Monday, January 20, 2020

Up in the Air: Travels and Tribulations


Skip and I went to his annual company meeting in Seattle and decided that as long as we were traveling all that way from North Carolina we should definitely go visit his sister, brother-in-law and mother in Idaho.  We flew out of Raleigh at an ungodly hour to catch our plane to Chicago.

Admittedly, I am a nervous flyer.  I find it difficult to accept that it is safe to fly high up in the air, relying on people I don't know who have manufactured a mechanism that is,in my mind, too heavy to stay aloft, has too many moving parts to be certain that something will not malfunction, and has too many miles of service not to have some sort of mechanical break down.  At best, if and when that happens, we are inconvenienced with delays, but the worst...well, we know what that might be! It's that thought that keeps me awake and filled with worry.

Neither of us slept well the night before and were extremely sleepy when we got to the airport parking and shuttle service.  Thank goodness our shuttle trip didn't require a security check since I am sure that I would have had to go through the same ordeal that met us at the airport.  I made the grave error of wearing a sweater that was trimmed in metallic threads.  BIG MISTAKE!  You'd think that I was wearing an explosive vest.  I was pulled to one side and had to wait for a special agent to check me.  I was asked to remove several items of clothing, wanded, and then subjected to the whole body scan. Finally a female TSA officer walked me over to a sign with a colorful graphic of the human body.  Pointing at the sign, she explained where she would be touching me (inappropriately) and then proceeded with the examination.   I asked her if she wanted to buy me dinner first but she didn't find it amusing. She also closely examined a pin I was wearing.  She shot me a suspicious glance and rotated the pin to see if it was in fact some sort of dangerous weapon. Finally satisfied that I was no danger to anyone she handed me my pin, my scarf, and told me I was free to get my things and go to the terminal.

Once I put myself back together we hiked to the gate...a remote outpost at the very end of the terminal. Halfway there, my energy gave out and my muscles began to cramp.  I looked for volunteers along the way who might hand me a cup of water to cheer me on, but sadly, the marathon walk had no event organizers like one expects to see at most marathon events.  Evidently, we participants were on our own with the finish line still 10 or 12 gates away.  When we finally arrived at gate 3959 Z (or something like that)  I plopped down on the nearest hard plastic seat and whimpered that my most comfortable walking shoes were evidently not that comfortable any more.  My little toes were screaming at me and I was sure that there were a few raw spots on my heels.

Our airplane, a sardine can with wings, was outfitted with seat belts designed for Barbie and Ken.  Clearly, anyone over 100 pounds with an average-sized lap could not fasten this contraption without some major contortions.  I let the belt out all the way and still had to suck in my breath and tighten the glutes in order to fit the two sides together.  I watched as the flight attendant rushed down the aisle supposedly checking to make sure we all were good little passengers who had secured ourselves with our seatbelts and stowed all personal belongings in the above compartments or under the seats. She barely glanced in my direction and couldn't possibly see if I had my seatbelt fastened since it was hidden from view by my metallic sweater/exploding vest.  I finally decided that my look of discomfort was probably enough to assure her that I was wedged safely and securely in my seat.

Our pilot, an experienced man who knew how to keep me calm by not doing nose dives, loop-dee-loops and other such stunts, safely delivered us to freezing cold and snowy weather in Chicago.  I unwound myself from the cramped seat complaining that my back had a spasm that wouldn't allow me to stand up straight.  We were at Gate 1A (or something like that) and had a connecting flight at Gate 10,385 ZZZ (or something like that).  There were no carts or helpful attendants.  We had to WALK!  I don't know how other people could do it because my tongue was hanging out, my feet were barking louder than a pack of hounds chasing a fox, and I was sure that I might die somewhere between the Starbucks and McDonald's about 2 gates down from where we landed.

"Do you want something to eat?" Skip asked helpfully.
"Oh no thank you.  I'm still full from the stale cookie and cold cup of coffee they gave us on the plane," I answered sarcastically.

We had a two hour wait for our connecting flight so I was able to catch my breath and recover enough to limp to the next plane. From Chicago we had a long flight to Seattle.  The plane was full and we sat three across in seats meant for Lilliputians.  I'd like to know who the Marquis de Sade of airline seat designers is so I can personally thank him for my ever so enjoyable trip where I was so tightly ensconced in the seat that I couldn't get up or down without a great deal of effort.  Hence, I tested my bladder endurance and pushed myself beyond what most people could do.  It became my personal challenge. Could I make it to Seattle without using the lavatory?  I hate using in-air lavatories.  We always hit turbulence just about the time I walk in and lock the door. Trying to balance myself after sitting in a cramped position for several hours is bad enough, but having to engage in a half squat and keeping my focus while worrying about plunging to my death in that compromising position is even more stressful. Therefore, I try to avoid getting up from my seat to use the facilities.

Oh boy!  There was an on board movie that I hadn't seen.  I grabbed my earphones and plugged them in to enjoy watching something that should not have been shown on a small screen in a lighted cabin.  The scenes were too dark and I found that I only caught small glimpses of the action.  I missed about 75 percent of the movie and finally gave up in disgust.  It was time to close my eyes and get some sleep.  Just about then was when food service began in first class seating just in front of the flimsy divider curtain that hid nothing but the fact that we were in coach.  The fragrance of bacon and eggs assailed my senses exacerbating the fact that someone was offering me a glass of water and pretzels.  I decided to push the envelope and get another drink of water before realizing that it might make me have to go to the bathroom.  UGH!  What was I thinking?!  With another two hours to go in the air, I was beginning to feel that distinct feeling of discomfort.  By the time we landed in Seattle and taxied to our gate, I was in full panic mode running down attendants and passengers alike to get to the rest room.

The walk to the next gate involved picking up our luggage and changing airlines, so there was no casual stroll to a nearby gate.  We had to walk from one end of the airport to the other to find the remote outpost where our luggage was delivered. The airport diverted all traffic to the right wing of the terminal to take us downstairs.  From there it was another hike to the side of the terminal from which we came, just under the gate where we had landed.  I questioned the wisdom of this, particularly since we had to then hike on back upstairs to check in and go through the dreaded security check yet again.  By this time, even though I was told I had a pre-check tag that meant I didn't have to take off shoes, scarf, jewelry, etc. I knew better.  Of course I would set off the alarms. So, rather than subject myself to more humiliation I removed my offending items, placing them on the conveyor belt, and walked through the magnetic detector.  The alarm went off and I nodded knowingly.

"It's my sweater," I told the TSA security lady. She gave me a withering look and told me to walk through the body scanner.  I did so obediently and then pointed to the metallic threads. Another withering look and a pat-down then freed me to rejoin my husband who had dutifully collected my miscellaneous items from the conveyor belt and X-Ray machine.  Now came our sprint to the next gate at the other end of the world!  Oh, but that wasn't all.  Now we were told that the gate had changed and we had to walk even further.  Finally reaching the departure gate we were told that this plane could only be boarded by walking outside.  There was snow on the ground and freezing temperatures.  I bundled up in my coat, scarf and gloves as we followed the dotted lines on the outdoor boarding zone to then climb up a ramp to the airplane.  By now my feet were numb, not because of the cold weather, but because my blisters had blisters from all the walking.  I couldn't feel my toes at all which was probably a good thing, and my muscle cramps had taken up permanent residence in my calves.

A short hour later we were standing in the Spokane airport waiting for luggage yet again.  This time, the walk was in the other direction and just as long.  Fortunately, we were through with catching airplanes and only had to rent a car to drive an hour to Idaho.  I thought that a car rental service might cleverly locate just outside of baggage claim, but that would be a silly notion.  It makes far more sense for a car rental desk to be at (you guessed it) the OTHER end of the airport as far away from baggage pick up as it could be.  I do not usually use expletives, not even under my breath, but I might have thought three or four of them with every step I took.

By the time we actually got in our rented car, the snow was coming down pretty steadily and what should have been a 45 minute drive to our hotel in Idaho became a grueling stop and go ordeal of
1 1/2 hours.  I worried about spinning out on the slippery roads.  It was rush hour traffic and snow plows couldn't get through to rid the highway of the collecting snow.  We finally pulled up to our hotel to deposit our luggage, freshen up and then get back on the road to go visit Skip's family.  Needless to say, wine awaited us when we arrived.  Thankfully it didn't continue to snow until after we had left and gotten back to our hotel.

The next morning we awoke to a winter wonderland and cleared roads which made the drive back to the relatives much easier and certainly beautiful albeit freezing cold.  After two days, it was time to return to Spokane to catch a flight to Seattle and my jittery nerves returned to allow for more stress and anxiety.  Security check-in was much easier.  I wore nothing that could set off alarms. Still, my boots didn't make it through and I had to remove them because they apparently had a metal shaft.  Oh, and Skip didn't make it through with me because it seems like he had forgotten to turn in his car rental keys when he dropped off the car at the rental return.  The TSA security people didn't like this at all.  I was questioned by the agent asking who that man I was traveling with was and why did he make an abrupt departure from the security gate?  Just looking at him, one would easily be suspicious that he was a terrorist for sure.  His graying hair and open honest expression is a dead giveaway. I'm sure that both of us are now on some list.

The gate to our aircraft was located in outer Mongolia (or something like that).  When we got there we were told that the aircraft was slightly smaller and the overhead bins would not accommodate much in the way of carry-ons. They neglected to mention that the plane was an old-fashioned propeller style. The propellers were located just outside my window.  I was so nervous, I couldn't even talk.  I pointed at the propellers in shock and horror making some sign of distress while Skip reassured me that it would be just fine.
JUST FINE???!!!
I squinted and checked each bolt and blade to make sure that nothing looked like it might be loose or ready to fall off.  As the propeller blades began to rotate I cinched my seat belt tighter and prepared for take-off which miraculously couldn't have been smoother or easier.

Once back on terra firma I was breathing again and happily enjoyed a couple of days of respite before having to go through the entire flying ordeal to return home.  The hiking and hauling of luggage, the tight seats and discomfort, the security check-ins, the difficulty with gate changes, lack of sleep, no food service on the airplane and no time to eat a decent meal on the ground all culminated with our final leg of the trip from Dallas to Raleigh.  We were seated three across.  Skip was in the middle and a very large gentleman sat down on the aisle seat next to him.  I felt sorry for Skip who looked like a piece of lunch meat wedged between two slices of bread.  It turned out that our seat companion was far more interested in talking than sleeping or watching the movie.  His booming voice could be heard several aisles back and I knew that the dirty looks that we were getting came from that fact.  I tried to rescue Skip by asking if he wanted his headphones so he could watch the movie but he told me, "No.  You can use them."  (Why do I even bother trying to save him?)

When we landed in North Carolina a gave a silent prayer of thanks.  Once again we were delivered safe and sound. All in all, I can say that the next trip we take will be a driving one.  I don't care if it is 1 hour or 15 hours!  All I know is, somewhere there is a TSA agent who owes me a dinner and a flight attendant or two who owe me a very strong cocktail.