My Airline Seat Mates

Whenever I'm flying by myself and walk up to the gate I see these guys. It's always them, like on a Twilight Zone episode.
They are my seat mates, we'll be sitting in the same row. One of them will have the aisle seat, the other the window. Me? I'm in the middle, between them. I offer to move, to generously let these buddies sit together, but they decline.
They have poor spacial discipline; their ectoplasm oozes over my armrests and engulfs me. I haven't cuddled this much since my wife and I were engaged.
The first thing the guy in the blue shirt yells is, "Hey sweetheart! Stewardess! What is this, a bar or a desert? When can I get a (expletive deleted) drink?"
He must be unaware that the person he is addressing is now called a flight attendant.
And this is First Class. Imagine what Coach is like!

Then the captain comes on the speaker and announces we are 17th in line for takeoff. There might be a slight delay.

​Flying wasn't always like this.

The above is a publicity photo produced by Boeing for the introduction of the 747 in the 1960s. It represents what the seating will be like in Coach Class. Look closely. No bikers in t-shirts. No doors have fallen off the plane. No unruly passenger has been duct taped to their seat.
On careful examination you can see that the flight attendants are the very same attendants that are on your current flight in 2024. They're just older now. A lot of airline pension plans went broke over time, and airline employees tend to be working into their golden years.
I had intended to use the airline thing as a parallel to what has happened in the world of books and publishing, but I''ll save that for next week.

Meanwhile, I''ll prepare for my seat mate when I change planes for the final leg of my flight: She doesn't trust airline food. She knows who secretly owns the airlines, and that many planes crash, but the news is covered up. She's going to tell me all about it.