Today's paper revealed that the traveling public's Enemy No. 1 is still wreaking havoc. With his usual low profile, Les LeGroom has kept quietly behind the scenes while coaching airlines with their major decision making. For those unfamiliar with the man, a brief history would be that Les became a highly sought after consultant for the airlines after he left the sardine canning industry in the early nineties with an unprecedented package. His professional forte of packing humans into smaller and smaller spaces is evident in a recent flush of new aircraft deliveries to major airlines. The new planes have the same cabin space as previous models except that they sport an additional dozen or more seats.
Les LeGroom is very open about his unwillingness to buy airline shares, softening his admission by claiming to be a simple fellow with simple tastes in stocks, airlines being too sophisticated for him. But don't let that down home facade fool anyone; Les is as shrewd as they come. He was the brain behind the disappearance of food galleys in favor of more seats, recognizing that passengers pay and pastries don't. And that brings up another area in Les' book of what pays and what doesn't; apparently there is some ugly water cooler talk going on at airline headquarters these days about the non-profitability of on board lavatories and maybe there needs to be some cutbacks there.
What credence should be given to this chatter? As odds would have it, earlier this year an independent journalist and blogger covering a paper products trade show in Foshan, China tripped over a small display of adult diapers, their waistbands imprinted with generic airline wings. Her inquiries were quickly silenced when she answered that she was not with a Mr. LeGroom. The booth's manager threw a tarp over the pile, saying "This prototype. No ATB orders today." A quick Baidu search answered her questions as to who the mysterious Mr. LeGroom was and that the acronym ATB stood for Airline Travel Brief. Even the mathematically disinclined can see where this is going.
Les championed the new slim seat design, which features cushions that are almost absent in their thinness. In some instances, two to three inches were taken off reclining positions. Airline spokesmen claim that this does not in any way cause the passenger discomfort because the actual reclining action is achieved through the seat's bottom doing the sliding and thereby not impeding your rear neighbor's knee room. Did that sentence make any sense to you? Believe me, I am as bemused as you. I got a bloody elbow from trying to understand this by trying to act it out in my Herman Miller chair. Maybe if the public had a steel rod for a backbone like Les LeGroom does, we could all be guaranteed a comfortable flight.
After piecing together a mental image of the Flight of Tomorrow, I can't help but think that Les is all about more: More travel-induced deep vein thrombosis, more chubby grannies staying home at Christmas, more adult diapers in the landfill (Oh excuse me, the proper term is ATBs) and more unhappy flying campers unsure of what exactly to pin their gripes on. They may catch on to what is eating at them at some point in the future when they are required to slather themselves with oil before boarding. After all, that application worked well in the sardine industry.
(A Note to Readers: After an earlier publication of this commentary, I received an email from a certain L.L. who politely informed me that I had misspelled his name. Correction: Les LeGroom should read as Less LegRoom.)