Flight of the Doh-Dohs

I know I've been flying too much when I begin to expect people to behave intelligently on a plane. Maybe it's the millionth hearing of those pre-flight instructions that makes me so sure others have heard them and understand too.

I couldn't be more deluded.

On both legs of my flight today, my fellow denizens of the air shoved bulging bags plus every other personal item they were carting into the overheard, despite the attendants' repeated instructions to put the smaller items UNDER THEIR SEATS.

While bag-stuffing, my aerial compatriots plugged up the aisles in exactly the way the crew were saying fervently not to.

Then, getting comfortable, they reclined their seat backs and dropped their tray tables. Some began furiously texting as if their lives depended on it. Maybe they did.

The obviously experienced (and borderline exasperated) crew were savvy and persistent enough to clean up the mess and button us up for takeoff, but the going was tough. As the wheels left the ground I reflected on what it must be like to repeat the same instructions, and witness the same acts of misunderstanding, obliviousness, or rebellion, time and again.

I had time enough to appreciate the lot of the attendant before the first Doh-Dohs got up from their seats in a beeline for the toilet, and my reverie was broken by the loudspeaker refrain, "the Captain has not turned off the seat-belt sign - please remain in your seats ..."

I guess I can understand why one of the crew might grab a beer and slide away from the mess, from time to time ...