Dear Mrs. B.—Chops and Tomata sauce. Yours, Pickwick.

In 1908, Edith Wharton enthusiastically remarked that “the motor-car has restored the romance of travel.” We can remember when we felt similarly about traveling by airplane. Of course, that was a long time ago. After the terrorist attacks of 9/11, intrusive new security arrangements added another layer of indignity and irritation. But even before 9/11, travel by airplane—outside of first class, anyway—had become more and more like travel by cattle car. The delays were interminable, the crowding insufferable, the food unspeakable. Everyone can recall times when passengers in an overcrowded plane scramble to stow their belongings “in the overhead bins or under the seat in front of you,” as the industry-standard mantra puts it. Sometimes a few obstinate passengers are still loitering in the aisle when the time for departure comes. “Please tak ...

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