I was back out on the road last week and had quite the trip. It started with a delightful man who drove me to the airport. He talked right through blaring horns and seismic potholes until the moment I walked into the airport. We saw eye to eye on everything but his driving, but it was still an enjoyable drive.
At the airport, I got checked in and headed to the security line. Did you know that TSA supervisors have the discretion to put unpublished rules in place about what you can carry aboard the airport? Well, I didn’t either.
It seems that at Dulles, personal items can’t be over three pounds, in spite of the fact that the airlines allow you to carry on items up to 40lbs. The screener explained to me that I could “sling this thing and hit somebody.” I assured him that I could not sling that hard enough to hurt anybody. At that point, he told me for some reason that he could kill me with his ink pen. I wanted to grab him by his tie and yell, “DRAW! DRAW that ink pen.” My Christianity restrained me and I did not do that. I complied with his guidance.
I had to run back down to check an item, but no worries, there was a full hour before my flight and it only took three minutes to get through security the first time. You well seasoned travelers are probably already laughing, but I did not see the problem, yet. I spent 15 minutes at the baggage check station to be told that the time to check baggage expired while I was standing at the counter. When the lady asked me if I could wait, I should have yelled, “NO, I CAN’T WAIT OR YOU ARE GOING TO MESS ME OVER AND I WON’T BE ABLE TO CHECK MY ITEM!” I did not scream that and I had to run my personal item to baggage claim and beg them to hold it until I returned from my trip. I actually promised to dance for Ms. Nancy when I returned to claim my item.
After dropping my item at baggage claim, I headed back to the security line. Twelve clown cars had just emptied before I got back up there and now, instead of three minutes, it took me 45 minutes to get through security. And that was after I talked a young lady into putting me into the front of the VIP line that included Sam Donaldson and Bill Bennett. I had no temptation to speak to these famous men within arm’s reach because they would surely make me miss my flight if they talked to me. I made it through security the second time with just enough time to sprint to my flight and nobody had tried to kill me with their ink pen!
I hauled it through Dulles like a scalded dog and got to my gate in time to see my plane buttoning up. On the bright side, I was not the only one. There were about twenty people at the customer service desk and we all had to wait 6 hours for the next flight. Most of them headed directly to the bar to drown their missed flight sorrows in their choice of drinks.
Since I live three miles from the airport, I called for a mini-van pickup and had dinner with my family. They dropped me off at the airport the second time and I got through security in two minutes and to the gate with 75 minutes to spare. I had been through security three times and had not been on an airplane yet. I am checking with Guinness to see if that is a record.
The flight I ended up on had only 16 people on it. The flight attendants put all the military personnel on the flight in first class. I was the only military personnel on the flight and they made quite a fuss over me. I made nice comments about them on the survey I filled out because they really brightened my day. Not so much for the TSA ink pen assassin.
When I landed at <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 />St. Louis, my first class experience was over and I had to report to the lost luggage office. I found my bag quickly and then I was off to get my rental car. Thrifty ran out of rental cars that night. I had to drive a silver Dodge Grand Caravan (just like my wife’s) as my rental car. My wife laughed at me when I told her.
Well, at least I wasn’t on a rented bicycle. I drove toward my motel and I made good time except for the ten car pile up that delayed me for 35 minutes. I had reservations at the Hilton at the Ballpark. Notice I didn’t say that I was staying at the Hilton because that would have been presumptuous. When I got to the Hilton, they said they didn’t have a room for me. I asked if they had not received my reservations. The gentleman waiting on me said they did receive my reservation, but they had no room for me. At this point, I thought, “God has to forgive me if I jump over the counter and slap this guy silly while recounting the rest of my day to him.” I just wasn’t sure how long I would have to stay in jail (if they had room for me – I think they were already taking guests from the Hilton) if I gave in to this temptation. After I counted to ten and reclaimed my Christianity for the third time that day, the gentleman told me that the Hilton was going to pay for me to stay at the Hyatt. That was nice after the rough day I had. Well, actually, the bad day was yesterday at this point because midnight had already passed.
I got checked into the Hyatt, sent the mini-van to valet parking (it had never been there before – I was so tired it told me that on the drive from the Hilton), and turned in for the night. When I called for a 5:30 wake up call, the lady actually asked am or pm. That question made me sad because it was 5:30 am that I had to wake up.
My wake up call worked and I went to make coffee when Murphy struck again! There was only decaffeinated coffee in my room! I have a pot of caffeinated coffee every morning, so this was a bit of a set back.
I stumbled to the shower and started getting ready. When I took my uniform jacket off the coat hanger to retrieve my trousers, there were signs of another problem. No pants! For some reason, Cammie decided to hang up this uniform top separate from the bottoms and amazingly, I did not notice nor check to see that there were no pants. So, it was casual Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday for me that week.
In spite of all that, I had a good week in St. Louis.
On the return trip, I was discouraged to find that there was a direct flight from St. Louis to Dulles that was not on my list of options. I would have been home four hours earlier on that flight. My flight had to go to Chicago first and then to Dulles. But, at least I was heading home.
Again, you seasoned travelers realize I am still naive because when we landed at Dulles, I actually went to baggage claim. My bag never arrived. It did not make the connection in Chicago. I filled out my claim and waited at my house the next day for my bag. When the gentleman arrived at my house, my bag was nowhere to be found, so he told me to just pick one. I asked him to give me the heaviest bag and we called it a deal. There was some nice stuff in my new bag and by my reckoning, I earned all of it. I am not sure who got my bag, but I hope they aren’t too disappointed with the Army uniform with no pants and all the PT uniforms that I carried. If you see somebody walking around in black Army PT shorts, an ACU top, and desert colored boots, you can bet their bags didn’t make the connection at Chicago either.
