Airport Adventure
August 7, 2003

“Fly the friendly skies?” Yeah, right! They only seem friendly when compared with the ordeal you have to go through on the ground in order to get up there.

My sons flew for their first time last weekend-- alone. They were looking forward to it, and weren’t nervous until their older sister told them that whenever she flew, her ears popped, hurting just a little. The youngest was a little apprehensive. Thanks, Sis.

I probably didn’t help matters much. On the road to the airport, there was a small cemetery on the left. I told him those were former passengers. (We’re a loving family.)

My brother-in-law wanted to reassure him that only one person in a hundred actually has their head explode during flight-- And that they usually start convulsing before it happens, so there would be some warning. (As I said, we’re a loving family.)

We were taking advantage of “ticket-less travel”, but unfortunately that does not mean “confirmation number –less travel.” I had to walk all the way, back out to the car, through the maze of construction, because I forgot to bring in the confirmation number for their flight.

At the check-in counter, the lady informed us that the boys had been “selected for 100% screening.” They asked me what that meant. “Strip search”, I told them. They were not amused.

Now I know that typically, Jr. High boys don’t have the best reputation in the world, but this was clearly of case of profiling. I’ve got good boys. They wouldn’t hurt a fly-- (Maybe EACH OTHER occasionally, but never anyone outside the family.) There was a nun in line behind us—‘better get her too.

Security inspects each and every item of each and every person who checks-in luggage. They wiped down each bag with a swatch of cloth, and inserted it into some sort of sniffing machine for chemical analysis. I wisecracked to my boys that the smell from their shoes would set off the machine. I wish I hadn’t.

Immediately after I said that, an alarm went off. The security agent dropped everything, told us that we would have to answer a few questions, and then radioed the supervisor.

Just then, another alarm went off. No wait—That was my cell phone! It was my wife asking for information about our health insurance. I told her that I couldn’t talk at the moment, as I was about to be arrested, but that I would use my “one phone call” from jail in order to give her the information. (She was at the doctor’s office with my daughter, who had a throat infection.)

Fortunately, after a few questions we were allowed to proceed to the gate. Unfortunately, this is where the “100% screening” takes place. The boys were plucked from the regular line and placed in a holding area. After removing their shoes they were pulled aside, patted down, sized up, and passed over with a hand-held wand.

My cell phone rang again. This time it was my sister asking me who sings the song “Gloria?” Was it the Byrds or Van Morrison? (She and her husband had a bet riding on it.) She also wanted to know who it was that starred in “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court.” Was it Danny Kaye or Bing Crosby? (My cell number must have gotten mixed up with Alex Trebek’s today.)

After the screening, we had just enough time to buy the boys something to eat before their flight. Six bucks for a cheeseburger?! Where is the Air Marshal now? This is a crime! And those potato chips are left over from the original flight of Orville Wright!

Eventually the boys boarded their plane and arrived at their destination. Everything went smooth-- though my youngest said that his ears popped, hurting just a little. The power of suggestion?

By the way, for those of you who may be wondering, it was Van Morrison and Bing Crosby.

© Copyright 2003 Glen Davis