International travelers from the U.S. are often humbled by their airport and flying experiences overseas. Not all the time, certainly, but just often enough to make us wonder when some U.S. carrier is going to figure out that high levels of comfort and customer service count for something.

So there I was, flying a new airline for the first time, departing from a post-9/11 terminal from a destination not known for the comfort it affords arriving and departing guests.

Surprisingly, this terminal seems to have been designed by an architectural team that has actually flown in and out of airports. There were soaring ceilings, lots of space, and the ticket counters were right there, lots of them, where the taxis and trains dropped off passengers.

The staff I encountered was uniformly pleasant but with none of the scripted, phony ebullience that I've encountered on some carriers.

Security was right next to the ticket counters. This new terminal was built for hassle-free security, and my pass-through was effortless, even friendly, despite the fact that I was flying on a busy Friday night during a period of thunderstorms and delays.

I had heard that this terminal was special, so I arrived early to allow for some walking-around time before my flight. Notebook in hand, I started to notice the small innovations that make this terminal work.

The shops were interesting and well spaced out. The restaurants occupied a curved space, and several of the upscale fast-food outlets had computer screens so you could order quickly. My sandwich was made to order by a gentleman in a chef's hat who thanked me. This was a fast-food outlet. Special carry-on takeout cartons had been designed for those eating onboard.

Later, as I explored the gate areas, I realized that I could have ordered dinner from one of the computer kiosks and had it delivered to me right near my gate.

I started to notice customer service agents. They were not in one place with one long line. They were scattered about the terminal, where people might actually need them. I initiated a few "can you help me" chats and discovered that these were actual airline employees, not outsourced hourlies. They actually wanted to solve my pretend problems.

Then I started to focus on even smaller things, little innovations that made me smile.

There were beanbag chairs strewn about the place, and they somehow fit in and even added a touch of elegance to the soaring glass space. After all, flights are delayed, people get tired, so they can lie back and relax in one of these chairs.

I noticed a Fisher-Price playground for the little ones. For the older kids there was free, fast-streaming WiFi throughout the terminal.

I stood still for a moment, realizing that there was something I was missing, something I liked but couldn't identify about the place. And then it hit me. It was the soft, mellow music in the background, the kind of music you might hear in a Viennese coffee cafe.

This place was starting to soothe me, and I am never soothed in airports. Wait until I tell my friends in the States about this, I thought.

The gate agents and staff were all wearing black. I wasn't sure if I was checking in for a short flight or deep-tissue massage.

Staff was friendly without being silly. At every turn, I was handled politely, with a bit of informal style, nothing overwhelming, just consistent, caring service.

(It does interest me that the carrier's marketing department, in an unusual act of modesty, has announced that its goal is "bringing humanity back to air travel." I give them points for even knowing that humanity had departed the industry on an earlier flight.)

I boarded the plane and realized that the $25 extra I had paid for a priority seat had bought me the same amount of legroom some airlines offer in business class. But the pitch of the leather seats in all rows was more generous than usual.

Even onboard snacking had been evaluated and changed. There are those who fly this carrier because of the trans-fat-free Terra Blue potato chips. On red-eye flights, the airline offers "Shut-Eye," giving passengers access to hot towels and a stocked pantry.

To say that there was seat-back entertainment would be an understatement. Think flawless 36 channels of DirecTV and more than 100 channels of music, news and entertainment from XM satellite radio.

After the doors were fastened and everyone was ready for take-off, the captain emerged from the cockpit, stood in front of everyone, grabbed the microphone and personally introduced himself and his crew, saying what a "privilege" it was to be flying us that day.

Those of you who fly internationally may think that I was flying out of Singapore's Changi or perhaps Amsterdam's Schiphol. But no, I was flying JetBlue from Terminal 5, the old TWA terminal at New York Kennedy.

The flying experience aboard the Airbus A320 was fine, made finer by the legroom and seat comfort. The coffee was Dunkin' Donuts, and every passenger received a Dunkin' Donuts gift certificate. It was a nice tie-in and the best airline coffee I've ever had, with the exception of Jacobs in business class on Lufthansa.

It all adds up to a lot of little things. JetBlue got to design things from the ground up, and in doing so, it's almost as if they tossed out all of the old assumptions about terminals, aspects of air travel and staff training and started anew. They've made some mistakes along the way, but based on my initial experience, JetBlue is just a smoother, hipper, more comfortable way to fly in the U.S. than any of its competitors.

And they needn't worry about competitors copying any of the hundreds of small details that make this airline win virtually every consumer airline poll. For reasons few of us can fathom, great ideas in the airline industry seem to take decades to replicate.

Contributing editor Richard Turen owns Churchill and Turen, a vacation-planning firm that has been named to Conde Nast Traveler's list of the World's Top Travel Specialists since the list began. Contact him at rturen@travelweekly.com.