TulaneLSU’s Top 10 views from 30,000 feet from NOLA to Seattle

Dear Friends,

Many of you have probably wondered what it is like to fly commercially in the age of Covid-19. I pondered this question as well. While Mother, family, and I have been in some state of quarantine since March, we also have become restless. There was a point the other week where we concluded that, to some extent, we must return to living again.

Mother and I spoke with our travel agent, who was not much help. We then began scouring the internet for ideas, information, and locations to visit. We tend to make an annual trip to New York in the summer, but chose against the trip this year, due to New York’s mandated two week quarantine for travelers from certain states.

“What about the Pacific Northwest?” I asked Mother. In my mind, surreptitiously, were Seattle and Portland. I like being in the middle of the action, and these two cities have been in the news with protests which I feel my civic and TD duty to experience firsthand. That the weather in the PNW at this time of year is a nice reprieve from the summer doldrums of New Orleans was the enticement I needed for Mother, who has not kept abreast to the news of protests there.

As anticipated, Mother’s concern was flying in a closed space for five hours with air recirculated. No amount of reassurance from the airline companies and their “hospital grade air” -- I do not know if I really want to breathe hospital air -- was enough for her. So after much thought, I concocted an impervious safety suit for the two of us. The outer layer was a hazmat suit, bought from Amazon. Inside, we had safety goggles and N99 respirators, which I have thanks to my crafting hobbies. This idea was enough for Mother to agree to travel again.



It was my first trip from the new MSY building. I was impressed with the new building, though, I greatly miss the old one. The new airport’s main portion is expansive, with a ceiling rising forty or so feet. I hope there is an easy way to change out those ceiling lights. The hub of the airport is its security zone, and it seems the entire structure was designed with the idea that security is central to everything here. The restaurants were closed, so I did not get to try them. The bathrooms were disappointing, with motion sensing water spouts that required movement or it would shut off water supply after five seconds. The soap dispensers were entirely out of soap. Thankfully, there were ample hand sanitizer dispensers throughout our terminal.



MSY was, on our departure date, sparsely populated. The people we did encounter, including at security, of all places, looked at Mother and me in our hazmat suits as though we were the crazy ones. Even one of the attendants on the airline said something dismissive of our concerns: “Think you’re safe enough?”

Our flight was only half full. Mother sat in first class, because, “I have to be as far away from people as possible.” So she required that I sit away in the regular section, which is not a problem for me. The bad news for her was someone sat behind her in first class, nullifying her plan. While she got food and drink service, those of us in the back were only given a pack of cookies. I wish they had given no one anything, because it was during these snack times that people removed their masks, spewing out untold millions of particles from their respiratory tracts. I had on my hazmat suit, so I was safe, but what of everyone else?

Jesus, as always, was right, saying, “The first shall be last and the last shall be first.” It took Covid-19 but finally the airlines, at least with boarding, are following Jesus’ pithy axioms. It makes too much sense to return to the old way. I hope we continue the system of boarding first the last. It saves a good amount of time and stress, and ensures that most people will have their hand luggage in the compartments above their seats. Speaking of which, does anyone check in luggage these days? It seems the majority of flyers only bring cabin baggage.

Window seats are a must for me when flying. I will not fly unless I get that seat. In fact, I deplaned once when I was put in an aisle seat, despite what my ticket read, and no one would give up their window seat. It was a scene and the attendants were no help. They could not understand this fact: that I must see the world if I am moving.

The window seat is more than just a comfort for my bony labyrinth, it is a window to a world we rarely get to experience. So much beauty is in store for the person who gets to see the world from 30,000 feet. Mountains and cities and rivers seem so inconsequential at this level. It is a helpful perspective of the world from time to time. This seat is so consequential to me that I have been slowly working on a short novel titled Hermeneutics from the Window Seat. How does anyone fly not seated in that seat?