What a way to fly — if you’re rich

When my husband and I were catching a flight from Roatán, Honduras, to Toronto earlier this year, we shared a taxi to the airport with an acquaintance.

He was an amiable guy and we made small talk. I noticed he got jostled travelling over the bumpy island roads same as we did, even though he was one of those annoyingly well-put-together travellers who seemed unfazed by the crushing humidity that was making my hair stick to my neck and forehead. Perhaps he was wearing one of those breathable fabrics that wicks away moisture.

And though I had heard he had travelled to many parts of the world, I noticed his luggage wasn’t quite as “seasoned” as ours.

We shook hands at departures, and the light rhythmic whir of his pristine wheelie bag quickly faded as he melted into the throng at Juan Manuel Gálvez International Airport while we were still gathering our bags.

Made contrary as a broody hen (an authentic Newfoundland descriptor) by the oppressive tropical heat that covered me like a wet weighted blanket, I figured we’d catch up with him and chit-chat for the next couple of hours — even though I could have easily withdrawn into my book, a dry-as-toast biography of Elizabeth I that I was determined to get through.

I needn’t have worried. We would not see our fellow taxi passenger again until we finally filed — thoroughly wilted — onto the plane, a bottle of water and a few stale airport empanadas later.

He, of course, was travelling business class. And even in that small airport in the jungle, the most coveted passengers could await their flight in an exclusive lounge.

Am I bitter? Not really — I just don’t do well in humidity.

But I was reminded of that experience when I was reading the Free Press on Friday and saw an article from The Associated Press — “U.S. airlines redesigning travel around highest-paying passengers.”

The reporter, Rio Yamat, described how the gap between economy and “premium” passengers is widening; how two groups of people can be on the same plane but have travel experiences that are like chalk and cheese.

One passenger, Yamat writes, is met by “a flight attendant offering a glass of Champagne and a warm hand towel” who “welcomes the passenger to a spacious seat at the front of the plane.”

The other poor sod “stands in a line at every step — security screening, a café selling $16 sandwiches, a crowded gate — then boards with one of the final groups, hoping there’s still room for a carry-on in the overhead bin before folding into a cramped middle seat.”

Yamat’s descriptive prose is so compelling, I can tell she’s drawing on lived experience — but if she can steer me to an airport where you can get a whole sandwich for $16, I’d be eternally grateful.

Speaking of steering — and steerage — it appears that the airlines are trying to squeeze out as many of us pesky economy passengers as possible, as we don’t bring in enough money per capita based on the bum-in-seat hierarchy.

“On heavily trafficked transatlantic routes,” Yamat reports, “business-class tickets alone can bring in nearly as much revenue as the much larger economy cabin, says an analysis by consulting firm McKinsey & Company.”

So, no wonder airlines — Canadian ones, included — cater to those in the forward cabins. Luxe airport lounges offering mellow jazz music and iced custom cocktails behind velvet ropes, celebrity-endorsed skin-care swag bags on board the flight, lie-flat seats and fine china, curated food and wine pairings while the rest of us are nibbling a complimentary “savoury” pastry from a cardboard tube to stave off hunger pangs.

“Marie Antoinette would feel very comfortable on any of the big three airlines these days,” William J. McGee, a senior fellow for aviation at the American Economic Liberties Project, said in the AP article.

Let them eat cake? I wish!

Yes, every business wants to optimize profits. But somewhere in the most cynical recesses of my brain, I imagine a boardroom scenario where a bunch of suits are discussing the new focus on premium passengers.

“Here’s an idea: let’s make the economy seats as cramped as we can, reduce the overhead compartment space so that finding room for your carry-on feels like a test from The Hunger Games, feed ’em some paltry snacks while parting the curtain to business class often enough to let ’em smell the boeuf bourguignon. Oh yeah, let’s give ’em some back-of-the-seat movies and games and stuff to keep ’em docile so they don’t pester the flight attendants with complaints. They’ll want an upgrade soon enough.”

So much for the friendly skies. Now, the chasm between us and the one per cent is every bit as wide at 30,000 feet as it is on the ground — except with puffy clouds.

Pam Frampton lives in St. John’s.

Email: pamelajframpton@gmail.com