"Among the casualties of the 9-11 terrorist attacks," writes Michael Walker in a Los Angeles Times Magazine piece last December, "was a concept as wispy and sentimental as the cirrus in the pale blue yonder: that flying was somehow inevitably linked with style, glamour and sophistication."

As Walker does, we can lament the general, hand-in-hand slide of standards and expectations, but my point is slightly different. A 747, awe-inspiring in its own ways, is not the grand ballroom of the Queen Mary. Holdover affectations of prestige do not compensate for the inherent discomforts of modern-day flying, they conflict with them. Even in business class. Faux-glamour extravagances might induce some guilty pleasure, but how much of your fare is budgeted so the galleys can be stocked with 10 varieties of cheese and nine choices of wine and champagne, when all you truly want are improved creature comforts and one or two enjoyable distractions? Less Leon Beyer Alsace 2002 ("intense flavors of yellow-skinned apple"), and maybe some wider video screens instead.

Meanwhile in economy, menus promise "authentic Italian minestrone with garlic and herb croutons." In much the way Burger King looks silly when it gives upmarket names to down-market food, the airlines aren't fooling anybody through puffy over-flowering. While passengers are picking out the stale croutons with skinny plastic forks, the real need is for bottled water, a wider armrest and, judging from the filthy carpets and scuffed sidewalls found on most jets these days, some token custodial work. High over the Pacific, the kabuki goes on, a game that appears more about impressing people than actually making them happy. And that's a game, with limited resources and the public's evolved mindset working against them, most airlines are destined to lose.

At least a few airline analysts -- and cynics -- will claim the whole service theater is a ruse, a needed way of gouging fliers into forking over absurd sums of money for the assumed privilege of a seat up front. How to quantify luxury, exactly? And as something of a corollary to society's own evolution, the class distinctions within a cabin have become much sharper in recent years. Those near the nose are snacking on wrapped-to-order sushi as stewards perform turndown service, while out back fliers are begging for something to drink and growing nostalgic for PeopleExpress. In terms of revenue, those coach seats are little more than filler -- college kids crossing the Pacific for $359 while it's six grand or more for a seat in Row 1.

But getting back to business, as it were ...

Anachronisms notwithstanding, all in all UAL's biz class is very nice, if hardly on par with that of the world's more esteemed airlines. British Airways is one foreign competitor now offering 180-degree sleepers both in first and business. B.A. has raised the service bar high, probably beyond the ambition not only of United but of all U.S. airlines.

To get the grading out of the way ... .

Check-in and preboarding: D (fascist, unapologetic carry-on mandate, chaotic Jetway clog)
Punctuality: B-plus (departure 10 minutes behind schedule)
Aircraft cleanliness and decor: C-plus (bland and tired; very clean)
Seats, amenities, and accoutrements: B
Food and drink: A-minus (tasty, if over the top)
Crew attitude and attentiveness: A

Critically for United, which remains in the throes of Chapter 11 bankruptcy, its staff seem energized and upbeat. While not meaning to echo one of those awful motivational plaques for sale in SkyMall, a crew's attitude can more than compensate for a few material shortcomings. It won't be the plastic cups or thickness of a pillow that stick in a flier's mind when employees come across as surly or uninterested.

Of course, as any frequent traveler knows, service on a particular airline can vary markedly. The enthusiasm of a crew, the cleanliness of a plane, the palatability of a meal -- each of these is subject to a host of variables. My readers, for one, certainly attest to the fickle facts of flight. One day I'll get a letter nominating United, American or Northwest for the Nobel Prize, and the next day a different letter is complaining how that same company shipped his luggage to Vladivostok and killed his cocker spaniel. In the end it's probably a wash. I won't argue that our nation's airlines are, or will ever be, in league with the Singapores of the world, but if nothing else, they're all about the same.

By the way, Condé Nast Traveler has voted Singapore Airlines "Best International Airline" for the 14th of the past 15 years. Travel & Leisure gave them an identical award for the eighth year in a row, while the U.K.'s Business Traveler International hails them "Best Airline in the World" for the 13th straight year. An acquaintance of mine who recently endured Singapore's record-breaking 18-hour nonstop from Los Angeles reports that the flight's economy section -- sold as "Executive Economy" by the airline -- is at least as roomy and satisfying as first class on many U.S. domestic flights.

Clearly the time has come for an Ask the Pilot readers poll. You are hereby requested to e-mail your choices of favorite airline, be it foreign or domestic, and/or your least favorite airline, with results to be published here in the coming weeks. Competing picks of the same airline will not cancel each other out, but will stand in separate tallies. The winner shall be presented with Ask the Pilot's prestigious Readers Choice Round of Applause, while the loser receives my dreaded "Golden Pretzel" award. Obviously this is an unscientific survey in which only those who choose to vote -- i.e. those most unexpectedly pleased or vindictively pissed off -- will do so, but I'm curious to learn if the results, even as they're rendered from extremes, might mirror the more canonical industry rankings.

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