your row. Who is that coming down the aisle? Oh no! He looks like a Greek god.
“Anyone sitting here?” he asks. You shake your head no. You get up and let him glide to his seat. You sit back down and strap yourself in.
You sit there with a small pout on your face wondering why you ate sour cream and onion chips.
“Okay, I get why you don’t like flying Southwest,” my friend tells me.
The orchestra of traveling is stressful enough without the jungle gym of judging people by their appearance.
I’ll take an airline that assigns seats any day. I’m open to sitting next to anyone, even a crying baby.
I refuse to judge people based on their looks when I know that I would be upset if they judged me based on my looks.
- This is written without considering the added layer of traveling during COVID times
