Among other things today’s generation will never know the great pleasure of is bringing a sack lunch to a park bench and enjoying their meal on a sunny day, watching squirrels run around, children frolicking on playscapes, pigeons fornicating and the homeless wetting themselves as they stroll along the walkways. It made one happy to be alive. The closest the modern group will come to those
Meals before deregulation in 1979
halcyon days is being on an airplane where people bring food aboard.
Prior to deregulation in 1979, the main trait that determined one’s favorite airline was service (apparently one of those words that disappeared from the English vernacular). Second was food. Yes, airlines once offered some pretty good food choices. And I’m not just referring those sitting in Rows 1-4, either (although in all fairness, in the earlier days of jet travel first-class was generally the first eight rows).
In those days my home airport was Chicago’s O’Hare International and my employer at the time allowed first-class on 
all flights over six minutes. On flights to the West Coast we would have five-course meals – soup, salad, a choice of several main entrees, dessert, drinks before and afterward…and even a 3-pack of cigarettes on the tray as well. Continental’s first-class service was so good it was worth the extra time of taking them to Los Angeles
Meals after deregulation, if you get one at all.
and then a PSA commuter flight (all jets) to San Francisco, if that was your final destination (Continental didn’t fly to San Francisco from Chicago in those days).
In coach there would usually be a choice of two entrees but there were other amenities – including seat and leg room – to make the experience not all that bad – or so I heard. Then, along came 1979, and with it airline deregulation. Airlines could charge whatever they wanted, flying wherever they desired and start up and shut down as they pleased. To keep fares competitively lower while trying to shovel cash into their bank accounts cuts were made. The main cost-saving feature was elimination of all meals – generally on flights under two hours – which constituted the bulk of flights within the United States. This led to the roving breadline-like shuffling 
during the boarding process. And the odors that would waft from carry-ons as these poor bastards made their way back to the Abu Graib known as economy would contain every food group imaginable, from greasy French fries to turd burgers.
I remember once taking a Southwest Airlines flight to Phoenix three days after I started Diet #12,343 of my thus-far total of 37,232. After we reached cruising altitude and I was opening my package of Nature Valley Crunchy Granola the heartless prick behind me unwrapped the most fragrant tuna sandwich I’d ever sniffed in my life. At that moment I wanted to conk the person over the head, snarf down her tuna sandwich and take my chances with the big barn bosses I’d no doubt encounter after my arrest upon landing.
Over the decades as more people were crammed into narrower seats the situation magnified itself. Fortunately one doesn’t need two hands to eat a sandwich because more frequent flyers are gnawing off their own arms and legs to give themselves a few inches more room to try and get comfortable. Meantime, however, the cabin smells like walking into an Old Country Buffet. The airlines probably have encouraged this because if people can smell food they’re probably delirious enough to think 
they’ve eaten it and won’t notice how lacking any meal service is on their flight.
Before 9/11 the curtains dividing first-class and coach were thick enough that those sitting behind it couldn’t see the large trays being served to each person sitting up front. Just like a thirsty soul wanders the desert and sees mirages so too do the meal-deprived masses sitting at the rear of the plane. They see those trays and in their minds they’re seeing surf & turf, Caesar Salad and cherries jubilee. (Oh, and a three-stick pack of cigarettes.) In reality the person sitting in 2A is probably eating shit eggs and dog sausages if it’s a breakfast flight but if the only sound you’re hearing is your own stomach pains that drown out the screaming jet engines a bowl full of rat feces would sound good.
What airliners really need are more bricklayers instead of sky marshals. After everyone has boarded the masons can seal up a wall between the two classes (three if it’s an international flight and has First-, Business- and Economy. That way the people “back there” won’t be tempted to come up front to smell the first-class passengers’ fingers – just for the food value. Stay behind the wall and let the yogurt eaters fight it out with the bologna crowd. What do the airlines care – they’ve made coach the modern-day equivalent of the Roman Coliseum anyway. But…I digress.
Even surrounded by dog shit, sedately eating lunch in a park was so much more refined than trying to do the same aboard a 737. Besides enjoying your meal amid the fresh air parks provide there’s something else just as important…there’s room!!!
Court orders now limit Al from eating picnic lunches in parks on weekends. But he still flies often and enjoys any tasty meal presented to him. He also enjoys his travel column, which appears here every Monday.
