HEALTH RISKS WHILE FLYING

Think air travel is just about delays and lost luggage?  Your body has other plans.

Forget plane crashes and fights about who gets the armrest.  If you survive TSA, a middle seat, and boarding group 9, now you have to make it through the flight itself without your body unraveling like cheap luggage on a baggage carousel.

Let’s start with Deep Vein Thrombosis, or what they call the “Deadly Window Seat Special.”  You sit there for five hours without moving (thanks, beverage cart), and your blood turns sluggish, like airport Wi-Fi during a gate change.  Congratulations — you’re now flying DVT Airlines.  The longer the flight, the better your odds of a one-way ticket to the ER.  Solution:  get up every hour or so and walk.  And drink lots of water.

Feeling thirsty?  You should be.  Aircraft cabins at altitude are drier than the pretzels in coach. Humidity in-flight hovers around 10%, meaning your eyeballs are shriveling and your skin is turning into parchment.  Lubricating eye-drops and moisturizer should help.

Speaking of airplane air, did you know the cabin is pressurized only to the altitude of Denver?  That’s great but only if you're a bighorn sheep (the 787, A350 and A380 jets are an exception).  For the rest of us, the lower oxygen can make you woozy or give your heart a surprise cardio session.  Got COPD or anemia?  Check with your doctor before flying.

Then there’s the inflight ear torture, courtesy of barotrauma.  This is why babies start crying before landing.  As the plane descends, your ears feel clogged as the pressure builds. Pop. Crackle. Pain.  But don’t worry… chewing gum, awkward jaw-stretching exercises or giving babies a bottle will probably help.  Or buy yourself a pair of EarPlane earplugs.

Crossing several time zones? Get ready for jet lag, also known as time-travel-induced dopiness.  Your body thinks it’s 3 a.m. in Hartford, but you’re eating airport sushi in Tokyo.  They say it takes one day of adjustment for each time zone you cross.

And for you frequent fliers: congratulations on your elite status… and cumulative cosmic radiation exposure.  One transatlantic flight gives you about as much radiation as one or two dental x-rays.  Not glowing, but not nothing.  Trans-polar flights leave you the most vulnerable.

Add in poor air circulation, recycled germs, and some guy sneezing in row 13 — and suddenly that N95 mask doesn’t seem so paranoid.  Still feeling like a little nosh?  Too bad.  Your guts are rebelling too. Gas expands at altitude, so avoid the bean salad.

Flying doesn’t just take you places. It slowly breaks down your body in a pressurized metal tube full of crying babies and funky air.  But hey, at least your suitcase made it to Cleveland.

PS:  While train travel is my preferred mode, extended sitting enroute is still a problem.  But at least you can get up at will and stroll to the Café Car for some over-priced AmFood.  Try the cheeseburger.  It’s actually pretty good.