A different kind of air passengers’ bill of rights

So here’s a question: what happens to people’s brains in an airport?

I’m sincerely asking. I’m trying — though not very hard — to be less judgmental and sanctimonious. I’m bringing curiosity to the subject. Because honestly? It feels as if it’s everyone’s first time, every time.

Not just in an airport, mind you, but in society.

All the tasks required of you in an airport are normal, everyday tasks. Following signage. Being aware of your surroundings. Queuing in an orderly fashion. Being responsible for your own belongings.

And yet, some sort of collective lobotomy happens as soon as people exit their Ubers and enter the sliding glass doors of any given Deceased Politician International Airport.

I recognize that it is always genuinely at least one person’s first time flying and they might be nervous, yadda yadda, I know, don’t email me. I’m not talking about those people. They can get a pass for coming to a full stop at the end of a moving walkway, it’s fine.

I also recognize that flying is a privilege. But the experience has become exceptionally worse, and not just because of airlines who are now charging you a fee to recline your seat. Every boarding gate is now a lawless, headphoneless hell where you must be subjected to a cacophony of full-blast FaceTime calls and max-volume TikToks. Also, people, put on your shoes.

In the past two weeks, I have taken six flights and been inside six different airports, so I am fresh off seeing bad passenger behaviour in the wild, including people putting items that belong under seats in the overhead bins, having too many carry-on items, not deplaning correctly — write it on my tombstone, you exit by row — and, the worst sin of all, reclining their seats during meal service.

I always feel like George Costanza in these moments. “You know, we’re living in a society!”

How is it, in the year 2025, that people don’t know they can’t transport a full zip-lock bag of Bic lighters in their carry-on luggage, as I saw this week?

A full-size shampoo, fine, maybe you haven’t flown since 2006. But there are signs everywhere saying how much liquid you can bring and what bag to put it in and also the bags are provided. Still, every time I am in the airport, I see someone trying to pass through security with a full, freshly purchased Timmies.

Maybe I am extra sensitive to all of this because I am an Eldest Daughter, a people-pleasing cliché who needs to gold-medal in getting through security and be the flight attendant’s pet. You best believe I know when the nearest emergency exit is located behind me.

Sure, we all have the oxygen-mask part committed to memory thanks to its new life as a therapy metaphor — you gotta put your own mask first, before helping others — but I trust precisely no one with handling the emergency exit, even though the instructions are printed on the door.

Is this because we’re all on our phones too much? Is that what’s happening here? Is this the endpoint of a relentlessly individual society where we only care about what we’re doing and where we’re going and not only do we not care about other people, we don’t even notice them? Is this why no one uses headphones anymore?

More people could stand to be people pleasers, is what I’m saying.

And don’t even get me started on Airport Theory. Has this crossed your algorithm yet? If not, it’s a social-media scourge where people challenge themselves to see how late they can arrive at the airport and still make their flight.

To those people: may your seats be given away to standby passengers for eternity.

No one wants to be at an airport any earlier than they need to, but every time you take a flight, you are joining a temporary team, and that team has one goal: making sure the plane leaves on time.

Flying is indeed a team activity. We’re all in this together, which means we can all make it easier — and nicer — for each other, too. I was thoroughly charmed by a man on the tube to Heathrow who, without being asked, helped a woman with a roller bag that was as big as she was, and then helped her figure out where to go using Google Translate when it was evident she didn’t speak English.

I try to be helpful, too. I’ll help you find your seat. I’ll let you know what zone number has been called. I’ll put your bag in the overhead bin. I’ll entertain your baby.

Just wear your headphones and shoes and we’re cool.

jen.zoratti@freepress.mb.ca