A New Yorker compares air travel to the IRT.

Nearly two years ago, I wrote a column stating my belief that southern Florida is the sixth borough of New York City. On a recent trip there, I was reminded how true it is.

As I sat on the airplane in luxurious coach, I couldn't help but be transformed to the time that I was commuting on the F train from Queens. The only difference was that we had more leg room in the subway.

There is something unique about a plane leaving a New York airport. Because if there is one stereotype that is true, it is that of the "pushy New Yorker." At no other airport does the pre-boarding call solicit 90 percent of the passengers surging forth toward the entrance door of the plane. It is a reflex installed by years of subway, LIRP. or expressway commuting.

Then, once on board, it takes twice as long for New York passengers to find and claim their seats, since without fail the first one on the plane was the lady sitting in 4B. Of course no one wants to check luggage, so you have people taking on footlockers and then being surprised and incensed when it doesn't fit in the overhead bin. It seems that a departure is not possible without a flight attendant and passengers exchanging words, if not blows, over the issue.

On every flight I have taken to Florida from New York, there is an elderly woman who believes I am her personal porter. She sweetly intones, "Could you put my bags in the overhead. They are too heavy for me." I used to oblige the lady because of my exceedingly good manners, but I no longer am so accommodating. The last time I did it, the bags weighed as much as I do and I threw my back out for a week.

Somewhere in the back of every person's mind who is over 40, air travel is associated with glamour. It was for those who were beautiful, rich and successful. The President and movie stars took airplanes. For the rest of use it was the train or an automobile. Travel time was measured in days, not in hours, for the ordinary person's time was not worth much back then. A vacation for working people meant a few days in Washington visiting the sights, or a week in the Catskills at one of the resorts, or just going to Rockaway every day. Working people didn't have second homes in the mountains or a condo in Boca. The closest thing most people had was a bungalow at Breezy Point.

Now, life is different. Everyone has traveled to Europe. People think nothing of taking small vacations every six weeks or so. Our children not only go to camp in the summer for a month, but also get to go on vacation at Christmas and Easter. We are a nation on the move to the next exotic locale. We imagine ourselves Hemingway in Paris or a Whitney on the Riviera. All brought about by cheap airfares.

However, to the generations who remember the mountains or Rockaway as their final destinations, travel by air is supposed to be different than the Long Island Rail Road. Waiting to board a plane should not be like getting on the bus at the Port Authority. We have arrived at a certain station in life and should not have to still be on the platform of the IRT.

Just like rush hour though, we have all arrived at the platform at the same time. Air conditioning and cheap airfares have allowed us to treat south Florida as a weekend retreat. A place to fly to on Thursday evening and return from on Monday morning. Some men even sacrifice and have their wife and children there all year round.

The arms of the "entitlement society" stretch from the mother on welfare to the elderly on social security. The corporate executive with his frequent flyer miles and the poor working guy with only five weeks of vacation per year. Everyone deserves something. Whether it is a rent controlled apartment or a television in every room or a cheap seat on an airplane to Florida.

But remember that cheap seat must also entitle the passenger to carry on four pieces of luggage, fifty inches of leg room, a three course meal and free drinks. "It is only what is rightfully mine," intones the New Yorker. Each and everyone of us are no longer on that subway platform. We are all in the first class lounge, regardless of ability to pay.

(The author is a real estate consultant advising owners, condominiums and co-ops. He welcomes responses in writing at PO Box 724, Old Greenwich, CT 06870 or by calling 203-637-5621.)