Let me just
explain first off, I don't enjoy flying to begin with anymore. Besides the common complaints I share with
everyone else--too cramped, too much hassle with security, none of the fun
freebies like before--I have a severe ear pain (we're talking
cry-like-a-baby-ear-is-going-to-burst pain) during just about every
landing. I do all of the
"things"--take a decongestant before the flight, sip water, chew
gum--but there are times, about 50% of the time, when none of these attempts at
a "cure" make a difference.
So, to begin with, I look
forward to airline travel with the same enthusiasm and gusto that I would look
forward to say, another root canal.
But sometimes
other things overpower and prevail--like the opportunity to see my family on
Labor Day 2010. My Mom generously
offered up some of her inheritance money to bring us all together--including my
son and his family with 3 adorable granddaughters, my sister and her family, including
my 2 nephews and their significant others.
So, once again,
I was talking myself into a little root canal to get across
country--"Maybe this flight won't be so bad"--and I set about the
business of booking.
Not wanting to
take inconsiderate advantage of the fact that this was paid for, I looked for
cheaper fares and found a dandy one price-wise.
Schedule-wise, it was not thrilling; a red-eye flight out of Portland to
Houston, and a 3-hour layover in Charlotte.
Time difference included, it was a 17-hour traveling experience from
leaving Salem, Oregon on the HUT airport shuttle to Portland at 7:15 p.m.
Wednesday, after a full day of work, to arriving in New Bern North Carolina
Thursday afternoon, 3:30 p.m.
Sounds bad,
right? But ya know what? When the excitement of seeing people you love
takes hold, a fair amount of amnesia kicks in.
"Red-eye flight…no problem!
I can sleep on the plane!"
Everything in
Portland went fairly smoothly and I was beginning to feel kind of smug about my
economic and efficient choices. Proudly,
I sailed through Security with my 1 carry-on (no checked bags, thank you very
much!) without as much as a finger-wagging "Tsk-tsk-tsk" that TSA is
so famous for. I know how to bag my
liquids, by God! I ate snacks that I
brought with me and read my book. Saving
money feels good--feels so virtuous!
Since I was
done with security (savor these words because they come back up like
indigestion later), I took some time to reorganize and repack some of my
things. I filled my water bottle (for
the ear pain thing) and boarded up.
Oh...did I
mention the fact that Hurricane Earl was heading right for my parents' town
where we were all planning to come together?
This added a little bit of excitement to the mix as I wasn't sure if my
parents would have to evacuate and meet us all in Charlotte for the "shindig"
or if I was to continue on into New Bern as planned. We all had to just "wait and see."
Gee, I like an adventure!
Gee, I like an adventure!
The
plane-sleeping thing didn't work out so well.
For some reason, this time, it wasn't just the landing phase that got my
ears--it was pretty much the entire trip. I had pain so bad at times, I seriously
wanted to cry and thought I was
crying until I realized it was the screaming baby behind me--bet it was the
ears for him too, poor little guy. So
much for sleep.
So, I wasn't
real rested to begin with when I landed in Houston (5 a.m. local time) to look
for my connecting flight. But not to
worry, they had a "helper" at the gate to direct us. She took one look at my paperwork and said,
"I can't tell what airline you're on from this--do you have something
else?" Well, yes I did. And that something else was at the bottom of
my carefully repacked carry-on. I opened
it up on the floor, quickly rifled through all of my things--some of them
spilling out, much to the delight of other weary travelers waiting to get their
marching orders from our helper, who was, by now, starting to smile less and
clear her throat. Got it! "Okay," now frowning, looking stern,
she instructed, "You'll need to go all the way to the intersection, turn
left, and get on the train to Concourse A." I had an hour to get to my next flight. No problem.
Were those
Munchkins I heard giggling in the background?
Boy, I must be tired...
I went ahead
and filled my water bottle in case I was in for a long walk and started for the
"intersection." I turned left
at what felt like an intersection and began walking. No signs for a "train". I felt the need to get more help, more
clarity. So I went off to the side where a gentleman in uniform stood next to
an escalator going down. "Am I
going in the right direction to get to the train that takes me to Concourse
A?"
Pause. "Uhhh...well." Another pause. "I don't know...the only train I know about is down there
(pointing down the escalator) but then you'll be out of security..."
Wow. Okay...not sure what that meant. So I grabbed the first flight attendant
passing by and asked her if she knew where the train to Concourse A
was..."Oh yeah!" she said smiling brilliantly. "Just head over towards that flashing
blue light way down there (pointing in another direction, away from where he
had pointed)."
At this point,
an argument ensued between uniformed Uhh-guy and the flight attendant (who was
no longer smiling). I watched this
volley for a few minutes, then dared to interrupt, "Excuse me, maybe
there's an information booth somewhere?"
And she said, rather snippy at this point, "Oh, that's way back
that way (behind me) and it's closed."
I shared my anxiety over the time and not knowing which way to go and
she said, "Well yeah...you're losing time here and you just need to make a
decision, ma'am! And I guess I'd listen
to him (she gestured angrily at the
Uhh-guy) because I don't do
A!!!" At this, she stomped off.
I looked at
Uhh-guy and said, "Well, I wish you were sure about this," to which
he said, "Oh I'm sure!"
Uhh-guy becomes
Duh-guy...
By some
miracle, I found the train and got on.
And by some other divine intervention, I found Concourse A--lots of
stops and lack of signage ("Let's see...the map shows a hotel before A and this looks like a hotel, so
I'm going to stay on the
train...").
I got off the
train...to no signs for anything. "You look lost," one of the
security guys standing there says. I
said, "U.S. Airways?" and was promptly entertained by another
"This way/no that way" volley by the security guys. They all
agreed that I should go up first, so I did.
I had just 30 minutes to get to my connecting flight.
Okay, a little
ya-get-what-ya-pay-for lesson here.
Evidently, part of the cheap deal of this flight was the fact that part
of it was on Continental and the other part was on U.S. Airways. This meant that even though I had already
bought my ticket and gotten in line
at Portland to check in and through another
line through security, I got to go through another line in Houston to check in and go through security...again!!!!
The check-in
line was long, but I got my boarding passes and was in the security line with
15 minutes to spare. I bagged up my
liquids as I had in Portland and proceeded through. And then I heard that question that makes
every traveler’s heart go pitter-pat:
"Is this your bag here, ma'am?" spoken with splendid TSA
disdain. "Why yes, it
is." "Okay..." and she
did the eye-roll thing and started in with her
I-can't-believe-I-gotta-educate-another-idiot-about-this speech: "Are you aware that liquids can not
be in different bags?!! You're gonna
have to fit all your liquids into one quart-sized bag and throw everything
else away."
Stunned, I
asked, "How come this got through without any problems just earlier today
in Portland?" To which she became
haughty. "I don't know what those guys in Portland are doing
but here in Houston this is the rule." Big eyes were daring me to challenge the rule and the intelligence of these guys
versus "those guys". I had
always thought that Portland Oregon and Houston Texas were 2 different
worlds...and now that had been confirmed.
To her credit,
she stopped and took time out of her precious day to help me cram as many liquids
as I could into one bag. Then, as luck would have it, I heard
another one aimed in my direction, "Ma'am--is this your bag as well?!!"
My purse. The water bottle. Dang!
"Can we just empty it out? I
have this ear problem..." She
wanted nothing of my explanation...
"This'll need to be thrown away.
Oh, you can empty it alright,
but you'll need to do that over there and then come through security
again!"
Not on your
ruby-slippered life, My Pretty!
Down to 5
minutes. Had to buy another water bottle
and make my way to the gate. Ah...just
started boarding. Made it! They were up to Zone 2...I was Zone 4...
Zone 4 was up
and so was I. And now for the
announcement: "We just got word
that we have no more overhead
compartment space. Those of you with
overhead carry on need to get in this other line so we can check your bag onto
its final destination.
Okay...problem! I'm not sure of my final destination because
of the hurricane... It took a few more
conversations, volleys, and time, but
my bag finally got a colorful little "special tag" to accompany me on
the same plane.
I was pretty
much blotto by the time I reached Charlotte.
The news was pretty grim on the hurricane "front" so I went
out to the baggage claim area, thinking I'd be calling to get picked up by one
of my family there--I just assumed the "Do" was moved to
Charlotte. After a couple of phone
calls, I realized it had not moved
and I would need to get on the plane to New Bern if it was actually going to
take off.
So...you
guessed it--back through security! This
time, I emptied my water bottle and made sure everything would pass
inspection. Smiling wanly, which was all
I could do 3 times through security in one day, I made my way through their
contraption, which requires you to stick your thumbs on your head and get your
picture taken. Come on--really? They're making little TSA movies they can
laugh at on breaks, right?
I overheard one
of the TSA gents comment several times, “Upper buttocks area...yeah somewhere
in the upper buttocks area..." and I'm thinking, "Wow, what silly
conversations these TSA guys have while waiting for people to come
through."
"Ma'am?" "Ma'am?" I came out of my sleepless stupor to realize
she was addressing me. "I'm going to need to pat you down. Something came up on your picture we need to check." OMG! I
was "buttocks" babe TSA guy was referring to!! She asked, "Would you like somewhere
private while we do this?" Oh hell
no...I want everybody to see this!
I'm sure
everyone is thrilled to know that my butt passed the pat-down and I went on to
enjoy a hurricane-free couple of days with my family. At Charlotte, I said, "You know, I've
been through 3 airport security checks today and all of them have been different." "Oh that's funny!" said this particularly
jolly TSA gal--"They're all supposed to be the same!" Ha-ha-ha.
So I decided to
cop her attitude and laugh, laugh, laugh.
I haven't stopped yet. Visiting
hours are...
No comments:
Post a Comment