I recently flew off into the wilds of Prince George and Calgary to help some friends of mine move.
When trips like this pop up and there is air travel involved – I immediately start to wonder if there will be a rant worthy event soon to occur. This is the way I've decided to think about crappy events – a potential website topic. This time I pictured some impending lame complaint about the “Bran Crunch” cookies that I encounter on these flights. This happened, but it no longer shows up on the radar compared to the other things that happened. I'll take you through it one step at a time.
7:30 am. Day of Departure
I wake up to the screaming banshee sound coming from my clock radio. The least relaxing sound on the face of the earth, I'm convinced. I want to hijack the production of one of those whale song relaxation tapes and put that sound in at around 10 minutes. Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!
I get up. It immediately becomes obvious that there is something terribly wrong with my right ear. It hurts like hell, and my balance is less than stellar. Dizziness. Its kind of interesting that this occurs, for the first time in many many years, on the very day I am about to fly on an airplane. The scent of Murphy's Law is strong in the air.
T he Airport
I don't mind airports, providing I'm not late or lost or some other related calamity. This time everything was going smoothly. I got through the ticket counter, paid for one of those airport improvement taxes, and was on my way. I proce eded to security. I waited in a reasonably quick and short line, and approached the checkpoint. The guy ahead of me, upon emptying his pockets, drew the attention of the security people due to several questionable items he had on his person. Most notab le was the fold out knife he had (a blade of 5 inches or so). He vehemently protested its impending siezure, but obviously didn't get to far with that one. He also had one of those lighters powered by propane or something that emits on or those blowtorch flames. Apparently – not suitable for passenger flights (duh!). I was talking to the girl next to me about him, safely out of earshot. “I mean, what do these idiots expect? To be able to bring large knives and blowtorches on a damn plane!!!??”. It was agreed, he clearly hadn't thought this thing through….
The “security” checkpoint
So I put my watch in that little basket, slide it through to the person on the other side. You see… this time – I was smart as I took all my change out and put it into my carry on bag! None of that silly fishing for change in my pocket stuff this time. I walk through with no problems. No blinking lights, sirens, or those spread your arms while I rub my magic security wand over you episodes. I walk to the other side of the security gate, pick up my backpack, and start in the direction of the domestic terminal at YVR.
This is the point where my story stops firing at others and turns the gun on itself….
Virtually tackled. Grabbed by the shoulder s and “asked” not to leave – we have to check your bag. Crap. “Oh shoot – I'd forgotten to mention my #%@^ camera was in the bag” (they like you to turn these things on). Fine, so we open up my backpack, I get out my camera – turn it on. It doesn't st op there. They start rummaging through everything. I start to get confused. I even had to take the lens caps and stuff off my zoom lens. They go through my film canisters, and the INSTRUCTION MANUAL for the camera. This is about the time that the RCM P show up. Great. Cops, and they don't want a group photo. I have a polite discussion with one of the security people about why I am protesting them opening up the back of my camera. “Hell”, I say, “I have pictures of the ECLIPSE in there”!!! A succe ssful negotiation at last. This is when they take everything out of my bag and move me to what is essentially another room.
Sequestration
My acute sense of reality notice that this is probably not a good thing.
Questions – why am I going to Pri nce George – who are you meeting there – what are their names – where are you from – when are you coming back…. etc. I may have avoided the x-ray wand – but I was FRISKED instead (after they found something buried in the seam of my backpack). It isn't as much fun as it looks. I was remarkably cooperative, since this is before the reason for all this had hit me. They were still digging through the crap in my bag. They pointed to the x-ray thingy.
Lit up, clear as day, were THREE pairs of SCISSORS silhouetted amidst the rest of the travel flotsam in my bag.!
So I pointed out where the scissors were. They held one up in the air, scrutinizing it.
This is the exact point I looked for a crowd reaction and saw the strange look that the aforementioned girl that was behind me in line was giving. Apparently, I'd become one of the idiots. I can't disagree. At this point, my own biased estimation of my IQ dropped several… many points.
I moved myself about a month and a half ago. I had this little box that I put all the loose bathroom type implements and tools into. Sadly I made the last minute decision to simply throw this into my carry on baggage on the morning of departure – instead of sorting through it selectively. A regrettable decision, in retrospect.
So they found 3 pairs of scissors in there. One of which was wedged into the lining at the bottom of my bag (my suggestion is that this is why they had to “frisk” me). Thought I'd lost that pair a few years ago – apparently not. All these items were confiscated. They also abused my pairs of nail clippers (why I had 2 I do not know). They tear off those fold out file things on them. One of the file things wouldn't come off – confiscated. 30 seconds after I learned I actually owned a thermometer, I had my thermometer confiscated. After the bag rummaging and interrogation was over, I had to shove everything back into my bag.
Denouement
At this point, still slightly grateful that I hadn't been shot and hung up as an example to others, I realized that I was about to be late for my plane! I don't know who reading this has been in the Domestic terminal of the Vancouver International Airport, but the gate I needed was at the VERY end of it. So I ran. A lot. Know those people yo u see making the frantic dash to their gates? “Tsk… they should have left earlier….” Well – that was me. The lack of the weight of objects that I lost at security probably made me go a bit faster.
I run up to the gate. Nobody was there. This was disturbing – so I ran down the hallway towards the plane. They didn't like this – some crazed passenger bolting towards the door of the plane just as they were thinking about shutting it… but at least I got on! Whew!
Then I began to wonder how my sc rewed up ear would react to cabin pressure. No worries though. It ended up being nothing more than intense pain upon landing and the sensation of someone stabbing an ice pick into my brain every time I yawned for the next two or three days.
Moving from city to city sucks and is stressful, but didn't bother me at all this time.
We now return you to the year 2002, already in progress on a planet near you…..