Astronaughty
Leaving Saratoga Springs at 6:10am for a flight only an hour and fifteen minutes later from Albany was cutting it close this morning. But if you could have seen the look on the cat’s face when she realized I was going for a long time and would not see her until she was tanned poolside and drunk on in Phoenix, you would understand.
My airport traffic was managed in this order, which I would recommend to anyone running late: Check bag while car idles curbside; go get gas; attempt to return car to wrong area; call to get directions to return area; return car; demand expedient transport back to airport, as you have a flight to catch; finish contents of water bottle; stand in 3 person security line while Grandma Politzka empties her pockets of change and attempts to remove her shoes without tipping over; go to gate; board plane. Checking the bag while leaving the car unattended at an airport is not to be tried in Boston, where blinking lights summon authorities whose payroll exceeds a million dollars a day.
I had never imagined that by letting skinny professional woman and Grandma Politzka pass me while I chugged my water in the security line I would be jeopardizing my chances of getting on the flight for which I was ticketed. Four things happened that were major problems. A man was asking of the jacketed rube who matches your ID to your boarding pass which gate he should go to, and the beast tried to ANSWER him with absolutely no information at her disposal. She nonetheless went through a list of about ten possible gates that existed at the airport and attempted to divine which may be correct. Second, a woman passenger had been given by her airline two copies of the same boarding pass for a flight that did not originate in Albany, and thus could not pass. The passenger had sufficient verbal evidence that she planned to fly from Albany, but this is not legal tender to the pre-TSA lady. Then skinny professional woman did not want to be puffed. And of course, Grandma Politzka had no idea what to do. She had a fanny pack and many rolls of change, unrolled, to arrange on the table.
I have a system whereby I arrive at the X-ray belt ready to go. This requires first removing my jacket and readying my computer for removal from my bag or removing it outright from a rolling carry-on. The jacket gets combined with the bag while the line inches forward and shoes are untied, with the computer under one arm. Approaching the table I place the computer immediately in a bin and the bag/jacket combo following it. Then the shoes are flipped off and my wallet and cellphone go in them. I leave all change and hotel lotions in my pocket for speed and luck and, as long as you don’t touch the side of the metal detector, or have any weapons, you’re fine.
It does not require any right turns to get from Albany to Philadelphia, and I don’t think the airplane ever quite rolled to wings level. We made a big left-hand circle from terminal to terminal including taxiing. Nasplane.
Then the Embraer 170 wouldn’t start in Philadelphia. This is a fantastic airplane that is like a miniature Boeing or Airbus, with wider seats and big windows. This is the airplane I will use in the future. The woman behind me figured that it was a sign, the engine trouble, and quickly and with a good deal of announcement, read Proverbs. Then she made the common conversational blooper connecting our equipment malfunction to our fated demise on that very flight, and recounted what she was doing on September 11, 2001 when she learned that the world got worse. There was no point when overhearing this conversation that I did not want to shake her violently.
There were a lot of thing preventing us from getting to Indy today, not the least of which was 5 inches of snow that fell while we sat at the gate in Philadelphia. As we circled Indianapolis several hours later there were about 20 minutes of near silent flying through the low clouds with absolutely no sense of motion. By this point the Christian was snoring loudly to my great surprise and complete non-enjoyment, given how worked up she was over the blown starter motor.
The runway was snow-covered in Indy and the aircraft door was frozen shut for quite a while when we arrived at the gate after taxiing slowly around the whole field.
News related: Is wearing the diaper while driving 900 miles to intimidate a rival the bad part? Is it hard to be an astronaut? There are many questions left unanswered, and unasked, in this matter. Is anyone in Boston embarrassed about the thing? There’s always a line about the lite brites being in 9 other cities with no finger waving mayors and police commissioners.
My airport traffic was managed in this order, which I would recommend to anyone running late: Check bag while car idles curbside; go get gas; attempt to return car to wrong area; call to get directions to return area; return car; demand expedient transport back to airport, as you have a flight to catch; finish contents of water bottle; stand in 3 person security line while Grandma Politzka empties her pockets of change and attempts to remove her shoes without tipping over; go to gate; board plane. Checking the bag while leaving the car unattended at an airport is not to be tried in Boston, where blinking lights summon authorities whose payroll exceeds a million dollars a day.
I had never imagined that by letting skinny professional woman and Grandma Politzka pass me while I chugged my water in the security line I would be jeopardizing my chances of getting on the flight for which I was ticketed. Four things happened that were major problems. A man was asking of the jacketed rube who matches your ID to your boarding pass which gate he should go to, and the beast tried to ANSWER him with absolutely no information at her disposal. She nonetheless went through a list of about ten possible gates that existed at the airport and attempted to divine which may be correct. Second, a woman passenger had been given by her airline two copies of the same boarding pass for a flight that did not originate in Albany, and thus could not pass. The passenger had sufficient verbal evidence that she planned to fly from Albany, but this is not legal tender to the pre-TSA lady. Then skinny professional woman did not want to be puffed. And of course, Grandma Politzka had no idea what to do. She had a fanny pack and many rolls of change, unrolled, to arrange on the table.
I have a system whereby I arrive at the X-ray belt ready to go. This requires first removing my jacket and readying my computer for removal from my bag or removing it outright from a rolling carry-on. The jacket gets combined with the bag while the line inches forward and shoes are untied, with the computer under one arm. Approaching the table I place the computer immediately in a bin and the bag/jacket combo following it. Then the shoes are flipped off and my wallet and cellphone go in them. I leave all change and hotel lotions in my pocket for speed and luck and, as long as you don’t touch the side of the metal detector, or have any weapons, you’re fine.
It does not require any right turns to get from Albany to Philadelphia, and I don’t think the airplane ever quite rolled to wings level. We made a big left-hand circle from terminal to terminal including taxiing. Nasplane.
Then the Embraer 170 wouldn’t start in Philadelphia. This is a fantastic airplane that is like a miniature Boeing or Airbus, with wider seats and big windows. This is the airplane I will use in the future. The woman behind me figured that it was a sign, the engine trouble, and quickly and with a good deal of announcement, read Proverbs. Then she made the common conversational blooper connecting our equipment malfunction to our fated demise on that very flight, and recounted what she was doing on September 11, 2001 when she learned that the world got worse. There was no point when overhearing this conversation that I did not want to shake her violently.
There were a lot of thing preventing us from getting to Indy today, not the least of which was 5 inches of snow that fell while we sat at the gate in Philadelphia. As we circled Indianapolis several hours later there were about 20 minutes of near silent flying through the low clouds with absolutely no sense of motion. By this point the Christian was snoring loudly to my great surprise and complete non-enjoyment, given how worked up she was over the blown starter motor.
The runway was snow-covered in Indy and the aircraft door was frozen shut for quite a while when we arrived at the gate after taxiing slowly around the whole field.
News related: Is wearing the diaper while driving 900 miles to intimidate a rival the bad part? Is it hard to be an astronaut? There are many questions left unanswered, and unasked, in this matter. Is anyone in Boston embarrassed about the thing? There’s always a line about the lite brites being in 9 other cities with no finger waving mayors and police commissioners.
posted by Michael Flanagan at 10:45 PM
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