Before my second trip to the Philippines, a Dateline segment covered an investigation into airline emergency protocols. This was clearly appropriate to watch before a transoceanic flight. One nugget of alarmist wisdom: in the event of a plane evacuation, passengers in shorts or skirts have been known to suffer ankle-to-thigh burns after rubbing down the emergency slide. I’ve deliberately planned my flying uniform since.
These days, I always arrive to the airport in trousers and a blazer, and I am totally comfortable spending fifteen hours in an aisle seat dressed this way. As suits have returned in popularity, I have noticed debates on what to wear for a flight. I’d like to offer my own thoughts, not to justify my choice, but to offer a perspective. So here’s why I fly in a suit.
Flights are a unique human experience because it’s hard to think of other situations in which you are stuck with complete strangers, sharing and/or invading personal space for half a day. Prison comes to mind, but I hope to never report about that subject. If you’re going to spend that much time sleeping, dining, and excusing yourself to the lavatory for that long, it’s only right to do so with decorum. But I guess not everyone sees it that way.
On my most recent flight from JFK to HKG, an older gentleman at a window seat committed offenses of pure awe. Of the worst, he laid his feet at the headrest in front of him, and rather than politely asking to make way for his bathroom break, he would clamber over his aisle mates, feet on the armrests, his crotch facing the poor guy trying to watch Robocop in peace. To be one layer of dad-jeans away from making eye contact with some old guy’s balls was probably not what he had in mind for a tolerable flight.
I’m not saying that having his balls draped in worsted wool trousers would have made things better, but it was clear to me that this passenger treated the flight like his own living room. It’s fine to make yourself comfortable on your trip, but never should it come at the expense of others; they’ve paid far too much to have to put up with that kind of bullshit. Screw that guy.
My fellow cabin members may be nervous on their first flight, fatigued after saying goodbye to a long-distance lover, or hesitant to share that armrest, and being a suited passenger helps provide some comfort. It’s a nonverbal communication that says I will politely ask for a passing lane when nature calls, and I’m willing to help you with your suitcase if you can’t lift it into the overhead compartment. It’s a simple sign of respect, and for that, I’m willing to suit up.
My favorite argument in favor of this in-flight dress code comes from a wisdom of a man who would never put on a tie for a plane:
Louis CK presents a simple fact: the act of flight is an achievement that humankind that we’ve simply taken for granted. What it takes for us to balance above the clouds from continent to continent while we compile on-board movie lists and post our meals on Instagram is a miracle. And aside from sophisticated machinery, a safe fifteen-hour journey in air is accomplished from a highly trained, dedicated, and overworked flight crew, who dress their best to serve customers across time zones. For them I’ll dress with dignity.
I’m not telling you that showing up at the boarding gate in sweatpants will ruin everyone’s flight, but I think you’ll find it rewarding to ditch the drawstring for a nice shirt and ironed pants. It might not get you that free upgrade to business class, but at least you could make it a nicer experience for yourself, and perhaps others.
