Tag Archives: Oy

Comparative Studies in Security Lines

08 Sunday Apr 2012

Posted by in Fun with Security, Holiday Hell

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Trip type: Personal

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-BDL / BDL-MSP

Holiday weekend travel, nothing better–amirite?! This past weekend, E and I did a quick back and forth from fly-over to Passover and I was unbelievably annoyed from start to finish. Look, I get that I am short on patience. And I get that I fly more than many, especially more than the infrequent flyers that come out of the woodwork around the holidays, but can I get a collective oy? If you don’t travel a lot, please save yourself a dirty look from me and Google “things to know when you fly”, Ok? Ok.

First things first: The Way There

After a 4am wakeup call, we were at the airport at 5:30 for our 7am flight to Connecticut and surprised to find very short security lines. Unfortunately, what was lacking in volume was made up for in annoyingness of fellow travelers.

In the security line, we were behind a family of four who had no idea what was going on. Understanding exactly half the Ziploc directive, they had their liquids packed in appropriately sized baggies…and several of them per person. Sigh. I amusedly watched the mother practically get naked in anticipation of the body scanner–shoes, socks, belt, coat, sweatshirt (I almost intervened to stop her when she decided she was bare enough)–and wedge all these items into one plastic bin (along with her three Ziplocs, purse and the shoulder strap of her duffel bag), as if she thought there was a one-per-person limit.

Breakfast of champions.

I then turned irrationally livid watching the girl behind me get pulled out of line and told that the full-size liquids in her carry-on were not allowed. “What? Really? But it says it’s travel size.” OMFG. E had to pull me away from the security area before my invective became too audible.

To be fair, however, unlike the second story I’m about to weave for you, at least these travelers didn’t delay me. You do not want to delay me at the airport. Ask E what happens if you walk too slowly on the moving sidewalk.

Plus, we were upgraded (see right), which always makes life a little better. There are few things I enjoy as much as free liquor. Sorry, mom.

Second things second: Home again

More fun in the security line on the way home. Although Bradley has become a pretty good looking and well functioning airport, it still surprises me in how it can be slightly behind the times (for example: the full-body scanner needs eight seconds to process. All the big airports’ machines take three seconds. Just saying.).

In the one line that accepted electronic boarding passes (see what I mean?), E and I got split up between a family of three made of a father and his two teenage daughters who, as teenage girls are wont to be, looked completely bored and judgmental. The three of them were flying to California, connecting through somewhere, and the father handed the security agent their cumulative six boarding passes in one pile. The security agent was not pleased as he had to sort the boarding passes to look at the three currently in question. He then asked daughter #1 (the one who had a cold and was incapable of sneezing without commentary about how sick she felt) what her full name was.

“Christine.”

“Your full name.”

“What?”

Please shoot me. After he got her full name out of her, he turned to daughter #2 and asked the same question. You’d think watching her sister go through this unbelievably complicated exercise would have prepared her but you’d be giving her a lot more credit than she deserved. Unreal. Remind me to raise children that are self-aware.

Kosher-ish

Anyway, we finally got through the slow x-ray machine (behind a gentleman who took his belt off…but then tried to carry it through with him…) and on our way to upgrade #2. And yes, I’ve decided wine is kosher for Passover.

Home. Finally.

One last story. Despite all the conspiracy to slow us down, nothing could stop us from an amazing feat of speed upon landing. We went from pulling up at the gate at 12:59 to being in the car and exiting the Gold ramp at 1:11. I kid you not. We were in the first row of first class and pulled in to D1, so we definitely had the fates on our side but we were pretty impressed with ourselves regardless.

Happy spring holidays to you all!

Sunday Fliers

05 Monday Mar 2012

Posted by in Sunday Fliers

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Trip type: Business

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-ATL

The expression “Sunday Driver“* kept popping into my head on last night’s flight to Atlanta. Granted, I’m perpetually in a hurry (in life) so any slowness makes me batty but last night was so ridiculous that I was convinced there was some sick twist on a flash mob happening all around me…except it didn’t have music or dance moves…just people moving slowly and stupidly. To summarize:

  1. The guy checking status cards where you jump the line at Checkpoint Two cheerfully asked, “Headed home?” No, thanks for reminding me.
  2. I was behind a woman in line for the full-body scanner who would not get out of the damn thing. TSA agent: “Ok, ma’am, you can step out.” “Are you sure? I don’t think it went.” He finally radioed up for them to scan her again just to get her out of it.
  3. All the remaining southeast-bound flights for the night were in one clump together at the end of the G Concourse. I’m sure this sounds good on paper somewhere, but in practice, I’m giving it an F. If you are not familiar with MSP’s G Concourse, at the end of it are gates 18-22, all on top of each other. And every single one was being used. It was like a refugee zone filled with people going to Florida.
  4. Everyone and her mother wanted to talk to me including in line at Starbuck’s where a 12 year-old struck up conversation by asking me, straight-faced, if I “come here often.”
  5. And then, of course, the inevitable flight delay is announced. It was only for 20 minutes but in a waiting area of Sunday Fliers, havoc broke out immediately with everyone lining up at the counter to demand information and recompense for their mental anguish.
  6. Although I lost the Battle of Elbow (honestly, I forfeited; the poor guy’s knees came right up to the seat in front of him), the flight was pretty uneventful. And then we landed and I counted three–THREE–people (and remember, these are just those I could see) who put their coats on in the aisle. In the freaking aisle. Because there aren’t 50 people behind you waiting to get the frack off this plane. No, no, take your time! I just want YOU to be comfortable on the walk up the jetway which is apparently through Siberia.

Arg. I’d also like to mention that we got in at 10:45pm. I think this explains (and justifies!) most of my irrational anger.

* One last note on Sunday drivers…they too were out in force! I almost got front-ended (can this happen?) at the toll booth on the Georgia 400 where someone realized he didn’t have exact change and had to switch to a lane with a cashier…oy gevalt.

Golden

18 Friday Nov 2011

Posted by in Fun with Security

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Trip type: Business

Airline: Delta

Route: ATL-MSP

I know you’ve all been anxiously awaiting the moment I solidified Gold status* for next year (no? just me? well, you’re here reading already so go with it.) and I’m glad we could all be here together at this exciting time as I tell you that it’s mission: accomplished. Cue streamers.

Solidified for another year.

Other than our collective excitement, I have more to share because, naturally, this momentous occasion could NOT be accompanied by an enjoyable experience at the airport.

Never one to underestimate Atlanta area traffic, I arrived nice and early for my 12:30 flight home yesterday. As I queued into the security line, a gentleman slightly ahead of me caught my attention immediately. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the strong scent of stale scotch, lack of socks with dress shoes or extremely rumpled suit that assailed me at first, it was my hearing as I was forced to listen to his discussion of the…um… entertainment’s ethnicity from the previous night.

“I thought she was Estonian but it turns out she’s from Chattanooga! I know! Just an ethnic-looking hill-billy!”

I raised my eyebrows disapprovingly at him but his eyes were so glazed over that I doubt he noted it.

Blessedly, the call ended shortly thereafter. Perhaps I spoke too soon about him not noticing me, however:

“You’re from New York.” (Looking directly at me. Well, mostly. His eyesight was none too steady.) “Are you going to New York?”

“No.”

“F***.”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you want to come to New York with me?”

“I’m going home to my husband in Minneapolis.”

Then he started singing “St. Juuuuudddeeee….” to the tune of “Hey, Jude” because he was just in Minneapolis at St. Jude Medical. I put on my best appalled face which was unfortunately accompanied by furious blushing due to our exchange.

Luckily, at this point it was his turn to scan in and then he immediately got preoccupied trying to jump the rest of the security line as his flight was in 20 minutes (finally confirming my suspicion that he had literally rolled out of bed and somehow gotten himself to the airport.)

It was mostly uphill from here, although I did have to sit next to a woman who was clearly a smoker and wanted an iPhone tutorial for most of the flight. “Can you believe I just got this? I have no idea what I’m doing!” You don’t say.

To another year of Delta adventures as I start the Gold-quest all over again…

*I’m fully aware that Gold status means approximately nothing, but it’s the little things that make one happy, you know?

The Battle of Elbow

14 Monday Nov 2011

Posted by in Monday Madness, Seatmate Shenanigans

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Trip type: Business

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-ATL

Much like the Battle of Elba in 1652 (AP European History geek), the Battle of Elbow is one that’s of critical importance whilst flying. Placing one’s elbow early is imperative. Especially as a smaller person, I find that if I don’t already have my elbow space claimed when my neighbor arrives, the chances of me getting it are slim to none.

A tad melodramatic perhaps (especially as I owe the AP the photo credit) but surely my fellow road warriors can commiserate.

I decidedly lost the battle on this week’s journey south. Although I arrived before my armrest sharing seatmate and had plotted my elbow-flag if you will, this was one of those delightful situations where my neighbor was too large for me to do anything but retract my arm altogether for fear of losing more than a place to rest my weary elbow.

For whatever reason, every time I am upgraded, even just to the exit row (as was the case this morning), I will always, always, get a seatmate who needs a little of my seat as well as his own.* Is this evidence that the travel gods are exacting their revenge for me being in an exit row since my feet barely extend under the seat in front of me in a normal row? Maybe. Probably. Definitely.

In case you are enjoying some schadenfreude, let me put the icing on your cake with two words about my friend in 11B: Sleep. Apnea.

It was a long flight.

*This post is in no way meant to be disparaging to larger people. I understand that seats are smaller than the average American. Discomfort just makes me grouchy.

(Desired) Death of a Salesman

07 Monday Nov 2011

Posted by in Seatmate Shenanigans

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Trip type: Business

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-ATL

If you know better than to engage a commercial linoleum salesman in conversation, you might be smarter than [someone who’s the same height as] a fifth grader.

This morning’s trip started off smoothly, despite it putting me back at the airport only 15 hours after I’d stepped out of it (more on that to come). Then I met Kurt (maybe with a C but I feel like it’s a K). And it went a little something like this:

Kurt: Good morning.

Me: Good morning.

K: Business or pleasure?

Me: At 6am it better be business. You?

K: Business. On my way to Birmingham to sell a public storage company some linoleum.

(Intuition tells me to say something non-committal. Curiosity wins.)

Me: Linoleum?

K: Yeah, I sell commercial linoleum.

(Intuition and curiosity spar again. Guess who wins.)

Me: Interesting.

K: It really is! (Oh boy.)

Kurt then regales me with some finer points of linoleum installation which I will gloss over for sake of your sanity and mine (apparently it’s very different to install in different climates–who knew?!). Then he segues into telling me how he helped a friend install some linoleum this weekend.

Kurt: Menard’s is really in trouble though! They didn’t wrap the pallet correctly so the roll  bursted through my pickup’s window on the drive home!

Me: (couldn’t resist) Bursted?

K: Yeah, bursted right through!

(In Kurt’s defense, dictionary.com does list bursted as a past-tense option of burst but I think we can all agree that it sounds stupid.)

Luckily/unluckily, Kurt’s coworker showed up to occupy the seat next to him at this point in the conversation. Luckily, it took Kurt’s attention off of me. Unluckily, it meant I got to hear in even more detail how the linoleum roll bursted through his truck’s back window and how he’s going to litigate Menard’s if he has to.

Needless to say, I was more than a little stabby by the time we hit 10,000 feet and I could finally plug in some music.

[On an unrelated note, there were two amazing mullets on my flight as well. One was a kid which I guess I should forgive and one was a woman who must have been 40-ish. She literally looked like she’d been let out of a time capsule earlier today with her complete 80s look of tapered jeans, high tops and a mock turtleneck. Unless acid wash jeans are making a come back in which case I’m screwed.]

Of Tarmacs and tears

24 Monday Oct 2011

Posted by in Monday Madness, With love from the Tarmac

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Trip type: Business

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-ATL

Just when I’d started to think I wouldn’t get any good blog material any time soon due to my last few trips going off with few complications, the gods of travel intervened…If you’ve ever read Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, you have a pretty good idea of where this is going.

Fun things that happened on this morning’s 6:30am flight:

1. TSA comedian joked that they wouldn’t be able to get a reading from the full body scanner because I was so short. Hysterical.

2. Six TSA reps visited my gate to check everyone’s photo IDs prior to boarding. Three people got a surprise pat-down. Guess who one of them was.

3. Finally aboard, I’m attempting to put my bag up (read: use my lacking upper body strength to more or less throw my bag toward the overhead bin. Ok, maybe the TSA guy was funny after all.) when I am hit in the head by someone trying to put her bag up across the aisle. (This is where the ‘tears’ part of this entry’s title comes from, btw; she really smacked me good. Don’t worry though, she totally got what was coming to her when I didn’t do the Minnesotan thing and say “That’s ok.” when she apologized. I’m sure she noticed the slight and was duly shamed.)

4. Finally. Let’s get this show on the road.

Alas.

After sitting on the Tarmac idling for about a half hour, the captain finally comes on to tell us that a valve that controls the air is stuck and maintenance has to fix it. We sit for about 10 minutes and then finally head back to the gate. At first we’re told it will be 20 minutes…20 minutes later we’re told it will only be 10 more minutes…this is followed by maintenance deciding it needs 15 more minutes to actually replace the valve (what had they been doing back there anyway??). Finally, we’re told it will only be five more minutes to get the final paperwork produced. Oy gevalt.

As you would imagine, about half the plane is now approaching Defcon Three. There’s a couple behind me going on their honeymoon (connecting to Cancun), the guy next to me is trying to go to Gainesville, and the guy two rows back was apparently going to The Most Important Conference of ALL TIME because it was IMPERATIVE he make his connection, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? Like poor Neil the flight attendant has any control over the damn valve. (Although I did shoot Neil an “Are you f-ing kidding me?” face when he told some woman visiting her granddaughter that “Delta will take care of you.” For the record: Zero gate agents met our flight.)

5. Finally-finally. We’re really going to go this time. The captain promises.

But we do really take-off. Yay! And for all that, we land only about 40 minutes late. They really do pad flying times.

6. Oh yes, there’s more. I get to the car rental center and head to grab a car at National (with status, you can just walk to any aisle and take a car). Inexplicably, National has all American cars…and Jettas. I always take a Jetta. So I find one, walk over, start putting my bag in and an elderly couple approaches me.

Woman: “Why did you choose this car?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Woman: “We’re trying to decide what car to get but I can’t pick.”

OMG. Is this really happening? The only contact I want to have at the rental car center is with the person at the exit gate. And even then I don’t like to make small talk.

Me: “You know you get to bring it back, right?”

Woman: “But we have to drive it for three days!”

I am dumbfounded but luckily she scoots away to admire a Kia. I did nearly run her over (accidentally! swear!) leaving the parking lot so I feel like we’re even.

And finally, I arrive in glamorous Alpharetta. If only Starbucks offered a shot of Bailey’s.