Marrakech – Imagine it: no boarding passes, no frantic suitcase shuffling, no passive-aggressive gate agents announcing, “We are now boarding Group Z.”
Just you, a weekend bag, and a quick “to Tangier, please” as a plane door swings open like the backseat of a yellow cab in Manhattan.
In a world where drones deliver dinner and AI writes poetry, why does air travel still feel like a bureaucratic marathon?
If planes were like taxis, you could stroll up to the nearest airstrip, raise a hand (or an app), and ten minutes later be in the clouds on your way to brunch in Barcelona.
No baggage fees, no middle seats, no lukewarm coffee in paper cups pretending to be “premium.”
The fantasy is tempting. Think of the spontaneity! A fight with your ex? “Take me to Rome.” Need a change of scenery? “Anywhere with palm trees and no Wi-Fi, thank you.”
Breakups, breakdowns, or just a craving for croissants — every crisis becomes a boarding call.
Of course, reality has a pesky habit of crashing the party. Logistics, safety checks, and global air traffic control don’t quite fit the taxi model.
But isn’t it wild that it’s easier to order a pizza than to book a last-minute flight without selling your kidney?
Still, I can’t help but dream. A world where every runway is your road, where terminals feel more like Tinder: swipe left on turbulence, right on extra legroom.
A world where planes don’t just take us places — they respond to our moods.
Because sometimes, you don’t want a plan. You want an escape.
And wouldn’t it be lovely if flying felt less like a checklist and more like an impulse?
Until then, I’ll keep lining up at Gate 23 with my passport, my patience, and the hope that one day, the skies will be as accessible as the sidewalk.
So here’s to the future — where planes come to us.
And maybe, just maybe, we’ll finally get to live a little more in the clouds.
