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By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

All the world is a stage and, yes, all the men and women are merely players, as Shakespeare wrote in “As You Like it.”

Recently, my life has been filled with scenes and moments in which I have observed pieces of people’s lives.

I’ll start with something small.

Standing outside JFK Airport, waiting for a ride, I watched two people share their displeasure with each other.

The burly man with the large shoulders and the technicolor tattoos down his arms turned to the woman with a colorful Jersey Shore outfit to give her a piece of his mind.

“You’re selfish and narcissistic and you only think about yourself all the time and I’m sick of it and of you!” he barked.

“Everyone can see you and hear you,” the woman said, looking in my direction.

“I don’t care,” he spit out through clenched teeth, as his ride arrived and he shoved their large suitcases into a small trunk. “I’m not embarrassed. You should be.” The suitcases weren’t fitting the way he was jamming them in, but that didn’t stop him from trying, causing the car to rock back and forth. His angry actions had become a manifestation of his mood.

Once the luggage was packed in the back, he walked directly into the street, almost getting clipped by a passing car, pulled open the door and threw himself into the seat.

With her head cast down slightly, his companion opened her door, took off her backpack and entered the car.

On the other end of the spectrum, I sat next to a woman on a plane who exuded optimism. Recognizing her joy of hiking, her fiancee asked her to marry him at Acadia National Park. After their engagement, they stopped in Boston to attend a concert, which is her fiancee’s personal passion. Whenever they travel, they find time to hike and to hear live music.

A sales representative for a consumer company, she shared that she was a “people person” and that she was traveling on her own to see her family and to attend a bridal shower, while her fiancee stayed home to watch their dogs.

When she’s having a terrible day, she buys a stranger a coffee or breakfast, which invariably makes her feel better.

As I mentioned in an earlier column, I not only had jury duty recently, but I served on another criminal case.

This one wasn’t quite as straightforward and it involved domestic violence. While I won’t go into the details of the case now (more coming on this at a later date), I will share how much I appreciated getting to know the other 13 members (with the two alternates) of the jury.

Even though we all were eager to return to our lives, we took the deliberations seriously and didn’t race to a verdict. We assumed the mantle of responsibility that comes with serving on a jury. We didn’t agree during the discussions, with one woman repeating that she was “sorry” she couldn’t join the majority. We assured her that, as the judge suggested, each of us should listen to the others while remaining true to our beliefs.

And, to end on a lighter note, while our flight was delayed for over an hour, I listened as a woman with a small dog spread out her blanket near a young couple.

Responding to a compliment about her dog, she spent the next half hour telling the couple how absolutely adorable her furry companion was. She interrupted herself to post something on social media, laughing that she posted a picture of her meal from Wendy’s just the day before.

“Isn’t that hysterical?” she asked. It’s something, I thought.

The man, who indicated he traveled every week for business, suggested how “sick and tired” he was of delayed planes. He planned to give customer service a piece of his mind when he arrived.

While I didn’t observe that interaction, I did watch as another man passed a one way exit where guards told him he couldn’t get back to the terminal because TSA had shut down for the night.

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By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

Even before the pandemic, stand up comics, who took to the air to entertain the rest of us with their clever observations, often spent considerable time describing the absurdities of airline travel.

The process, as each airline and each airport appears to have somewhat different rules, has become even more bizarre.

Each airline has its own baggage limitations. For some larger planes, you can take one carry-on and one personal bag. For some smaller planes, however, especially if you’ve bought the cheapest seats on smaller flights, which we do as a rule, you can only bring one carry-on. You can’t even get a boarding pass unless someone comes and inspects the size of your bag.

Once you have your boarding pass, you head to security with your mask on.

The first screener who checks boarding passes and IDs has to have one of the harder jobs. Everyone is trying to catch a plane, which means that, even if they are early, they are still under time pressure. Many feel the need to share their sense of urgency with people who fly under the radar in our lives unless something goes wrong. When these security agents do their jobs well, we expect it, and when they don’t, we are outraged, frustrated, annoyed and irritable. It’s a bit like being a referee or an effective traffic cop.

Anyway, we shuffle up to the line with the largest possible bag that won’t require checking. When we get to the front, we hand our ID and ticket over, wait for the cue, and then lower our masks.

I like watching people lower their masks. Many feel the need to smile, as if the person is taking a picture of them. It’s ironic because the photo from a driver’s license or a passport looks much more like a 6 a.m. mug shot than a, “this-is-me, this-is-my-face, I’m-about-to-go-somewhere-awesome smile.”

Every so often, someone is selected for random additional screening. On a recent trip, they checked my wife’s phone on the way out and my phone on the way back.

During that trip, one of the conveyer belts that enables the screener to look at x-rays of our underwear was moving especially slowly. Each time a new person approached the conveyor belt, that person could and sometimes did push his or her huge suitcase ahead of the ones from the people who were ahead of them.

Fortunately for me, I travel with a small but powerful force of nature, also known as my wife. She doesn’t allow dysfunctional systems to slow us down, even if that involves shaming people who are trying to shove their suitcases ahead of the ones on the belt.

My wife was so effective that the system not only worked as it should for the few minutes we stood there, but a TSA agent jumped in to reinforce what my wife was doing.

Once we get on a plane, the battle for overhead space begins, with the special people getting first dibs on that space while the people in the last groups get the leftovers. It’s so Darwinian: people who spend extra money are the Alpha Fliers, while those who fly economy get the scraps, with flight attendants telling them to gate check their allowable luggage, which will hopefully be waiting for them on the jetway when we arrive.

People jockey for position at baggage check, where they want to stand directly on a line with the ramp that delivers their luggage magically from below. I’m sure that magic requires considerable lifting and hefting from the people we rarely see.

The final competitive positioning occurs at the curb, where the faces of tired fliers often look much more like the pictures from their IDs than the faces they make at the beginning of their trips. The tired fliers stare at approaching vehicles, looking for their Ubers, family members, or buses to bring them back to their world.

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By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

Airports are funny places, if you don’t have to fly anywhere. In no particular order, I’d like to share some observations after myriad recent summer flights.

Cost of food and drinks: It’s not quite as high as the U.S. Open prices, but it’s pretty close. You can buy a water for the same price as you’d buy a case of 24 waters at a supermarket or a drugstore.

Jennifer Aniston still sells magazines: Every news store has numerous magazines near the instant sugar and the ways to improve bad breath. At least one, if not all, of these editorial products typically features Jennifer Aniston because, even at 50 years old, Rachel from “Friends” still helps sell magazines.

Perfect place for claustrophobes — yes, that’s a word — to feel claustrophobic: Despite the ongoing construction, LaGuardia still features incredibly close hallways that are reminiscent of former baseball stadiums, albeit without the smell of hot dogs or the sound of a crowd roaring to life after a home run.

Caste system in the air: We board by group number because that’s what the airlines, in their infinite wisdom and desire to divide us into the “haves” and “have nots” have decided is the best way to wring a few extra bucks out of its customers. So, naturally, those of us unwilling to shell out a few extra shekels — that’s the Israeli currency, but I put it in here because of the alliteration — have to board in group 9. What I especially love about this group, which is often the largest one, is that the airline workers rarely even say the number. After they board group 8, they’ll say, “OK, and everyone can board now.” Why even give us a number if we are “all the rest”? Just put “last” or “loser” or “cheap bastard” on our tickets and call it a day. Seriously, this group boarding system is reminiscent of the Hindu caste system, where the group 9 people are the equivalent of Harijans or “Untouchables.” Ooh, that was a good movie which had nothing to do with flying or with the caste system, although Nitti did take an unintended flight before he was waiting in the car.

Bags: Is it just me, or have the storage spaces on the airlines become smaller even as people lug two and three pieces of furniture, I mean baggage, onto the plane? Of course, the people in groups 1 and 2 could easily store a couch in the limited overhead space, while the group 9 crowd isn’t allowed to take a miniature backpack.

Pretzels or cookies: Really? That’s what the food has come down to on airplanes? No more, “chicken or fish” from the flight attendants. Nowadays, they seem magnanimous when they offer us a choice of carbohydrates. Sometimes, they even let us take one of each, but they wink as if we’re not supposed to tell anyone. Oops, did I just blow their secret?

Manipulative timing: Airlines finally seem to have mastered the art of under promising and over delivering. When flights leave on time, they arrive 30 minutes or more early. When they leave 30 minutes later than anticipated, they somehow arrive on time. It probably makes passengers happier to arrive earlier, but it makes the concept of “on time” less of an accomplishment. The airlines seem to have created their own timing curve.

Rating the flight: We’re barely on the ground before the airlines want to know how they did. Well, they arrived early (surprise, surprise); they gave the happy people in the higher groups of the plane the requisite pretzels; and they didn’t have time to serve drinks or pretzels to the underappreciated fliers from group 9.

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