Re-syndicated from LATimes.com
The scenario is all too familiar: A love affair that started out wildly romantic and adventurous grows bitter and dreary over the years. Communication breaks down. Disappointments replace dreams. And before you know it, the relationship seems unsalvageable. Or is it?
COUNSELOR: OK, let’s just start by really listening to one another. No interrupting, no name-calling. We’ll start with you, Airline. What would you like to say to your Passenger?
AIRLINE: When we first met, you treated me like a hero who swept you off your feet with my amazing superpower. It felt like nothing could stop us — the whole world was ours, and we even talked about maybe making it to the moon together someday. Now, I just feel taken for granted.
PASSENGER: What about me? You used to shower me with attention. It was all champagne and hot towels and chocolates. OK, maybe not chocolates, but chewing gum, definitely. On our last trip to New York, you ignored me completely and flirted with the Kardashian wannabe in first class. You’ve become a such a social-climber.
AIRLINE: Yes, I have some jet-set friends, but they’ve spent the most time and money on me, and that kind of loyalty isn’t easy to come by these days. If I want to give them a little extra attention to show my gratitude, I’m entitled. You don’t have to be so petty and jealous all the time.
PASSENGER: I’m not jealous. As a matter of fact, I wish you would give me more space! This relationship makes me feel claustrophobic.
AIRLINE: You think I don’t feel that, too? Look, there are only 99 of us commercial airliners left, and this year, we’ll be boarding 633 million passengers. You do the math and tell me how we’re supposed to manage that if we turn every seat into a Barcalounger. Which, incidentally, I’d be happy to do if you want to split the check. As if.
PASSENGER: What’s that supposed to mean? You’re the cheapskate, nickel and diming me for everything. Charging me for luggage? This is T-R-A-V-E-L — of course I come with a suitcase. What am I supposed to bring with me, a cockatoo? Oh, wait, I forgot: That would be another $100, and you’d probably just put him on the wrong plane. To Dubai.
AIRLINE: See? This is what I mean! All you do is complain. Your neck hurts, your legs are cramping, the guy in front of you just flung his seat back and made you spill your (ahem, still free!) Diet Coke. You’re never satisfied. You spent years ridiculing my cooking, so I stopped and said, “Fine, you be in charge of meals.” Then you screamed bloody murder. I can never win — you’re so needy.
PASSENGER: I’m not needy. I’d just like you to start showing some basic consideration, like not always being late, or losing my things.
AIRLINE: A blizzard, for the record, is not my fault, and trust me, I did not activate that volcano in Iceland with the unpronounceable name. Sometimes I’m a bit late because I’m obsessive about my maintenance and worried about our safety. I don’t want to hurt you. I care about that more than anything, and my track record over the past decade proves it. Give me some credit for the big things instead of always nitpicking about my choice of a movie or your seatmate who snores. It would be nice if you showed a little compassion yourself once in awhile. But noooo, you’re always too tired or too stressed-out to even give me a smile.
PASSENGER: If I’m such a hot mess, why are your hands always all over me?
AIRLINE: That’s the TSA, not me.
PASSENGER: We’ve just grown so far apart. And this is the first I’m hearing that you even care about anything but my bank account. Sometimes it’s like you’ve completely shut down on me. You don’t tell me anything, it’s impossible to reach you.
AIRLINE: Don’t pretend you don’t use smartphones and email and social media as a way of communicating, too. In fact, you’re always airing our dirty laundry on Facebook! If I happen to overbook, you’re Tweeting my mistake to the whole world before we’ve even left the gate. You’ve changed a lot, too, you know.
COUNSELOR: OK, it’s clear that both of you still need and want each other, you’ve just forgotten how to show it. But if you’re both willing to work on it, this could be a very fulfilling relationship. You have more in common than you think. Here’s my advice:
Stop fibbing. Honesty is the oxygen in any relationship, and being evasive or deceptive only builds distrust and resentment. Passenger, that means no more trying to fob off your 6-year-old as a toddler for early-boarding privileges, or faking a family emergency to avoid cancellation penalties. You killed off your grandmother four times last year! Airline, if the plane is still flying over Kansas, do not tell passengers waiting in the lounge in Boise that they will be boarding “momentarily.” That gets old.
Give a little: Passenger, do you have to stubbornly hold out for a free upgrade to swap seats when you can see for yourself that a family is being separated? Airline, can’t you just pretend once in a while that the 7-foot-2 college kid crammed into a middle seat in the back row is an elite business traveler who should be discreetly bumped to one of the five empty seats you have in First Class?
Communicate, communicate, communicate! You’re partners, not adversaries. Airline: Loyalty is something you have to rebuild and reinforce on a continual basis. And Passenger, if filling your SUV with gas makes you consider a second mortgage, imagine the fuel bills for a jumbo jet. Every new rule, regulation, safety standard (and cut-rate fare on Travelocity) hits the airline smack in the wallet, too. Besides, charging for meals or a carry-on ensures that only the passengers using that service are paying for it.
Play nice — and this goes for both of you: Ask, don’t demand. Say please, thank you, offer a random compliment. If you expect the best of each other, be the best to each other. You’re gonna be great together, once you leave all the old baggage behind. In Dubai.