Another day in Chicago, at least this time it isn’t as cold as a witches’ nipple. The airport experience was a little nerve wrecking, nerve wrecking because if I arrived at the airport any later I would have missed the plane all together. Yup it didn’t matter that I sauntered in an hour earlier than takeoff because the lines stretched out onto the tar mat, OK I am exaggerating but you get my drift.
This could be why the FAA advises a 2hr window for checking in but I am a bad girl rules breaker!
In my mind I was thinking dammit Faith why did you sign up so late for dividend points because of course the frequent flyer folks were prancing right into check in all willy-nilly with smiles. The sleek business folks who occupy the first three rows of the plane in the plush seats who look at the rest of us farm hands as we plow our way back to the far end of the fields make me sick to my stomach, but only sick to my stomach because it’s not me. Some might call this jealousy but I call it….filthy rich people I can’t stand OK maybe it’s jealously!
Check in is plain and simple one of the most ass biting ridonkulous experiences ever created. Yes I get it! We are being pro active about terrorism but not with the schleps that are manning the fort. I mean most of the folks in TSA check in are in-step with mediocre security guards. And when I say security guards I mean upgraded high school hall monitors with flashlights. This is not to discredit them in any way. Now they have that wonderful semi cop uniform that’s blue with an official badge. Some even have those smart looking sweaters that scream hey I am important and can tell you where to stand, what to wear and when to toss out your 5oz (must be 3oz or below) exfoliating face scrub because that could be some type of liquid bomb used to dismantle the crew and bring down the plane.
Obviously I am a home grown whack-job who doubles as an insurance consultant fully equipped with a laptop and Macgyver tendencies ready to jimmy rig any and everything all Jihad style, um sorry no!
Sometimes it bothers me that I am treated like a common Gitmo detainee before boarding a plane on business. Complaining will get me no where and really I should be happy. This type of harassment is for my own good. Who knows the old man sitting next to me snoring with his mouth wide open was probably an undercover agent there for everyone’s benefit and protection much like the TSA worker on my way out of the airport responsible for making sure no one from baggage claim made it back into the flying zone. Of course he did that with his eyes closed and hand tightly gripped to a flashlight. If that doesn’t scream safety I don’t know what does.
It’s a good thing I didn’t have my 5oz exfoliating face scrub or I might have done some serious damage!
3 Pardon My French:
Yep, and I discovered on a flight back from Mexico that I wasn;t allowed to carry my 24 pack of AA batteries on the plane... obviously to prevent my making a Taser out of my headphone cord and Pilot Fine Point pen.
My favorite was when I was flying back from a trip and got checked three times for my ID.
Cleared the first checkpoint, walked 20 feet (with no one around me and no one else in line, and in direct line of sight of the first one) got ID checked again, walked around a corner (same situation as the first) and got checked a third time.
I really wanted to go off but if you raise your voice, you get tossed in holding.
Sad sad sad that as paying customers we get treated like inmates.
Of the total three times I've flown since 9-11, I've been searched three times. I'm wondering, do I have "The Look," or what!
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