“Remoted - Hybrid” – Day 551 (Saturday)

The summer I turned 12, we flew to Dallas Fort Worth Airport to visit my Grandpa Ray. This was back in the days when flying was a big deal, not the ordeal it is today. We dressed up. I wore a sleeveless dress with a red, white, and blue knit top and attached crisp white cotton pleated skirt. We flew American Airlines out of Boston and the flight attendant gave my brother, sister, and me gold wings to pin onto our clothes.

Back then, flight attendants were all female and were called stewardesses, and they looked like they came off an assembly line – all the same height and weight, wearing identical uniforms. I heard they could be fired for not maintaining weight and beauty standards set by the airline or for becoming too old, which was something like 30. I wanted to be pretty enough to be a stewardess.

In those days, meals were served on flights. Proper, full meals with meat and potatoes and vegetables that seemed like a higher-class version of the TV dinners we saw advertised on TV. That first flight experience included the most wonderful sliced potatoes in a creamy sauce. I asked Mom what they were and she said “potatoes are rotten.” I argued that no, these were delicious, and asked again what they were called. It turned out she was saying “potatoes au gratin.” We had a good laugh once we finally understood what happened. I still chuckle when I see potatoes au gratin.

That trip was a peek into a world I hadn’t experienced yet. Traveling through the sky was amazing. The food, the service, the luxury! Not to mention, the opportunity to be someplace very far away in a few hours instead of driving for a few days. I imagined adult life would be filled with exciting and glamorous travel to thrilling destinations.

There were many flights after that first one, usually to Texas to visit Grandpa Ray, then eventually, to other places, some for work, some for leisure. Over time, food on domestic flights diminished from full hot meals to a sandwich and then pretty much disappeared, replaced by a bag of crackers. What was once exciting and hosted by a glamorous team of people who seemed larger than life became as ordinary as taking a bus staffed by average looking people. I miss the glamour and the sense that what was happening was special. I miss the young me that imagined my fancy adult life before my actual adult life stepped in and stomped all over it.

While flying to and from Korea on two different trips in 2000 and 2001, there was a taste of the old glamour and excitement. The Asian airline teams wore identical, impeccable uniforms that included a small hat. Seeing a line of beautiful attendants filing through the airport to the gates was like seeing a fashion show, especially when compared to the casual clusters of their American counterparts in mix-and-match attire. The food on the flight was restaurant quality, and there were hot towels. Near the end of the journey, the team led us in stretching exercises. It felt special and luxurious and exciting.

Once upon a Tennessee wedding.

When I was in high school and college, I imagined having a dressy, elegant life. It seems like evidence I was born in the wrong era. When I was married the first time, we had some of the glamour. Ex-husband #1 liked to dress up, and we had Christmas parties, ate at restaurants where people dressed nicely, and attended fancy New Year’s Eve parties in hotel ball rooms. If there is anything I miss from that marriage, it’s the nice times at dressy places. They just weren’t enough to offset all the bad things.  

Now the closest thing to luxury is attending the rare wedding or themed costume party fundraiser. The closet lies poised and ready. Sure, I could dress up at home, but it feels like desperate overkill, even for me, to be dressed for a formal party and watching TV alone. 

When Mummu lived at Wallace Towers, which was largely populated by the elder set, she told me that when there were weddings on the afternoon soap operas, ladies in the building would dress up. They would shed their usual pull-on pants and track suits and don their finery. In the elevators, they would tell plainly dressed people that they were “going to a wedding,” and file into the community room to watch the episode. We thought this was incredibly funny, but I understand it now. I can’t wait to retire and find some old lady friends to dress up with on a weekday to watch a TV show. As long as I’m not the only one, any excuse at all will do, really.