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A Life in Plastic Baggies

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A Life in Plastic Baggies

Tag Archives: Oy

Becoming ‘That Family’: Adventures in Parenting and Flying

06 Friday Feb 2015

Posted by alifeinplasticbaggies in Un-fun Up in the Air

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Babies, Oy, Soapbox

Trip type: Personal

Airline: Delta

Route: BDL – MSP

Ah, the many joys of flying with a child. Where to begin? The ridiculous amount of items you have to pack? Standing in a never-ending line to check said items? Knowing that no matter what time your flight, you’ll disrupt at least a nap or a meal, if not both?

The biggest joy of flying with a child, of course, is the actual flying. We’ve flown with H basically every six months of his life: 6mos., 11mos., 1.5, and soon at just about 2 years. The wonderful thing about children this age is that they are continually changing, growing, and surprising you. Something that seemed insurmountable, unpronounceable, or simply unfathomable the day before is suddenly something executed with such practiced ease, you can scarcely remember a time you didn’t have a tiny person standing on your coffee table throwing crackers to the dog.

This also means that their demeanor, triggers, cheerfulness, and everything else can change in an instant, too. My child who was an absolute dream to fly with at 6mos. was a holy terror at 1.5…and this is our story.

En route back to Minneapolis from Hartford, we learned what it was to be “those people”. H had missed both a normal meal as well as nap time and things went downhill very quickly. It’s hard to comfort a child when you’re in a three-seat row and only have two seats. And when the seatbelt sign is on and you can’t get up. And when there is just no consoling to be had.

Basically, he cried for nearly an hour with nary a pause save to gulp air for more crying. We tried food, water, distraction, comfort, singing, iPads, a new diaper, pacing (once the light went off)…everything we could think of. I knew he was tired and I knew there was nothing I could do but wait him out: he’d either fall asleep from exhaustion or make me permanently deaf.

Luckily, the former won out. But not before I caught a few nasty looks from other travelers as well as overheard the woman in front of us ask the flight attendant if there was “any sign of it quieting down back there”.

Now, I’d like to pause here by saying that naturally, I have been annoyed by a child on an airplane. Who hasn’t? Particularly as I’ve aged and gotten closer to having a child of my own, I’ve tried to be charitable about it, especially when it’s a crying child (versus an under-supervised misbehaving child). That said, it grates on you. I get it. I’ve been there. I once flew from Amsterdam on a flight with a child who – I kid you not – cried the entire 8+ hour flight.

But here’s the simple truth I now know for a fact to be true: No matter how annoyed you are, the parent(s) with the child would do anything they possibly could to make it stop. The next time you’re annoyed by a child losing his tiny mind on your flight, please remember the following:

  • The parents know that it’s loud–it’s loudest next to their eardrum. Your exaggerated sighing is not helpful.
  • The parents know that it’s been going on forever–they are counting the seconds until the flight lands and they can escape your glare. Your reproach is not helpful.
  • The parents know that “some kids like X”–they have tried every trick up their sleeve and then some. Your suggestion is not helpful.

Here’s the thing about flying–it’s public transportation of a more expensive, annoying variety. You never know who’s going to sit next to you or what you’re going to encounter (this blog is testament enough to that). Like life, however, you have to try and make the best of it.

And for heaven’s sake, be nice to that poor parent. She wishes it was over, too.

At last.

At last.

Catch-up Vignettes II

01 Saturday Nov 2014

Posted by alifeinplasticbaggies in Boarding Blunders

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Oy, what rock did you come from under?

I’ve traveled quite a bit in the past couple of months but I’m behind on posting…luckily no disasters to report. Here are some highlights from September/October travel. Two trips coming up in November (including one over Thanksgiving with a baby)–get excited!

Nashville Broadway

My first trip to Nashville was fabulous – will absolutely be back

Recap 1: BNA // MSP

On the heels of my last trip, I was off to Nashville for a Junior League conference. After three intense days, my friend and League President Elect, Jen, and I were headed home on one of the earliest flights available Sunday morning. The weather was perfect, the skies were clear…and two flights were canceled. Luckily, neither was ours. Unluckily, all the cranky and panicked passengers trying to rebook kept coming to our check-in counter trying to get our flight rep to help them (rather than stand in the long line they were supposed to be in)…and she kept giving in.

Despite her repeated pleadings over the PA system that she needed to board our flight before she could help others, they just kept piling up…and she kept helping them. It was infuriating when it was five minutes before we were supposed to depart and she was still elbows-deep in the rebooking system. It was pretty funny, however, to watch all the passive-aggressive Minnesotans quietly queue up and then loudly sigh and stare at the hapless desk agent (self included).

SFO take-off

Taking off from SFO

Recap 2: MSP // SFO

Mid-October I went to San Francisco for one of the largest conferences I’ve ever attended. With over 140k in attendees, it is the stuff of my agoraphobic nightmares. The entire city is overrun and you’ll wish you had a BA in Logistics and Crisis Management. Or some really good anxiety meds.

With a lot riding on my attendance from an execution standpoint (the meticulously crafted Master Details binder wasn’t going to get there on its own, you know?), I needed the flight schedule to run flawlessly. Happily, my flight out was exactly on time…and filled with everyone from Minneapolis going to the conference.

If there’s one thing I get sick of hearing when I get on a plane, it’s “I’m so glad you’re sitting next to me!” This comment is not as lascivious as it sounds; rather, it’s almost always said by very large men who are thrilled I (presumably) won’t be using all of my seat…or any of my arm rest. It was a long flight out.

Home again, I’m here for another couple of weeks before it’s back to California and then out east for Thanksgiving. Stay tuned!

LAXadaisical

13 Sunday Jul 2014

Posted by alifeinplasticbaggies in It's Terminal, With love from the Tarmac

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Delta, LAX, Oy

Trip type: Business

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-LAX

On my definitive rankings of worst airports in the world, LAX is right at the top of my list. Even when things go smoothly, they are somehow laced with chaos and anxiety. I steel myself every time I enter that airport for the fresh new hell that awaits. This trip was no different.

The bright spot of flying to LAX is that the companionship is never lacking. From the woman in un-ironic cat ears to the usual omnipresent “”producers”” (double quotes because of how hard they try to act like you should wonder who they are), it was pretty great gate-watching.

Arriving in California, our gate wasn’t ready. Of course. Thirty minutes later, we deplaned and I attempted to leave the airport as quickly as possible which was hampered partly by us arriving to the last gate on the concourse and partly because there was construction everywhere (as per the usual. I have yet to fly to LAX and not encounter a construction project).

A colleague was picking me up down on the baggage level and it took her a good 40 minutes to even get into the pick-up area and then another half hour for us to find each other in the insanity that is collecting people at LAX. How can a city with highways boasting what seems like 16 lanes in each direction only have one lane for pulling over in the arrivals section of the airport?

Headed back to the airport Thursday, I thought we had left enough time to get all the way up from Orange County. Unfortunately, I forgot to budget time for the traffic shenanigans that are a staple of California–even at 5:30 a.m. We made pretty good time to LAX but I nearly bit my fingernails off as we approached within an hour of my flight and we were still fighting our way around the drop off loop to get to the Delta terminal. Unreal. I’d guess it took us a solid 20 minutes from arriving on the airport property to get to the Delta doors. Pre-Check is the only thing that got me through security and to the gate on time.

I’m just counting the minutes until my next flight West!

King of the World

22 Saturday Feb 2014

Posted by alifeinplasticbaggies in Mingling with the Masses

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hall monitoring, Oy, what rock did you come from under?

Trip type: Business

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-ORD / ORD-MSP

I’ve referenced it in previous posts, but it never ceases to amaze me how every air traveler seems to think he is the first, last, and only person to ever fly. The sense of entitlement, selfishness, and poorly mannered meltdowns should probably not even phase me at this point, yet I cannot help to be surprised and baffled by it. Behold the wonders of my quick trip last week:

  1. Right off the bat I was cutoff by a guy for the scanner at security. Frankly, I expect better from the Pre Check lane but I was proven wrong. With two lanes merging, I was about to get behind the woman from the opposite line when an enormous man stepped right in front of me. He knew he cut me off and didn’t make eye contact as he literally threw his weight around to get one body length ahead of me. When he was randomly chosen for a pat-down five seconds later, I gave him the biggest, sweetest smile and told him to have a nice day.
  2. At the Surdyk’s check-out, the woman in front of me loudly demanded to know if the crackers in her snack box were gluten free. Now, the box actually said the crackers were indeed gluten free (as pointed out to her by the cashier), but she “just wanted to check”. Then, “just to be sure”, she made the cashier re-pack the box anyway. She turned to me and said, “Sorry, I just really can’t tolerate gluten, you know?” “No, I’m pro-gluten,” I replied.
  3. At the gate, there was the typical salesman wrapping up a deal as we waited to board. These guys absolutely kill me. While I usually assume they’re faking a call to sound important, the gentleman I had the pleasure of over-hearing actually seemed to have real business…and a preoccupation with someone named Julie:

“Hey, bro–” (yes, he called his colleague ‘bro’. I’d like to paint the picture that this is a combed-over, short/stout 50-something man talking into a BlueTooth that he’s cupping around his ear and toward his mouth) “–so just make sure you copy Julie…”

“…”

“Yeah, so get that done, add the 10% discount and then send a note to Julie and copy me.”

“…”

“So send it to me and Julie and then we’ll get it done. Yeah, bro…”

Seriously, shoot me.

4. My favorite implosion of manners came at O’Hare on Friday morning, where I watched an epic meltdown between a middle-aged man and a barista. I was at a tea place (where, incidentally, I ate the worst muffin of my life) when I heard loud cursing as a cup fell from the barista ledge onto the floor. And then this exchange ensued:

Man: @#*&$ @#$&! And now I’ve scalded my hand! Can I get some ice for my hand?!

[Scrambling, ice handed over, someone comes out to clean up the floor]

Man: (As the barista is making the new tea) And why isn’t there any milk out here?

Barista: I’m sorry, we don’t keep milk out.

Man: Who would want tea without milk?! Can you make me a chamomile with milk, please?

Barista: Is 2% ok?

Man: Do you have whole?

Barista: No.

Man: Well then I guess that will have to be ok then, won’t it?

Yikes. Granted, I wouldn’t be very charming if I had just scalded my hand either but he was rapidly deteriorating and I could not look away. He then went on to list all the things wrong with their tea setup (the honey was nearly out, again there was no milk, there were no extra lids). He did glance over at one point and we locked eyes for a second. I’m pretty sure the look on my face was something akin to “Sorry you hurt yourself but you have got to get a grip and stop yelling at the 19 year-old making you tea with milk”. He looked away and then stormed off when his tea with second-rate milk was ready.

Looks like another magical year of air travel is ahead of me!

Wide Open Spaces

14 Thursday Mar 2013

Posted by alifeinplasticbaggies in With love from the Tarmac

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Delta, Oy, TSA is my fave

Trip type: Personal

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-TUL

By the time I realized my last flight pre-baby would be to Tulsa, Oklahoma, it was too late to plan anything slightly more…glamorous…in its stead. Not that the purpose of the trip wasn’t worthy–we were attending some very good friends’ wedding in the bride’s home state–but the Southern Plains weren’t high on my list for a final excursion.

I knew when I saw we were boarding out of MSP’s A gate that it was going to be a small flight. The A gate is sort of the end of the MSP airport line and usually where you can find regional flights on teeny planes to places that aren’t quite as desirable/populated/connection-worthy as other locales. My assumptions were proven correct when we showed up to A6 with its 10 chairs and saw a lovely quartet in head-to-toe camo apparel discussing the latest copy of Guns & Ammo. Clearly my people.

The flight went smoothly enough and in less than two hours we found ourselves in Tulsa. You know the song (the Oklahoma song) with the bit about “where the wind comes whistling down the plain”? I can’t confirm I actually heard the wind whistle but I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a tumbleweed across the Tarmac:

Looking lively on the Tulsa Tarmac

Looking lively on the Tulsa Tarmac

Seeing these surroundings, you’ll understand the surprise I felt when the pilot came on to say that we’d be parked for a little while because both grounds crews were busy elsewhere. Yes, both of them. I know I’m kind of a snob but I still had to laugh at this.

Luckily, it wasn’t long before Larry and Bob* were able to bring us into the gate and we were off and running for a weekend of excitement. The wedding was a blast and I was thrilled to find I could still handle the hora in 3″ heels.

Good thing we got there two hours early...

Good thing we got there two hours early…

The quietness of the Tulsa airport was definitely appreciated for the flight home where there were probably as many TSA agents as morning passengers. Sheryl and I were fast friends though:

Me: Do you like boots directly on the conveyor or in a bin?

Sheryl: How sweet of you to ask! We like them in a bin.

Me: Works for me! At MSP they seem to like them directly on the belt but I like to observe the local customs.

Sheryl: “Local customs”! I love that!

Well, I am a charmer after all. After E and I went through the line I don’t think anyone else came through our lane for a solid five minutes. It was incredible.

Home once again, it appears I will be in Minnesota for the foreseeable future. It’s weird to look at my Delta app and see that after several solid years of at least one flight a month, it’s as wide open as a Tulsa Tarmac, but so it goes. All for a great cause.

If you’re concerned with how you’ll live without me/the blog for a while, fret not. I have some more archive posts up my sleeve and will post as I get them written. Plus it’s only a matter of time until there are posts about travel with a kid. I preemptively shudder at the thought.

*presumed names

The Unkindness of Strangers

21 Monday Jan 2013

Posted by alifeinplasticbaggies in Seatmate Shenanigans

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Intrepid E, Oy

Trip type: Personal

Airline: Delta

Route: BDL-MSP

Apologies for the delay on this post; it’s been a busy start to 2013!

The story I’m about to regale you with, from our flight back from visiting E’s parents in Connecticut for the New Year, includes another apology of sorts as I’ve been a little remiss in keeping you all up to speed…E and I are adding another traveler to the pack with a baby due this May. Whee!

(So yes, if you’re mentally counting, Phoenix, Montreal (and the failed trip to Montreal), and Tokyo all happened while I’ve been gestating. I’ll write a separate post on the perks and pitfalls of flying pregnant because it’s certainly changed my perspective on a few things. Like the fact that I should qualify for pre-boarding since it takes so much exertion to get myself on a plane these days.)

Anyhoo–we’re very excited for spring! It will definitely mean a bit of a hiatus on the ol’ blog but I hope you will forgive me. Just think of the posts to come of me flying with a child and all its accompanying crap! [Shudder.]

Back to my story. Thanks to our recent trip to Tokyo, we got upgraded on both legs of our Connecticut trip this December. I missed the free booze but E’s drinking for three these days so we got our money’s worth. The flight out went smoothly despite the long wait for some hydraulic meter to be reset and then de-icing but we arrived mostly on time and had a lovely and restful mini-vacation to the East Coast.

When we got our upgrade notification for the flight home, I was surprised to see that we’d been split up (2D and 4D). Upgraded beggars can’t be choosers, however, so we figured we’d just ask someone nicely to switch with us. Surely a Minnesota-bound flight would be filled with kind people who would want a pregnant woman to sit with her husband, right? Especially when we’re all in first class anyway? Wrong.

Assuming our best bet would be getting the person in 4C to move up to my seat in 2D, E told me to look as pregnant as possible as he asked the gentleman seated in the coveted seat. And he said no. No! Can you believe it? His father was in the first coach row bulkhead seat just behind him and he wanted to keep close. I mean, I guess I get this to a degree, but it’s a two hour flight and I was looking really pitiful. Sigh.

Onto contestant #2, the woman who came to sit next to me. I was already in my window seat and very pleasantly asked her if she would mind taking my husband’s seat in 4D, all while attempting to look as adorable and fat as possible. It sort of worked: like a true Minnesotan, I got a huffy, passive-aggressive, “Fine.” Really? It’s not like I asked you to sit in the last seat of coach that doesn’t recline. Or asked you to take a later flight. Or asked you to gouge your eyes out with cocktail skewers. I thanked her as graciously as possible and rolled my eyes at E when he sat down. People.

And finally, we were home and ready to start what will be a very exciting year. In addition to the addition, we’re also building a house and I’m becoming President-Elect of the Junior League of Minneapolis (erm, the day after the baby’s due date). So, you know, keeping things real. Real busy.

Next trip is this week actually–as President Elect-Elect of the JLM, I am off to a winter conference in Las Vegas. Gotta get the miles while I’m still able!

A Lesson in Patience

07 Sunday Oct 2012

Posted by alifeinplasticbaggies in Seatmate Shenanigans, With love from the Tarmac

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Delta, Oy, what rock did you come from under?

Trip type: Business

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-PHX

In case we haven’t already established it, I am short on patience. (And if you’re hoping from the title that I actually learned a lesson in the virtue of patience, you may be disappointed.) My recent flight to Phoenix for a work conference only confirmed that I should probably have my blood pressure checked.

At any rate. The ways my patience was tried–let me count the ways…

  1. No room at the inn. It’s happened to friends of mine, but I’ve never experienced the hell that is driving up to Terminal 1 and finding that all the ramps are full. FULL. Arg. Thank goodness I always go to the airport two hours early so that I had time to drive to Humphrey and then light rail it over.
  2. “Do I have to take my shoes off?” Security is definitely a place where you need to take a deep breath and tune out the idiocy surrounding you. That is, unless you’re in the PreCheck lane. I don’t think it’s inappropriate to expect more from PreCheck compatriots so imagine my annoyance when the woman in front of me clearly did not understand that she was in the fast lane. “Do I have to take my shoes off?” No. “Should I take out my laptop?” No. “Oh [after the metal detector goes off], but I need to take my belt off?” FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. The TSA agent did apologize to me for the delay (of 48 seconds) so that was appreciated anyway.
  3. A man of the book. That was how the guy across the aisle introduced himself when I asked what he did. How do I always attract these people? And why do I insist on talking to them?
  4. The classiest man on earth. My seat mate (with the middle seat) showed up with a sack of Chik-fil-a which gave me instant nausea just thinking about the stale french fry smell that was soon to encompass me. He made snide commentary during the entire safety film and pilot’s announcements. And then he fell asleep. As he was already protruding from his seat onto mine, it was only a matter of time until his arm started drifting over the armrest he had claimed and into my seat. After several attempts to politely jostle him, I finally just shoved his arm back onto him. But we weren’t done yet…as his sleep deepened, he began to snore and then to ever so slightly fall over onto me. Unfortunately for him, when this happened I was totally ensconced in my work and jumped, effectively scaring the crap out of both of us. (Don’t worry, he easily fell back to sleep and we got to repeat the process.)
  5. The Parisians are coming. Boarding seemed to go incredibly smoothly, which should have been my first clue that something was about to go wrong. The reason for the smoothness, it turned out, was that half our plane was coming from a delayed connection from France. Thirty minutes after we should have departed, the French arrived. Because I’m such a Francophile, I’m usually the first to defend them…but not this time. The lot of them seemed to have no idea that they’d been on a late flight and lallygagged their way onto the plane. Finally all aboard (and after telling one woman, in French, that no, she could not just sit in the seat beside me because it was vacant (my classy seat mate was in the restroom)), I was ready to roll…alas, we still had to wait for the French luggage. An hour after we should have departed…we finally did. Patience: officially tried.
Inc. 500 | 5000 Awards Conference

With the editor-in-chief of Inc. Magazine accepting the Inc. 5000 award

Luckily, everything was much better once I made it to Arizona (well, once I located the taxi stand. Not big on any extra signage in the basement of the airport). I spent my days going between the ice-cold conference rooms and the sweltering 100 degree oven that is Phoenix.

Then, E flew down Friday once his conference in L.A. wrapped up to escort me to the award ceremony of the Inc. 500 | 5000 conference (where I picked up my company’s hardware, see right) and we spent the following day exploring Sedona. All in all, a great getaway to the southwest.

I’m sure it’s been unbearable without my frequent updates so get excited–my next trip is Thursday as we are off to Canada for a family wedding. Hopefully my patience will not be further tried.

Sedona, Arizona

Lovely Sedona

LaLa Land

16 Monday Jul 2012

Posted by alifeinplasticbaggies in With love from the Tarmac

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Delta, Oy, vacay!

Trip type: Personal

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-LAX

Have you missed me? I’ve missed you, too. My apologies for the hiatus; after a big job change, there are no more monthly trips to Atlanta. I will miss the blog fodder but not much beyond that.

Griffith Park Observatory

Griffith Park

At any rate, don’t be too worried about the blog! There are a few more trips coming up this year that should provide good stories, starting with this past week’s trip to visit  our dear friends M and E in L.A.

After not traveling since May (I still can’t believe I went the entire month of June without going to the airport), I was nearly giddy to be back at the airport. (I know; I’m seeking therapy.) It didn’t last long.

As expected, the plane for L.A. was huge which meant the perfect storm of half boarding vultures and half people who were in lala land (either because they weren’t native English speakers or because they were en route to an island destination but hadn’t flown in a decade). Seriously, just people wandering aimlessly around the gate, asking each other what zone was being boarded and if this was in fact the plane to L.A.

The Getty, Los Angeles

The view from the Getty

Once aboard, I still retained some of the initial giddiness of the day and excitedly took stock of our compatriots. My analysis started and stopped with the gentleman across the aisle from E who was blowing his shirt in his t-shirt collar. No, not wiping his nose to alleviate an itch, legitimately blowing his nose. Attractive. (He would later play a game on his iPhone for about 40 minutes with the phone on full volume and no headphones in sight.)

Arriving on time, we were excited to get our trip going. Unfortunately, this was thwarted by the inefficiency that is LAX. (I will save the detailed rundown of how much I hate this airport for when I write a future post on airports I’ve known and loathed, but suffice it to say LAX is right up there among the worst.)

We taxied for what seemed like an hour but stopped short of the terminal. Several minutes later, the pilot came on to tell us that our gate wasn’t ready and that we’d have to wait a bit longer. Ten minutes went by and the pilot came back on to tell us that the plane occupying our gate hadn’t pushed off yet but was supposed to do so soon. After another ten minutes, the pilot finally gave us the good news that our gate was open and we’d be pulling up shortly. Excellent. We creeped over to the Delta terminal–we were so close I could see the open gate–but were stopped again by all the ground traffic. The pilot came on to apologize for the congestion and asked us to stay put while we waited for the other taxing planes and various baggage carts to go by. Sigh. Maybe the ground crew was in lala land, too, because it certainly didn’t appear as though anything was happening in a hurry. Luckily, it was only five more minutes until we were finally at the gate and awaiting the jet bridge.

Griffith Park, Los Angeles

Probably professional models.

Inside the airport it was smooth sailing to the sea of chaos that is baggage claim and ground transport and an amazing weekend in LaLa Land commenced.

Also, M and I are apparently LuLuLemon models (see right; photo credit to E).

‘No’ Nonsense

29 Tuesday May 2012

Posted by alifeinplasticbaggies in Fun with Security, Seatmate Shenanigans

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Intrepid E, Oy, TSA is my fave

Trip type: Personal

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-AUS

The word ‘No’ is one you hear frequently at the airport, especially from TSA and airline staff: “No, you can’t bring that bottle of hairspray in your carry-on”; “No, you can’t put your dog through the X-ray machine” (true story–I once saw a woman contemplating whether she was supposed to carry her Shih Tzu or put it on the conveyor), “No, you can’t jam your roller board under the seat in front of you if there isn’t any overhead space.” You catch my drift.

When the word ‘No’ comes from a fellow passenger however, things get decidedly more interesting. En route to Austin for a wedding last week, E and I observed two such instances:

#1: “No, I shall keep my jacket.”

My first story happened within 10 minutes of arriving at the airport (always a great tone to set for an afternoon of flying fun, no?). After scanning in at the podium, E and I queued at the third of four conveyors as it appeared that some altercation was going down on the fourth conveyor. In fact, the fourth conveyor was completely stopped, giving off a post-apocalyptic vibe with all its luggage and bins frozen on their way to the X-ray machine.

Beside the abandoned lane was a family made up of about eight 20-somethings and one old man who was probably in his mid-70s. E and I quickly pieced together that the issue was with the older man who was dressed in a full suit and not speaking English. The younger family members were animatedly arguing with him as he, apparently, did not want to remove his suit jacket. After finally coaxing it off of him several minutes later, he did not want to relinquish it. He just kept yelling what I can only assume was, “No, I shall keep my jacket!” Or something to this effect.

The polite Minnesotans all around this debacle clucked concernedly to each other as the perturbed TSA agent kept (helpfully!) interjecting that the jacket went through the machine or the man didn’t fly.

I don’t know what became of this group. We clearly needed drinks after the steep emotional toll of observing this all go down so once through security, we were off to Surdyk’s.

#2: “No, I don’t think I can do that.”

As is my usual wont, I had booked us in exit rows for both ends of the trip. Settled in to Row 9, the Delta agent came by to get our verbal confirmation that we would all be willing and able to help in an emergency situation. Seated to E’s left (on the aisle) was an older woman who, when asked if she could help in an emergency situation, answered, “No, I don’t think I can do that.”

Now, on the one hand I have to give her kudos for her honesty. She certainly didn’t look like she’d be the most useful in a high-adrenaline situation (there’s no way she could have done anything with a 42 pound door) so it was definitely for the good of the plane that she responded in the negative.

On the other hand, why the deuce did she book an emergency row in the first place?

At any rate, the Delta flight attendant handled the situation calmly. He took her response in stride and suggested another seat for her…which she turned down. Yes, it was at the back of the plane but oy. She then suggested that she’d stay in her seat after all but the flight attendant told her that she’d already said no and therefore he had to respect that response and move her. As you can imagine, there was no shortage of passengers willing to switch with her so it didn’t take long to get the whole thing sorted. Plus, her replacement looked much more able-bodied should any disasters have arisen.

After a whole lot of surprising ‘no’s, we were finally off to the capital of Texas. Yeehaw and whatnot.

Home now, several things have been reaffirmed for me:

  1. I could die happily if I got to eat Migas daily.
  2. E can cut a serious rug.
  3. I am not built for heat. I was mostly a melty pool of Minnesotan for three straight days.

Until the next trip, y’all!

Conveyer Belt Connoisseur

15 Sunday Apr 2012

Posted by alifeinplasticbaggies in Fun with Security, Sunday Fliers

≈ 1 Comment

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Oy, TSA is my fave

Trip type: Business

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-ATL

I spend a lot of time bemoaning that the situation in which I recently found myself flying was the worst ever (Exhibits A, B and C)…and then I somehow manage to top it. Perhaps I’m just consistently melodramatic, but I prefer to think there’s just always a new echelon of absurdity that was heretofore unknown.

This morning, the ridiculousness was found in the security line. To be fair though, I should start by prefacing that my amusement level was pretty low to start. Due to the fact I was headed to a partner conference commencing at noon on a Sunday in Atlanta, I was on the 6:30am flight out of MSP. My previously noted frustrations with Sunday fliers (omg the lallygagging!) was in full effect and only heightened by the fact I had to be subjected to it whilst in full work attire.

So. Here we go. After once again forgetting to use the TSA Pre-Check lane, I found myself in conveyer gridlock behind, presumably, the most clueless people at the airport. (Yes, I know I already had a tirade last week about Googling how to travel correctly, but the seven people in front of me did not get the memo. I was also annoyed to have, yet again, managed to pick the lane that came to a standstill thanks to someone with more liquid than solid in her carry-on).

Luckily, Roger had my back. Roger was the TSA agent assigned to my line who clearly LOVES his job. He happily plucked the 20 tiny liquid bottles from the aforementioned woman’s carry-on and packed them into a baggie for her, all while explaining the historical background of the liquid sitch. He then repacked a man’s three bins into two (helpfully interjecting pointers on how to put one’s shoes just so in order to maximize space). Sadly for him, when Roger got to me there was nothing to fix. He saw my Delta luggage tag and commented that frequent fliers make his life so much easier. I felt pretty smug…

…Until the TSA guy at the other side of the conveyer asked, solemnly, if I was on my way to a funeral. Maybe it’s time for more color in my workwear.

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