Air Travelers: Brace for Madness : Patience and courtesy can go a long way on crowded planes as bargain hunters scramble for seats.

It was a steamy July morning in Oklahoma, and my grandmother--by her own description--was dressed “fit to kill.”

Her native-of-Texas talk was peppered with such expressions. That one, I knew, meant fancy--perky hat, Sunday-best suit, white gloves.

After all, she was going to fly on an airplane. She was off for California. Five relatives accompanied her to the airport for the great adventure.

I remember how all of us lined up proudly near the counter in Tulsa.

I remember the strange, calm tone of my grandmother’s voice when she turned and said:

“I wish I’d brought the piano . . . my ticket is on it.”

My dad and I ran for the Buick. It seemed to me that we were traveling faster than we ever had before--maybe 50 miles an hour on city streets.

With a few screeches for red lights and two slams of the screen door at home, we made it. My grandmother never forgot a plane ticket after that episode. And, so far, neither have I.

Such merry madness would not work in this summer of ‘92; there’s too little room for error. In addition to the usual school vacation crowd, airports are jammed with bargain-rate travelers. I have yet to fly on a plane with empty seats.

Peak passenger numbers call for peak patience and consideration. A few personal observations and messages:

* To the woman in row 12 who started using nail-polish remover somewhere over Amarillo, Tex.: Don’t! That smell could gag a horse--as my grandmother used to say.

* To the 7-year-old, traveling alone, who kept shouting, “Geronimo!” and flinging his seat backward between Las Vegas and Albuquerque: Watch it! The woman behind you had coffee on her tray table. And then in her lap.

* To the flight attendant who rolled her eyes at the rowdy kid but resisted getting involved: Why? That uniform connotes some authority.

* To the man whose briefcase grazed my head when he hurried to open an overhead compartment in Seattle: Please use caution next time. The same to the backpacker whose pack had shifted in flight and came tumbling down.

Because noise--whether from snoring seatmates or whining jets--is part of air travel, I carry foam earplugs. They do not keep you from hearing taped music, or a film, or a flight attendant’s voice, but they dull the background roar. They also can make possible a good night’s sleep when you find yourself staying in a hotel with thin walls, whether near an airport or not.

Paperback books and magazines--especially something from home that you have been eager to read--can help pass the time in airports and on the plane. So can tapes of your favorite music, or language lessons. Books of word games, mazes and riddles are diverting for young travelers. Travel-size games are engrossing.

In this summer of ‘92, there are raggedly tank tops, cutoff jeans and thongs in the sky--and not just on beach-bound children. Restaurants insist that customers wear shirts and shoes; I think airplanes deserve the same courtesy.

In Denver, a blonde with stringy hair boarded my flight, wearing purple tights and a Madonna-the-singer bra top.

I could hear my grandmother laugh and say: “She looks like a dime’s worth of dirty ice.”