Withering Glance: Air travel and the social contract

Rick Nelson and Claude Peck dispense unasked-for advice about clothing, etiquette, culture, relationships, grooming and more.

CP: Flying used to have a sense of occasion. Of flash. Of panache. Now, they may as well just paint "Megabus" on the side of the jetliner.

RN: No kidding, and we can't pin this devolution entirely on the airlines, with their minuscule legroom, shrinking seats and lousy — correction, nonexistent — food. Our fellow passengers are making air travel a misery.

CP: Let me guess, someone in the seat next to you had overapplied the Drakkar Noir and brought on a Philly cheesesteak smothered in onions.

RN: Well, there is that, and yes, gross. Even nastier: the mystery passenger passing gas. Continually.

CP: Knock, knock, you SBD offenders. We do know it's you, but we are far too polite to actually smother you in your besmirched seat.

RN: My sympathies to parents traveling with kids. Particularly when they see the "Oh, great, kids" look on the faces of jerks like me.

RN: Or worse. I'm all for those U-shaped, poly-filled neck pillows, particularly on long flights. But don't wear them in the terminal. It's a pillow, not an accessory.

CP: And what about returning vacationers who insist on broadcasting where they've been? Yes, ma'am, I know from your sarong and shell necklace and your deep Coppertone tan that you've just spent a fortnight burning yourself silly at Club Med in Cabo, but this is Minneapolis-St. Paul International, and it's minus-7 outside.

RN: I love the logic behind treating the airline staff poorly. Yeah, behaving badly is really going to get you on that overbooked flight.

CP: Then there are those who take advantage of a flight delay to hit the airport bar like it was Mardi Gras and their birthday.

RN: Or the ones who keep talking — loudly, it's always loudly — on their cellphones after the "turn off and store all electronic devices" order has been sounded.

RN: That's better than the people who sit down next to me and lift the armrest between our seats. Um, no.

CP: At that point, they may as well just drape an arm over your shoulder. Fly the friendly skies, and all.

E-mail: witheringglance@startribune.com