I Tried Summer’s Most Controversial Travel Trend — And It Was Surprisingly Peaceful

Whether you put together a delectable “snacky box,” scroll through the options until you find your favorite airplane movie, or get into a deep conversation with your seatmate (though maybe don’t), there are so many ways you can pass the time on a flight. But if you’ve been online as of late, chances are high you’ve seen a new flight trend, with a name that has everyone wincing: rawdogging. 

If you haven’t heard of the concept, please fasten your seatbelt at this time and prepare to be confused. 

Don’t go to Urban Dictionary for this one — the term has a new definition in an airborne context, and it’s kind of wild. The trend involves boarding a plane and, for the duration of the flight, not partaking in any entertainment. No movies, no music, no books, no journals, no sleeping. Some people take it a step further, refraining from any comforts like travel pillows or sustenance like food or water. 

What can you do? Stare straight ahead, maybe watching the animated airplane fly across the sky on the back-of-seat screen where you’re certainly not watching any movies. 

If you’re still clutching your pearls, rest assured: It really has nothing to do with “rawdogging” in its traditional sense. Instead, points out TikTok creator @etymologynerd, “At this point, more people are using it as a metaphor for doing something unassisted than actually using it with its original meaning,” making it a dysphemism of sorts. 

Still, the trend has sparked controversy all over the internet, in large part because some men seem to be using it as a measure of masculinity. “Just rawdogged it, 15hr flight to Melbourne. No music, no movies, just flight map (I counted to 1 million twice),” reads the all-caps caption of a viral TikTok from Australian house music producer Torren Foot. The comments are, as expected, filled with disbelief and a general sense of why would someone want to do this. 

Proponents of the practice, though, claim it’s not a bizarre practice in toxic masculinity but a productive kind of meditation. Still, the pros say to be wary — particularly of the part where some people don’t drink any water or eat anything during the flight. “A digital detox might do you some good, but all the rest of it is against medical advice,” Dr. Gill Jenkins told the BBC. 

So which is it? I figured the only real way to get a read on the summer’s most controversial travel trend was to, sigh, try it for myself. 

I didn’t go into my nearly four-hour flight from Barcelona to Ponta Delgada, Portugal, expecting to rawdog it. But when I boarded the plane, I realized there was just a plastic tray table where the screen for movies would usually be (thank you budget airlines). And, because it can be difficult and uncomfortable to fall asleep on planes, I wasn’t planning to doze off. Sure, I had a charged pair of headphones, a couple of pre-downloaded podcasts, and a book, but I was curious about the anti-appeal of the no-entertainment trend. So, I settled into my seat and set out staring straight ahead.

Given that there was no flight map to even watch the plane artificially blip across the ocean until arrival, that got old almost immediately. I pivoted to looking out the window, where I watched the rocky terrain shrink away for the first half hour, until all I could see was sky. Then, I marveled at how still the wing of the plane remained. I saw some text printed on the wing — “hoist point” — a phrase that stuck in my head for the rest of the ride. I thought of words that rhymed: foist, moist, joist.

I tried to count how many clouds I could see, which was obviously fruitless, and spotted one that looked exactly like a pig frolicking through the sky. I thought of my hazy disappointment as a child when I first found out that clouds weren’t bouncy bubbles but gaseous bundles. But now, I found myself appreciating how cool it really is to look out the window and see what it looks like to be encompassed by clouds. 

Mostly, I thought of how I never usually notice these things while traveling, save for the few minutes after takeoff and before landing when I look out the window. (I will note, I do think this acute awareness of flying through air may not be beneficial for someone with flight anxiety.)

This time, rather than measuring my flight in movie lengths or pages read, I measured it in pretty much nothing at all. I was a little bored, sure, in that I was often staring into space, but I wasn’t nearly as antsy as I’d anticipated. I thought about a risky text I’d sent and had some existential thoughts about my birthday coming next week. It felt right to have lofty thoughts while tens of thousands of feet in the air, and it was surprisingly peaceful to lean into my stream of consciousness and just see how I’d entertain myself without any external distractions. 

I was firmly not in the camp of refraining from eating or drinking during my experiment, so I sipped water throughout, but the in-flight food (a tinfoil paella that I would describe as edible, technically!) wasn’t tempting enough for me to take much more than a bite. 

The time changes made it somewhat difficult for me to track how much time was actually passing, so when the attendant announced we were beginning our descent, I was pleasantly surprised. I wondered if I’d miss my connecting flight (I didn’t) and got excited to read my book on the next leg (it was great). 

Would I repeat this experience for the entirety of another flight? Maybe, if I couldn’t sleep and forgot my book and there was no TV screen. But I will carry the sense of presence with me on future plane trips. When I got to Portugal and boarded my connecting flight, I appreciated the heightened awareness of how incredible it is to fall asleep in one country and wake up in another so much more.