So, about that flight home . . .
Oct. 15th, 2012 03:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
banjoplayinnerdSunday night was not all that good a night for sleeping. We packed everything up and got to bed about 11:30 and had to be up at 5:30 to meet up with our guest liaison for the ride to the airport. Six hours is usually plenty of sleeping time, especially if I can get a nap later in the day, but that night's sleep was interrupted by a leg cramp, and no sooner had I gotten that worked out and gotten back to sleep than my blood sugar started crashing. We had already packed the apple juice in checked luggage, so we had to go in and dig it out so I could get my blood sugar up. Thankfully after that I was OK until 5:30, but I still felt even less rested than I usually do.
We checked out of the airport, met up with Kate, who was kind enough to run us through a drive-through so we could get some breakfast, and made it to the airport in plenty of time. This was a good thing, because we had overpacked one of our bags and had a bit of a scramble to get the bag down below 50 pounds. Once that was done the wheelchair I had requested arrived. The assistant loaded me into the wheelchair, put my banjo in my lap, hooked the cane to the back, strapped my backpack to the back of the chair, and away we went.
I am not a big fan of the backscatter X-ray where you have to stand still for 10 seconds and make the Sign Of The Elk above your head while you do so. But, I did it anyway, got to the other side of Security Theater, put my shoes back on, loaded up my pockets . . . and then realized that I had not pulled the laptop out of the backpack before they sent the backpack through. This is a Major No-No and will subject you to a Big Time out. So, when the backpack came through, the technician informed me she was going to remove the backpack and wipe it down. No problem, right? I'm sure they are careful about electronics.
The laptop case tested positive for something. I have no idea what; the technician didn't tell me other than a vague "Oh, nitroglycerine or something." I don't take nitroglycerine and neither does anybody I know, so I have no idea how any kind of residue that could test positive for anything remotely interesting could have gotten on the laptop.
Because of this infraction I got to be the next contestant on Who Wants To Be Patted Down At The Airport. I got to stand - with no support, mind you - with legs spread while the TSA guy patted me down, up, sideways, outside and (just a little bit) in. People have said they found this experience humiliating; I wasn't humiliated so much as annoyed, at least partly at myself for forgetting about the backpack, but also for the whole stupid security theater apparatus that required me to go through this and would do absolutely nothing to keep a determined terrorist out of a secure zone.
To his credit, the guy doing the patdown was very professional and explained everything he was doing. He was also assisted by two other TSA agents; as it happens he was a trainee, and kept having to ask them questions like "Should I have him take his shoes off?" (He should, they said.) In fact he seemed like a very nice guy. He asked where I was going. I told him Seattle; he said he would like to come visit up here someday.
Finally the whole thing was over and I got to explain to my wife what had happened. We made it to the gate in plenty of time, checked in for the flight, got on the plane, stowed the banjo in its overhead compartment, and sat down to wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Do you remember the news a week ago about how Alaska Airlines' computer systems were down? Not one, but two, cables got severed somehow, cutting Alaska's computers off from the rest of the world. We got in the air in spite of the problem but were about an hour late getting off the ground. That wasn't quite so bad, although I'm glad I hadn't taken my diuretics before the flight started. Airplane restrooms are not my friend.
We landed about an hour late and walked into a scene of chaos. People were trying to catch up with connecting flights that were scheduled to leave about the time we landed. Others were at their assigned gate, waiting to find out whether the flight was still going to take off. About four flights were cancelled while we were in the airport.
And through all of this, somehow or another they lost track of our wheelchairs.
I stood in the customer service line, in part because it seemed like the easiest way to request a wheelchair (there were no attendants at the gate) but also because a simple request like "Can you send two wheelchairs to our gate?" would be a welcome relief for the overworked customer service representatives. About 20 minutes later a fellow with a wheelchair came by, and rather than potentially stick around for another 20 minutes, my wife decided to walk.
We went down to the baggage claim area, passing a huge line of people waiting to get through security. We got our bags, caught the shuttle out to Shoreline and made it home safe and sound. Tired, but safe and sound.
I had debated whether I wanted to fly to San Diego, or whether I should take my daughter up on her offer to drive me down. In the end I went with flying, as much because of the price of gas as anything else. (One convenience store we passed in San Diego on the way to the airport was selling regular unleaded gas at 5.00 fa gallon.) I enjoyed the trip, but the transportation experience left much to be desired. Someday I would love to go to OVFF< FKO or GAFilk, and when that happens, I hope to go by car. Well, actually I hope to go by high-speed rail. But I'm not sure I'll live that long.
We checked out of the airport, met up with Kate, who was kind enough to run us through a drive-through so we could get some breakfast, and made it to the airport in plenty of time. This was a good thing, because we had overpacked one of our bags and had a bit of a scramble to get the bag down below 50 pounds. Once that was done the wheelchair I had requested arrived. The assistant loaded me into the wheelchair, put my banjo in my lap, hooked the cane to the back, strapped my backpack to the back of the chair, and away we went.
I am not a big fan of the backscatter X-ray where you have to stand still for 10 seconds and make the Sign Of The Elk above your head while you do so. But, I did it anyway, got to the other side of Security Theater, put my shoes back on, loaded up my pockets . . . and then realized that I had not pulled the laptop out of the backpack before they sent the backpack through. This is a Major No-No and will subject you to a Big Time out. So, when the backpack came through, the technician informed me she was going to remove the backpack and wipe it down. No problem, right? I'm sure they are careful about electronics.
The laptop case tested positive for something. I have no idea what; the technician didn't tell me other than a vague "Oh, nitroglycerine or something." I don't take nitroglycerine and neither does anybody I know, so I have no idea how any kind of residue that could test positive for anything remotely interesting could have gotten on the laptop.
Because of this infraction I got to be the next contestant on Who Wants To Be Patted Down At The Airport. I got to stand - with no support, mind you - with legs spread while the TSA guy patted me down, up, sideways, outside and (just a little bit) in. People have said they found this experience humiliating; I wasn't humiliated so much as annoyed, at least partly at myself for forgetting about the backpack, but also for the whole stupid security theater apparatus that required me to go through this and would do absolutely nothing to keep a determined terrorist out of a secure zone.
To his credit, the guy doing the patdown was very professional and explained everything he was doing. He was also assisted by two other TSA agents; as it happens he was a trainee, and kept having to ask them questions like "Should I have him take his shoes off?" (He should, they said.) In fact he seemed like a very nice guy. He asked where I was going. I told him Seattle; he said he would like to come visit up here someday.
Finally the whole thing was over and I got to explain to my wife what had happened. We made it to the gate in plenty of time, checked in for the flight, got on the plane, stowed the banjo in its overhead compartment, and sat down to wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Do you remember the news a week ago about how Alaska Airlines' computer systems were down? Not one, but two, cables got severed somehow, cutting Alaska's computers off from the rest of the world. We got in the air in spite of the problem but were about an hour late getting off the ground. That wasn't quite so bad, although I'm glad I hadn't taken my diuretics before the flight started. Airplane restrooms are not my friend.
We landed about an hour late and walked into a scene of chaos. People were trying to catch up with connecting flights that were scheduled to leave about the time we landed. Others were at their assigned gate, waiting to find out whether the flight was still going to take off. About four flights were cancelled while we were in the airport.
And through all of this, somehow or another they lost track of our wheelchairs.
I stood in the customer service line, in part because it seemed like the easiest way to request a wheelchair (there were no attendants at the gate) but also because a simple request like "Can you send two wheelchairs to our gate?" would be a welcome relief for the overworked customer service representatives. About 20 minutes later a fellow with a wheelchair came by, and rather than potentially stick around for another 20 minutes, my wife decided to walk.
We went down to the baggage claim area, passing a huge line of people waiting to get through security. We got our bags, caught the shuttle out to Shoreline and made it home safe and sound. Tired, but safe and sound.
I had debated whether I wanted to fly to San Diego, or whether I should take my daughter up on her offer to drive me down. In the end I went with flying, as much because of the price of gas as anything else. (One convenience store we passed in San Diego on the way to the airport was selling regular unleaded gas at 5.00 fa gallon.) I enjoyed the trip, but the transportation experience left much to be desired. Someday I would love to go to OVFF< FKO or GAFilk, and when that happens, I hope to go by car. Well, actually I hope to go by high-speed rail. But I'm not sure I'll live that long.
no subject
Date: 2012-10-16 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-16 07:38 am (UTC)If I were President I would make it a priority to subsidize and improve rail travel in this country. But there are many reasons I will probably never be President, and that's just one of the more minor ones.