The economic rationings of CP Staffer James Collector
I always leave the airport feeling malnourished and thoroughly exploited. On my way out, I stop at a drinking fountain to suck down as many mouthfuls of icy water as I can before my teeth ache.
My next thought is food. Any sustenance will do, but barbeque ribs sound appealing. My mouth is watering as I wait for my luggage.
By the time my roommate picks me up I am ready to butcher a pig. He comments on my smell. The stale stench of re-circulated air everyone on the plane breathes over and over again. I tell him I need a shower and something to eat — quickly.
My roommate doesn’t ask why I didn’t eat anything at the airport before my four-and-a-half-hour flight back from the East Coast, or why I didn’t devour the on-flight meal. If he had, I would have responded with a simple answer. I don’t feel like paying jacked-up prices. Just because I go through security, forfeiting any bottled supplies in my possession, doesn’t mean I should have to pay $2.50 for water that costs $1. And just because I’m trapped like a sardine on a flight for four hours doesn’t mean I should have to purchase an $8 carton of airline cuisine that wouldn’t even be a hot commodity at a soup kitchen.
So I starve. It is not a hunger strike, it is economic rationing.
I could have brought a sandwich. I could have anticipated my entry into an area where my basic human needs to eat and drink is exploited for profit. I should have prepared for the inside , where security procedures have conveniently created a vacuum devoid of reasonable prices.
Any frugal American would do well to be aware of such areas. Airports, ballparks, clubs, amusement parks, malls and movie theatres all qualify. These are crime scenes where people get swindled everyday, for just a pinch extra.
It’s not necessarily a conspiracy. It’s supply and demand; capitalism at its finest. I will try to remember and bring a sandwich next time, as a full rack of ribs doesn’t fit in a Ziploc bag.
Why am I complaining about a few extra bucks? Don’t I know that high prices are an unfortunate and unavoidable aspect of the monetary system? I do. What makes me bristle is the corporate control over contained and overpriced areas.
I could accept high prices at a dusty gas station 100 miles from nowhere, handing over a little extra to the wrinkled old man who overcharges to compensate for his remote location. That seems fair. But the aforementioned areas are some of the most highly trafficked places in America. And it’s corporations who benefit.
A half-hour later I am at a chain restaurant, the first one on the drive home from the airport, staring at the pile of rib bones I just picked clean. As I digest, a heavy understanding of what it means to be a consumer in America begins to sink in. Consumers are little-more than hungry mouths with wallets. Corporations know this and simply determine where the hungriest mouths will be. It’s even better if the hungry mouths are confined to a restricted area.
The next logical step is to restrict all areas, maybe entire cities. Be the only food option for the hungry mouths and let the predictable human metabolism supply the demand.
Burp. all this economic philosophizing is giving me indigestion.
Contact Campus Press staff writer James Collector at james.collector@thecampuspress.com
