Why We Should Stop Working on Planes

How Reclaiming the Sky Can Save Our Sanity

There was a time, not so long ago, when stepping onto a plane meant stepping out of the world. Before the era of ubiquitous Wi-Fi and personal devices, the cabin was a rare, forced sanctuary, a place where the only thing expected of you was to simply be.

Then came the laptops. Suddenly, work was portable, where we could continue hammering away at documents, briefs, and slides at 30,000 feet. Now, with more airlines offering free or cheap WiFi, we can respond to emails and participate in text chains. As high-speed connections get better, video conference calls will soon make their way to our getaway cabins. This “movement” seems to be making the sky feel exactly like the ground, just as reachable as if we were sitting at our desks.

But I wonder: if we make the sky feel like the ground, what have we lost?

The Tyranny of Constant Connection

When you can do everything in the air as you do on the ground - email, news, Slack, documents- you start to feel a profound sense of guilt if you don’t.

I remember reading about a man, married with kids, who felt this compulsive weight. Every time he flew, he felt he “needed” to work. On the rare occasion he sneaked in a movie, he felt like he was committing a crime: Bad me! I should be productive.

It turned out his wife was feeling the exact same pressure. They eventually made a pact: when flying solo, they would agree not to work. They would nap, read a book, or watch a movie. For both of them, it was liberating. By removing the “should,” he turned his plane time back into a period of reflection and peace rather than just another high-altitude office hour.

Finding the “Still” at 30,000 Feet

I spend a lot of time on planes. For years, I felt that same compulsion to turn my tray table into a workstation. But lately, I’ve been trying to reclaim that time. I still do some work, but I try to keep a portion of the flight as protected time. I’ll watch a documentary I’ve been thinking about for years, or finally read that book that’s been sitting on my nightstand, or watch my favorite movie, Miracle, for the 856th time.

There is a unique kind of boredom that happens at 30,000 feet—or at least, there used to be. It is a generative boredom. It is the kind of mental stillness that allows new ideas to surface because they aren’t being crowded out by a constant stream of notifications. When we lose the respite of the sky, we lose a rare opportunity for our minds to wander without a destination.

Reclaiming “Plane-Life”

“Plane-life” used to be its own special thing, a distinct experience with its own rhythm and personality. Now, it’s just “ground-life” in a smaller seat.

The next time you find yourself boarding a plane, I challenge you to negotiate a “protected time” pact with yourself.

• Set a Boundary: Decide before you board how much time you will give to the “ground” and how much you will keep for yourself.

• Embrace the Respite: Download that movie or book you’ve been meaning to engage with.

• Allow the Boredom: Put the laptop away for at least one hour and just see where your mind takes you.

Let’s find ways to make the sky feel like a sanctuary again. I’d love to hear from you: What is one thing you can do on your next flight that has absolutely nothing to do with productivity?