Author: lloydlandry

I’m no economist, and certainly no expert on the inner workings of a major airline corporation, but this Christmas I’m wondering why the industry in general never stepped in to help. I do know that Delta, American, and United, for example, are operating around 90% full at this time of year, and that, on average, they have a few open seats per flight, if not more. Why not give a few folks a free ride home? The seats are empty, and an aircraft operating at 90% capacity is making a clear profit.

What could it hurt?

In the worst possible scenario, a good deed of that magnitude – especially in this culture – would forever be free advertising in an industry that could use some free advertising.

At first, I wondered if there might be an industry-wide shortage of flights, but a quick look at recent data related to ASM vs PSM (“available seat miles” vs “passenger seat miles”) changed my mind. According to The Bureau of Transportation Statistics, in September of 2022, domestic airlines operated somewhere in the neighborhood of 80% capacity. That translates to roughly 17 open seats per flight. Delta, American, and United have roughly 4000 planes in their collective fleets, so if, say, 20 percent of those are in operation domestically and headed in the right direction, that translates to 800 open seats. Cut that in half to account for my ignorance, effects of the blizzard, and holiday demand, and assume only one flight per day in further concession, and you have 400 daily opportunities to get somebody home, and again, make some killer headlines.

What did they do instead? They promised to put a cap on airfares, or, to put it more accurately, took a temporary break from price gouging. In the middle of a crisis, with thousands of people stranded, that’s the best they can do, and some media outlets are reporting that they didn’t even do that.

“…a traveler tweeted on Tuesday, ‘This should be illegal… I was on a canceled @SouthwestAir flight so I am trying to rebook something so I can go home this year (literally… no southwest flights until Jan) and flights today are TWO THOUSAND DOLLARS ONE WAY?!?!?’ She shared a screenshot of ticket prices from various airlines in excess of $2,000 for a one-way flight between San Diego and Orlando.”

But that’s what we expect from an industry where the key decision makers get little face time with the people they serve, even (especially) during a crisis. Goals, profits, growth, competition, etc. run the show here. If you’re stuck in an airport because a massive blizzard has shut down a competitor, that’s your problem.

I know, this sounds like pie-in-the-sky blogger BS, but imagine if Delta’s CEO, for example, walked into the Southwest terminal at Raleigh Durham airport, grabbed five families, and ushered them onto a flight home, compliments of Delta Airlines. Even if he notified the media in advance and was purely motivated by the opportunity for free marketing, it would be a Christmas deed of Dickens proportions, one that would rip through the industry like Santa Clause on a Christmas Eve crack bender. It might even bring a little hope that this place doesn’t revolve around the almighty dollar, that humanity is worth a bit more care and concern than it usually gets from corporate America.

Why is that such an outrageous thing to consider? How did we get here?

I do feel sorry for Bob Jordan, Southwest’s CEO. From what I can tell, his company was dealt an unlucky hand: the blizzard exploited a weakness in Southwest’s route structure that didn’t affect other airlines nearly as much. This didn’t happen because Southwest is a poor Airline, and it seems that they are doing everything they can to get people home, including repositioning empty aircraft – a huge financial hit. Beyond that, we’ll see what Southwest decides to do in the realm of reparations. If they don’t take care of the people who were affected, warned Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg, they’ll be held accountable.

I once had a client who constantly asked for the moon and payed as little as he could get away with. He told me regularly that he was thankful for the job I was doing, but kind words and a low hourly paycheck were all I ever got, so I walked away.

That’s not something we can do with the airline industry. We need them and they know it. They’re not going to care any more than the government forces them to. We might as well get over it, enjoy our $.003 bag of peanuts, two inches of legroom, and not be so surprised when, from time to time, we get stranded for a few days while huge airliners with 5 empty seats taxi all day past our screaming children.

 

Photo by Ashim D’Silva on Unsplash

I yell at people when I’m driving, icognito of course because I know how quickly things can escalate, and it used to be much worse, but if a fellow commuter does something stupid or irritating, I’ll give them a piece of my mind, and keep it to myself.

For example, in Denver proper, some are super nice at 4-way stops signs. Even if they get there before I do, and have the right of way, they’ll wait and let me go. But I’m never sure if they’re actually going to wait, or why they’re waiting, and not all people wait, so, when I get to a stop sign it takes an extra few seconds to figure out what’s going on. Drives me crazy. For all that is holy, just roll through if you get there before I do, that way I know exactly what’s happening and don’t have to waste those extra 4 seconds.

To the super nice guy who waves me through after we sit there for a bit, I hope you didn’t see me yell at you, and you’re killing me.

To the reader, you have to cut me some slack. We live in the city and my daily drive to three different schools every AM and afternoon calls for an hour of navigating downtown traffic, and people do stupid things during rush hour.

When my morning drive is done, I’m harboring no significant goodwill towards humanity, even though I drive with precise adherence to every traffic commandment conceivable.

Add our recent COVID pandemic, where a big chunk of America cried “hoax,” ignored advice from the majority of qualified medical experts, ran around maskless, played the victim every time the government tried to step in, injected themselves with horse medicine, etc.

Also add a similar group who stormed the Capitol because a politician who knew an election wasn’t rigged told them an election was rigged. Many still believe him.

Finally, add the internet, constantly capturing humanity’s worst moments and serving them up (because my prior browsing history suggests that I like it) and you can understand my dilemna.

I could list hundreds of reasons why I’ve come to struggle over the past 10 years or so, but I’ll spare you. Suffice it to say that I frequently judge people who do dumb things.

In that, it’s gotten difficult for me to have a good attitude about us.

I wasn’t always this way. Years ago, I joined a small-town suburban church in Texarkana, Texas; new to the whole church thing and convinced without reservation that its congregants were inherently good. They were committed to their community, much more knowledgeable about the bible than I was, and lived what seemed to be a respectable life. I felt like they were above me; further along in their journey of becoming a better human.

I felt that way about anybody who embraced a similar view of God and church.

It’s interesting to note the impact that a pro-people view had on my overall view of the world. In general, when people seemed good, my world seemed good and I harbored some hope that it would deliver good things to my doorstep – its light and beauty not so intermittent. Conversly, as I’ve grown in my struggle to see the good in people, my view of the world, overall, has become a little darker, a little more hopeless.

It seems that my attitude about people is tied to my attitude about the world, and to my relationship with hope.

In time, I learned that good Christian folk are just as broken as everyone else,  and worthy of my judgments. In 10 short years, I transitioned from believing that my Christian brothers and sisters were “good,” to marginalizing them, placing them “below” or “behind” me whenever they’d screw up. To be sure, there’s plenty to judge: racism, homophobia, Christian nationalism, et-al. And wayward Christians aren’t the only people on my naughty list. Never mind that Jesus condemned all manner of judging (in his view, as I read it, nobody is above anyone else, or by proxy, below), gorging myself on the worst in people has become a staple of everyday life.

Today, I can’t get through an hour without feeling disappointed, let down, jilted, cheated, and in general holier-than-whoever. My mid-50’s mind has travelled far from the peace of its small-town days, now the Mos Eisley space port of badwill towards men, driving an equally negative view of my world.

As I consider this new year, thinking about whatever I might embrace and/or jettison to make it better than the last one, this particular issue seems to be standing defiantly between current me and the me I’m trying to become. It’s also made me grumpy, and might be one of the biggest impediments to happiness in my arsenal.

Unfortunately, whenever we invite negative perspectives about people into our psyche, they’re difficult to get rid of. It’ll take a bit more than the decision to stop entertaining negative thoughts.

It will most likely require a(nother) miracle.

I’ll finish this post with a short unpacking of why I’ll be expecting just that.

Scripture tells the story of a God who doesn’t mess around; he has rules and requirements and meets their infractions with swift (sometimes unthinkable) punishment. Us Christians love to use that part of the story as an invitation to jackassery. Many of us have made that a central part of our belief system.

But in the second half of the story, God makes a way to keep all of his statutes in play while, at the same time, acting as if the people who can’t stop breaking them have never broken them. Having gotten the rules out of the way without getting rid of them, he loves all unconditionally, seeing far beyond our failures and frailties.

If you’re unfamiliar with the unified story that the Jewish and Christian scriptures tell, check out the video below. It’s a great summary of how the two come together, inviting us into, ultimately, a greater truth about ourselves.

Sure, all of that might be a fairy tale, or it might be too far from our reality to sound legitimate. Either way, it raises a compelling question: are we defined by our mistakes, or by something else? And why is it that our mistakes carry all of the authority when others size us up?

If I can manage to see past everyone’s perpetrations, as God does, what will I see?

I want to go back to that place where, most of the time, people seemed good to me. That world was better than the one I’m living in now. And while it will take a miracle to get back there, I’m confident that God will deliver.