The Embraer ERJ-145: Brazil's Flying Torture Chamber

One of the few things in air travel that's improved over the past decade is the switch from turboprops to regional jets for short-hop flights. Flying to Indianapolis or Dayton in a little turboprop used to be a hair raising experience, with the pilot often reshuffling passengers from one side of the plane to the other in order to get an even enough weight distribution to take off safely. Even a little wind could turn a flight into a roller coaster ride, while more forceful turbulence made the flight a truly religious experience.

These flights have gotten a lot better since the airlines switched to jets, but the airlines can't help but ruin a good thing. Desperate to keep their businesses afloat until they're eligible to file bankruptcy again, the airlines are always looking to cut costs, and they've found that these regional jets provide a perfect opportunity to do just that. So, instead of using these planes exclusively on short-hops from flyover state to flyover state, it seems like the airlines switch you to one of these planes whenever they can't fill a 737. In recent years, I've found myself flying these planes to and from Philadelphia, Washington, Chicago and New York. That really sucks, because while the flight times to and from these cities are comparable to many short-hop flights, the time you spend on the tarmack sure as hell isn't.

The next time you fly to New York, look at your ticket. If you've got a 6:00 p.m. departure time from Newark or LaGuardia, you'll find your scheduled arrival in Cleveland is 8:30 p.m. Does it take two and a half hours to fly from New York to Cleveland? No, it takes between 60 and 90 minutes, but in setting the arrival time, they factor in the hour you're going to spend waiting for a runway after your plane pushes back from the gate.

Waiting for a runway always sucks, but doing it in the commuter jet of choice, the Embraer ERJ-145, is pure, unadulterated torture. The plane is made by a Brazilian manufacturer that apparently got into aviation during a slow period in sales of its bondage gear product lines. The Embraer's passenger compartment is about as wide as a casket, less than six feet tall and has no ventilation to speak of. The plane's seats appear to have been designed with the intention of causing permanent, crippling damage to the human ass if sat upon for longer than 9o minutes.

I got stuck on this plane for my return trip from New York yesterday. I should have known that I was in for trouble when I tried to check in with my e-ticket and got the message "special attention required." This usually means that I've been selected for extra screening. (I get selected for extra screening pretty frequently. Since I'm generally the whitest guy on the flight, I think they do this as a defense to a racial profiling complaint--they figure if they get me, then Muhammad, Ahmad and the other eight dark skinned guys they cavity search along with me won't be able to complain.)

Yesterday, however, I wasn't selected for extra screening. The special attention that I needed was to be informed by the person at the counter that my flight was cancelled, but that they could put me on an earlier flight. When I asked why my flight was cancelled, they said "mechanical problems." Uh-huh. In this case, "mechanical problems" translates as "if we put you in the 737 as scheduled, we'll lose money. If we shove you into the Embraer with a shoe horn, we're in the clover." In any case, into the Embraer I went.

Consistent with my enhanced profitability scenario, the plane was packed to the gills. There was no room left in the overhead storage, and I was stuck in window seat next to a guy who was also rhino-like, with my computer and carry-on kinda shoved under the seat, and with my overcoat in my lap. We pushed off from the gate, and sat. And sat. And sat. My ass started to burn, but I couldn't move. Getting up to stretch my legs was an impossibility. Even assuming I could get my fellow rhino to move over, I'd end-up hunch backed in the aisle with the flight attendant screaming at me to get back in my seat.

Finally, we took off. The flight itself was uneventful, aside from the fact that the guy in front of me did what the guy in front of me always does--yup, you guessed it, he reclined his seat. This further added to my misery, but was mitigated somewhat when the flight attendant took pity on me and gave me a whole can of diet coke, not the traditional thimble full.

Anyway, we landed and I got off the plane as fast as I could. I'm flying to Washington next week, so when I got back to the office, I checked to see what kind of plane I was on. Sure enough, ERJ-145's both ways. Lucky me.