Sit Back, Relax …

and suspend all sense of disbelief. 

I don’t know about you, but as I have grown older – and perhaps a tiny bit wiser – what passes for reality looks less and less real. Now and then, for reasons that aren’t always clear, some little commonplace occurrence suddenly brings this scary state of affairs to my view in bold relief. It happened on a recent Delta Airlines flight – like a hammer clanging on an anvil.

I’m referring here to the little speech you almost always get from the captain just as the plane gets into the air. Along with all sorts of travel trivia – altitude, air speed and the like – and some useful information – like the ETA – we are encouraged to sit back, relax and enjoy the flight.

I beg your pardon? Do what?

I’ve just paid twenty-five bucks to check a bag and avoid the shove-it-in-the-overhead-bin slug fest, and I’m sitting there on a totally full flight, crammed – and I’m not all that wide – into a seat that “reclines” all of 1.5 inches, next to a guy with really big arms and ear buds leaking rock music into my personal space. And I’m asked to sit back – How?– relax –Really?– and enjoy the flight. This is a joke, right?

Obviously, this perky suggestion became standard pilot procedure back when air travel was glamorous.  Before the airliner became the Greyhound bus of the air – faster, yes, but not as clean or comfortable. Back when ladies (remember that term?) wore hats, seats on planes were wide enough to accommodate a normal person and Eisenhower – or was it William Howard Taft? – was president.

And here we are, in the 21st century, still getting this totally bogus suggestion from a person presumably intelligent enough to pilot a gigantic aircraft. You’d think they’d simply have the smarts and/or good taste not to bring it up.

But wait – there’s more! And it’s a little uncomfortable to contemplate. While it’s fun to bitch about the indignities of air travel – like bitching about the decline of English as we did in March of last year – the plain truth is this: We’ve done it to ourselves.

It’s the magic of the marketplace, folks. We keep on demanding cheaper and cheaper air fare, and we keep on getting it – to the point where most of the airlines are operating in the red and the travel experience has been reduced to something that contravenes the Geneva Convention. And let’s not even start on security lines, body scans or baggage claim.

So here we go … through the looking glass. Air fare is cheaper than ever, so we fly more than ever. But experience is worse than ever, so we complain more than ever. And, for old times sake, the captain comes on the PA and bids us sit back, relax and enjoy it.

It’s like taking drugs. Only not as safe or as much fun.

What does this have to do with marketing?

As usual, I’m so glad you asked.

What I see here is a bad case of cognitive dissonance. A brand completely detached from reality. Air travel has been Walmart-ized but the air travel brand got stuck years ago at “glamorous.”

Walmart, in a relentless drive to provide cheap everything, has reduced the shopping experience to a dismal, occasionally nightmarish, foray into an aircraft-hangar-sized building full of stuff.  Plus, you sometimes get to rub shoulders with truly scary fellow shoppers. (Have a look at http://www.peopleofwalmart.com if you want scary.)

No one at Walmart is chipper. No one at Walmart is cute. No one at Walmart can help you. No one at Walmart cares that you are alive. Just like air travel. And yet most people don’t complain about shopping at Walmart. True, there have been tons of complaints about sleazy business practices like the abuse of employees, but that’s another issue. I’m talking about the shopping experience. Some people actually seem to like it.

It has to do with expectations of the brand. What does Walmart advertise? Price. Period. Nothing about nice stores, nothing about good service, nothing about glamour or style. In fact they recently tried to imitate Target and go stylish – and it bombed. The Walmart brand is “low prices.”

The problem with air travel is our lingering expectations – fostered by the carriers themselves – of the brand. They want you to think the experience is going to be acceptable. Look at their marketing – full of smiling faces, glamour shots of planes against the sunset, evocative photographs of lush destinations, gorgeous business class flight attendants. Never mind all that – you’ll actually be flying in a cattle car with wings.

Ironically, but tellingly, people love Southwest,  one air carrier that sells mostly on price. Never mind that squeezing into a Southwest seat is every bit as physically uncomfortable as on Delta or American. Or that you have to line up in the terminal as if you were in third grade waiting to go to recess. Or that if you manage to get an aisle seat you have to sit and wait nervously, hoping someone really unpleasant doesn’t sit in the middle seat next to you – which always happens. None of that matters to most folks because they feel like they got a great deal. They weren’t expecting a nice experience. They got a low price. So anything beyond that is gravy.

So what’s our lesson here? Get your brand in line with reality. Or get reality in line with your brand. Either way, but brand and reality had better match up. If not, God help you! Would you want to be heading up Delta Airlines at the moment?

Neither would I.

On to cocktails!

And I’m not talking about those cheesy little airline bottles, either.

With the blistering heat of summer upon us, let’s go to tall and cool this time, and shake up a classic Mai Tai.

The mythology on this one has the original Trader Vic, whipping up the first Mai Tai in the 1940s at a Bay Area spot called Hinky Dink’s before he opened the eponymous Trader Vic’s.  Sounds plausible to me, but really, when you’re hot and tired, who cares where it came from, and why worry about finding a paper parasol. Just shake it up and drink it.

Irrespective of it’s provenance, it’s a tall, cool concoction that’s easy – maybe too easy – to drink. Enjoy but watch out.

One caveat is this. You’ll need orgeat (pronounced OR-git) which is an almond syrup and it can be tough to find on a retail store shelf. Fortunately www.kegworks.com has all the Fee Brothers bitters and other flavorings (among all sorts of other great cocktail-related stuff), and they’ll be glad to sell you some Fee Brothers orgeat.

You’ll also find recipes that vary quite a bit from the one below. Many of them call for half light rum and half dark rum. I like to us all light because it makes a less heavy drink, good for hot weather. But it never hurts to experiment. So have at it.

Mai Tai

• 3 oz. light rum
• half oz lime juice
• dash triple sec
• dash of orgeat
• dash of  simple syrup

(A dash is 6-8 drops, a healthy squirt)

You know my take on garnish, but you have my permission to go wild on this – limes, mint, melon cubes and of course a parasol. Whatever looks festive and tasty.