Flight 3022, Now Boring

I remember when dad wore a suit to work and came home late. He would have his cocktail, and then we'd all have dinner. And I also remember back in those days that air travel was an event. That suit that dad wore to work was the large version of the one that my brothers and I wore as we boarded the plane. My mother was dressed for church, or a flight to Los Angeles. We could have been extras on "Mad Men." That was then. This is now. I spent a good portion of my Monday on airplanes. We flew from Denver to Las Vegas first. My son and I were in our T-shirts and jeans. My wife was the stylish one, in her black turtleneck and red shawl. Still, no one would have mistaken us for churchgoers or society gadabouts. Nor would any of our fellow travellers. We looked as if we might have stepped out of a Land's End web site, as opposed to the 1965 JC Penny Even our crew kept that feeling going. Short sleeves and khakis. The pilots wore ties, at least during the time they were wishing us well as we made our way up the aisle on the way out. When we got on board for our connecting flight to Oakland, we were joined by an equally shabby group, with the possible exception of a couple of gentlemen cowboys in their black Stetsons and silver buckles. An upgrade of sorts, if you were heading out to the rodeo. Times have changed. Air travel is not what it used to be. It's not an event, and for many it is now simply a chore. And that's how we dress: like we were going to do our chores. Next time I fly, I'm going to make an effort. I'm going to wear my best Hawaiian shirt.