Jen Worick

There’s a new trend being discussed amongst travelers that has unfortunately been dubbed “rawdogging.” I never expected this raunchy term for condomless sex to be co-opted by those flying the friendly skies but here we are. It is meant to describe the folks—mostly men—who do nothing on a flight except perhaps stare at the flight tracker. 

Satan, I reject thee. 

I lumber onto a plane and make my way toward steerage, weighted down with the burden of unrealistic expectations and a huge tote bag. Aside from the Dramamine, lotion, lip balm, snacks, and fluids, I am currently on a flight with the following:

• Laptop for writing this blog post and reviewing clients’ materials
• Two notebooks—one for random musings and reminders and the other for notes on individual clients
• Two pens—duh
• Small cloth bag with yarn, pattern, and needles to start a baby blanket for my niece to be presented with love from this childless cat lady
• Phone and airpods for listening to week’s favorite podcasts or an audiobook (thank you, Libby), to watch few few episodes of a Netflix limited series I downloaded last night, or to listen to a favorite playlist
• Copy of my friend’s new psychological thriller (The Outlier by Elisabeth Eaves—check it out!)

I’m reminded of an episode of Seinfeld where Elaine and Puddy were flying somewhere and he just sat there staring ahead and she thought he was insane or inane. But maybe he was onto something. Look, I’m all for quieting my mind. When I recently flew to Texas to visit my mom—a fraught trip for many reasons—I could barely stay conscious on both flights. My body knew to flip the “off” switch, power down, and conserve as much energy as possible. But to be thousands of feet in the air without any options to entertain or educate myself? Without the possibility of productivity? 

No. Nope. Naw, dawg. 

Flights are an opportunity. Obvs, they may not be a room of one’s own, but they do provide multiple quasi-uninterrupted guilt-free hours to selfishly do whatever floats your boat within the confines of an economy seat: watch a crap movie (may I suggest the turd, Anyone But You?), journal or outline a book idea, binge watch the latest season of RuPaul’s Drag Race, sleep, sketch, daydream about your destination, get hammered, work on a crossword, read a YA mystery or beach read or romantasy, or knit a hat? The world may not be your oyster, but your flight definitely can be. 

There’s a saying that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, which as a lifelong learner I disagree with. But in my case, I think it’s true that you can’t teach them to perform no tricks at all. Woof.