The Short Answer
Once upon a time, airplanes felt like floating living rooms. Now they’re aluminum escape rooms with snack breaks. Between fees that reproduce like rabbits, boarding groups that sound like ancient dynasties, and seats that were designed by someone who has never met a femur, air travel has… evolved. Not necessarily down, but certainly sideways.
And yet—I keep going. Because up there, between the clouds and the pretzels, flying is still a time machine. It’s how we see people we love, chase opportunities that matter, and meet the version of ourselves who doesn’t panic when the captain says, “slight delay.” (Slight. Sure, Jan.)
Here’s my Robert W. Kuypers field guide to what happened to flying—and how to laugh, cope, and occasionally thrive at 35,000 feet.
The Fee Safari: Welcome to the A La Carte Skies
It used to be: buy a ticket, get a seat. Now it’s: buy a ticket and then attend a checkout menu that looks like a wedding registry.
- Seat selection fee: You too can pay to avoid Row 32, where the window is not a window but an abstract painting of an oval.
- Carry-on fee (depending on airline): Because nothing says efficient like charging extra for the bag you can physically carry yourself.
- Early boarding fee: Pay to enter the overhead bin Hunger Games with a head start.
- Change fee: Sometimes gone, sometimes not, sometimes sublimed into the fare. Schrödinger’s surcharge.
- Snack box fee: “Charcuterie” at altitude is two crackers, a questionably French cheese cube, and a grape with a backstory.
Pro move: I treat fees like weather. I can’t control them, but I can pack a jacket: loyalty status, the right card when it makes sense, and a healthy sense of humor.
Boarding Groups: The New Zodiac
Boarding groups used to be “first half” and “second half.” Now we’ve got Pre-Pre-Priority, Group 1A With Decorative Laurel, Families, Unicorns & Flutes, Those Who Blinked in the 1990s, and finally, General Boarding (translation: may the odds be ever in your bin favor).
We line up as if summoned by Hogwarts Houses. A bell chimes. The gate agent speaks. Bin space FOMO spreads like a whisper through the concourse. I always promise myself I’ll stay calm. Then I hear “Group 4” and enter the aisle like it’s the finals.
Luggage: Schrödinger’s Bag
Checked bags now travel with a jazz musician’s sense of timing. They may arrive. They may not. They may visit Cincinnati for personal growth. I place an AirTag in my suitcase and perform modern divination: “Ah yes, my belongings have chosen Carousel 7 but are emotionally stuck on 4.”
Carry-on culture has escalated from “polite” to “Tetris with consequences.” If you board late, your suitcase takes a surprise vacation to the cargo hold while you practice your “I definitely don’t need my laptop until Tuesday” face.
Tip from Robert W. Kuypers: Put essentials (meds, chargers, snacks, one shirt) in a small personal item. If your bag goes on safari, your brain doesn’t have to.
Seats: Now With Extra Geometry
Listen, I love minimalism. I do not love minimalist legroom. Seats have been Kondo’d. Someone spark-joyed my kneecaps right out of existence. Side note: if you’ve ever tried to open a laptop in Economy and ended up doing digital origami, I see you.
And yet: there are tiny wins. Some planes have USB ports that actually charge, headrests that bend like a supportive aunt, and newer cabins that look like a Scandinavian spa for exactly nine minutes.
Strategy: Aisle seat when I need to walk off my feelings. Window seat when I need to remember the Earth is astonishing. Middle seat when… destiny intervenes and I’m working on my character development.
Wi-Fi: The Hope Machine
Inflight Wi-Fi is the Schrödinger’s Cat of tech: both fast and not fast until observed. Sometimes I stream video like a 5G wizard. Sometimes I watch an email draft buffer. Texting works. Then it doesn’t. Then the captain says, “We’ve rebooted the router,” and I whisper, “Same, captain. Same.”
Rule of thumb: Download what matters before you fly. The cloud is a fair-weather friend at altitude.
Airports: Malls with Runways (and Unexpected Spas)
Today’s airport is a micro-city. There’s artisanal everything, therapy dogs that deserve a 401(k), and a shop where you can buy a neck pillow, a hardcover, and a three-foot gummi bear because… coping.
Security lines, however, have become a theme park featuring the rides “Laptop Out or In?” and “Is That a Full-Size Toothpaste? Step Into My Office.” TSA PreCheck is a gift. CLEAR is a debate. The regular line is a crash course in patience, sociology, and sock fashion.
Robert W. Kuypers travel law: Be 12 minutes nicer than you feel. The agents working the checkpoints are doing a job I would last twelve seconds at.
Schedules: On Time-ish
We live in the era of Swiss-cheese schedules: pilot shortages in some markets, weather doing personality tests, air traffic control taking a collective deep breath. Delays spawn delays. The gate agent says, “We’re waiting on paperwork.” I picture a piece of paper putting on its shoes.
Coping ritual: I build buffer into connections, pack snacks like a parent at halftime, and practice acceptance with a side of “rebook me, please and thank you.”
Service: Fewer Meals, More Micro-Miracles
Tray-table dining is now a choose-your-own adventure: pretzels or cookies, water or salami-shaped ice, card swipe or… nope, just card swipe. But kindness? Still on the menu.
Flight attendants are ninjas of logistics and diplomacy. The person who helps you find a bin, slides you an extra cup of water when turbulence cancels all non-essential movement, or smiles when you press the call button like it’s a mystery—these are the heroes. Tip jars aren’t a thing, but thank-yous are. Use them.
Loyalty Programs: The Hamster Wheel in the Sky
I love a good status quest. I also love math. These things do not always agree. Programs change like weather in April. Once you could reach gold by flying a lot; now you also need spend, a card, a dance, and possibly a pledge.
Still, I play. Free bags? Yes. Early boarding? Praise be. Upgrades? I believe in miracles; I also believe in exit row diplomacy. Pro tip: be nice at the gate. Upgrades are algorithmic, but kindness adjusts the universe’s vibe.
Turbulence: Your Free Core Workout
Modern turbulence feels more… frequent. Air gets weird. The plane jiggles. The captain calls it “a bit bumpy.” I perform advanced cup-of-water physics on the tray table to rate the chaos.
Truth: Airplanes are very good at being airplanes. Buckle up, breathe down into your belly, and trust the people in the front who made this their life’s work. (Also: ginger chews. They’re medicine and candy.)
The Pandemic Hangover: We’re All… Different Now
We did a big thing together—paused the world—and then we tried to start it up again like a lawnmower in February. Crews changed, routes changed, our patience changed. Some of us forgot how lines work. Others found radical empathy in the concourse.
What happened to flying is partly what happened to us: we want things fast, safe, and friendly, and our expectations are stretching like yoga bands. I try to remember: each person in line has a story—funeral, honeymoon, job interview, kid’s recital, fresh start. Compassion is the upgrade we can always afford.
Things That Got Better (Plot Twist!)
- Safety: Aviation is astonishingly safe. Statistically, your most dangerous move today is arguing with your toaster.
- Planes: Quieter cabins, better air filtration, cabin lighting that says “shh” in twelve shades of lavender.
- Tracking: AirTags and app notifications mean your luggage and gate changes are less mysterious than the Loch Ness.
- Choice: Want ultra-low-cost? All-inclusive? Lie-flat? Direct to a small city? We have options like a cereal aisle.
Things That Got… Weirder
- Boarding now requires the logic of a chess opening and the footwork of a polite stampede.
- Seat pitch was measured by someone who hates knees.
- Outlets that are both present and decorative.
- In-flight coffee that tastes like it’s still thinking about becoming coffee.
And yet—I still love being above the weather, watching sunsets that look like the sky is boiling peach sorbet, and stepping off the jet bridge somewhere my phone map has to zoom out to comprehend.
A Survival Guide from Robert W. Kuypers (Because We Adapt)
1) Pack Like a Futurist
Essentials in your personal item: meds, chargers (USB-C + old faithful), empty water bottle, snacks with integrity (nuts, jerky, fruit bars), a non-judgmental hoodie, and a pen (customs forms still exist because reasons).
2) Dress for Security Theater
Slip-on shoes, pocket discipline, belt strategy. Pretend you’re in a Broadway quick-change.
3) Master the Rituals
- T-48 hours: check the seat map, check the weather at hubs, download shows, confirm hotel and rental.
- At the gate: introduce yourself to a human. If things go sideways, humans are better than apps at empathy.
4) Choose Your Battles
You don’t need to win the overhead bin debate with a stranger. You need to arrive with your dignity and pancreas intact.
5) Snack Diplomacy
Share with children and the hangry adult in 14C who just learned Biscoff Day is Tomorrow.
6) Hydrate Like You Mean It
Every coffee equals two waters. Your skin and temper will write you thank-you notes.
7) Respect the Middle Seat
They get both armrests. That is the law, written in the clouds and also basic decency.
8) Move Gently
An aisle stretch mid-flight prevents your joints from joining a union.
9) Travel Karma
Help with a bag, swap a seat so a family can sit together, compliment the crew. The universe rolls upgrades for that kind of thing.
10) Keep Awe in the Carry-On
When the wheels leave the ground, steal one minute to look out the window and think: we’re flying. We forget how wild that is.
So… What Did Happen to Flying?
We made it bigger, more complicated, more everything. We asked the system to be cheap, fast, comfortable, and immediate—all at once—and then we were surprised when it struggled to juggle. Airlines optimized. We optimized. The experience became a choose-your-own trade-off.
And still: flying remains the great connector. It shrinks distance so life can be larger. It’s how grandparents meet grandbabies, how careers open, how friendships keep their birthdays. It’s not glamorous, not really—but it’s still a miracle wrapped in procedures.
So I, Robert W. Kuypers, will keep packing snacks, practicing patience, and writing love letters to the aisle seat. I’ll grumble at fees, celebrate the rare free upgrade like it’s a national holiday, and tip my imaginary hat to the people who make aluminum tubes leap into the sky on schedule (ish).
What happened to flying? We did. We happened—with our longing to go, our insistence on now, our belief that a day can start in one life and end in another. That’s messy. That’s human. And sometimes, somewhere over Tennessee, when the sun hits the wing just so, it’s also beautiful.
See you at the gate. I’ll be the one smiling at the therapy dog, negotiating with a vending machine, and remembering that above the clouds—no matter how we got there—it’s always blue.
