The worst thing about having status with an airline and getting frequent upgrades is that you come to expect it. But, like money or satisfaction or life itself, airline status isn't permanent. And there may come a day you no longer qualify. For example, if you were a professional speaker and got tired of the constant travel and started concentrating on writing. Maybe novels — supernatural fiction — and a weekly syndicated column. That could happen.

You may have to travel occasionally anyway. You'd think the airlines would appreciate all those years you spent all that money with them. You do have a pile of frequent flyer miles. Though you seem to need more and more of them every time you book a ticket. First class, of course. You're just paying with miles. Then, suddenly, all those multitudinous miles are gone. Vanished, yes, like the dreams of the middle class.

It's hard to justify the cash price of a first-class ticket. You buy coach. Even that is considerably costlier than you expected. It never seemed that high when your clients were paying and the upgrades were free. Flying was cheap. Comfortable. A joy. Thanks for the wine. Wake me when dinner's ready. And, until fairly recently, the lounges weren't all that crowded. Now, you're not even a member. The mighty have fallen — like Lucifer, only he fell into hell; you'll be flying there. And, let's face it, you'll be overly dramatic about the whole damn thing. Vanished like the Dreams of the middle class?

You venture haltingly into the frantic skies. First, it's the airport hubbub of overpriced food and overcrowded everything. At the departure gate, there aren't nearly enough seats to accommodate the throng that will be jamming themselves onto that plane. You gaze longingly at the upgrade board, half-expecting your name to be up there. It's not. No matter how far down the list you look. First class could be empty and the airline wouldn't upgrade you. It's like you're lucky they even let you on the plane.

You did break down and pay for a slight upgrade. You've got a cramped aisle seat and the permanent line for the restrooms can't possibly reach all the way back to you. No cramped window seats were available. On the aisle, during boarding you'll brave backpacks, banjos and assorted bric-a-brac. And the last time any of the angry, abused, overladen, long-suffering passengers apologized — even for accidentally smashing someone in the face with a giant duty-free bologna — was probably 1973.

The ultimate fault, of course, is with the airlines for their sky-high bag-checking charges. So people are carrying on luggage large enough to hold a small car, gigantic shopping bags overflowing with who-knows-what, barnyard animals (stuffed, of course, though not necessarily), you name it. In fact, in many cases, you can't even name it. Boarding takes forever. Deplaning, when you're already running late for your connection, is glacial.

With network planning and hub-and-spoke optimization (airline jargon for "cram as many bodies into as few flights as possible"), everyone's annoyed — at best — and conflict ignites. The untouchables of boarding group 7 or 8 usually have to gate-check their carry-ons. Soon it will be their children. They take out their frustration on flight attendants and fellow passengers. The flight attendants — do NOT say, stewardesses! — dealing with this overcrowded, airborne, mass-torture now talk to passengers like jailers talk to prisoners.

We were never spoken to like that back in those distant, halcyon days when I was in first class. I did once have a flight attendant spill a full glass of water on me — without apologizing — at the start of a long, cold night flight. But, back then, that was the exception. Shades of flights to come. Welcome aboard.

Check out Barry Maher's dark humor supernatural thriller, "The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon" on Amazon. Sign up for his Substack at www.barrymaher.com.

To find out more about Barry Maher and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

Photo credit: Anton Shakirov at Unsplash