2001
| Nov 13, 2001 We needed to be at the airport 3 hours before a 6:20 flight. And I decided, not knowing that close parking was still available at terminal C, with armed guards everywhere, and my son in a wheelchair, that I would use a shuttle. From the door. The shuttle guy argued that the airport isn't really open at that hour (3:30AM) and that 3:30AM was OK for a pick-up time. (Note - the airport is open 24 hours - the ticket counters aren't.) So they came at 3:30 and then went and picked up another party. I had a 24" rolling bag, a rolling sort-of duffel, a smaller duffel, and my ever-present rolling carry-on bag - that goes everywhere with me. My purse and jacket fit in the carry-on. My laptop and the camera are shoved into the 24" solid-side bag. And the kid has his cane and his wheelchair. Well, there was already a line when we arrived. People who fly often know this secret. We were not too far back, however, and a longer line was forming. There was evidence of life somewhere behind the counter. But they were hiding. They stayed hiding until nearly 4:30 at which point they they got very busy setting up. They rolled carts. They got out boxes and trays. And then. at 4:28, they turned on the lights. At precisely 4:30, like a bunch of angry ants, agents swarmed to the counter, exploding into action. Redcaps, however, were slightly missing. I had tipped the shuttle guy well to get our bags into the terminal and the line. We dragged and pushed them from there. I am a bit concerned since we were to have assistance from the door to the gate and were planning to check the wheelchair as baggage. Which we did. We were warned, my son has to climb stairs to get into the aircraft - no ramp. If he can't do stairs, they have an hydraulic lift. They found a redcap (is that what we call them now?) and got a wheelchair - but no one to push it (I had a carry-on). Actually, first he saw our chair and started to return his. No No No! I want easy moving. Well, shucks. Not this morning. They are short-handed. Oh well. So much for that plan. I hooked the rolling suitcase on my wrist (ouch) and pushed him along to security. Actually, he reached back and grabbed the handle of the case while I pushed the chair. We do this in the garage at the hospital. Somehow, in spite of planning, I have removed my purse from my roll-on and have it slung on a shoulder. Two jackets are in the rolling bag. I have tickets, and a special handling sheet. We get to security. I have to push up a 45 degree incline! How well planned! Him plus the bag = 300 lbs easy! I was, needless to say, warm by now. They dragged my son off to the side (I did say that he could stand up and walk through). They hand searched him. "What's that?" (a bulge in his pocket.) "Glasses." he replied. They left it at that. My bags, the cane and my jacket (yes, you disrobe), went through with men's belts. My tickets went through in a bowl - which spilled them all over the belt. I carefully rounded them back up. OK - explain why the paper they gave me had to be scanned? Got me on that one. I rescued my bags and my son and went on to the gate. I suddenly had an older Spanish-speaking gentleman (no English) adopt me . He was lost - I had to use sign language to tell him he was at the right gate. Pointed out the coffee bar. Etc. My son attracted a cute young thing and they chatted. Two national guard people, one male and one female, finally showed up. M16's in hand, they watched. The screeners began checking people with wands and such. Pat-downs. Luggage searches. We had seen none of that when we went through. My son was noting how utterly bored the military guy and gal were. M16s in close quarters. No side arms. What can they stop with a rifle - would not a side arm be better? Eventually an armed security guard (a woman who looked very military) armed with a side arm also arrived and took position. The hand searching increased. Bags were opened. Women in short tops with arms out revealed a lot. My son noticed this. Finally, it was time to board. I had help with rolling him to the stairs and help up the steps with my bag. I got him to his seat. By now I have shoved my boarding passes, special handling sheet and my driver's license into my son's wallet - easier that way - because you must flash and reflash your photo ID. Fumbling with my overloaded clutch would risk spilling money in all directions. My jacket (one) is on me. Two others migrated out of my carry-on and my purse did too, dangling from one shoulder again. I am a pack mule and I checked three full bags. Rule 1 - ID out and handy at all times Rule 2 - even jackets, shawls and cardigans go into the scanner. Belts and probably shoes. Expect it. Rule 3 - no sharp objects - some airports allow tweezers - some do not - not very consistent. I checked my knitting in my bag, Rule 4 - Get to the airport 3 hours early Rule 5 - Fly the first flight of the day Rule 6 - use a shuttle. I could just picture them having a field day searching the beat-up older van - 'cause I sure wasn't bringing my pretty new truck downtown. Not until Lo-Jack is installed. We will get GCSF vials at a drug store after he is in the room. I rented a car - better safe than sorry. I have phone #s and a phone card. And syringes and needles in the checked baggage. I did note that my bag was halted going through the scanner for a heartbeat - 4 cases of jewelry in it. Just before we boarded, I watched them read off names, and then put these people at a table. A swarm of gloved security people descended to paw through their luggage. Seemed to be people with passports. While we were being assisted to the plane, I missed all that hassle. I am delighted to do so. Settled in, I watch others board. My feet are angry (I was on the treadmill yesterday). My sneakers need to be larger. My laces looser. But I am in Susan Gravor tote-ables that wear like iron and a striped pullover from Sears for comfort. I have learned, look good (you get less crap) but be comfortable. I am wearing my QVC amethyst cross. The rosary didn't want to come - it is hiding again. It does this. Comes out when needed. I had it for a moment after the plane crash Monday and then - Blip! - off it went again. Oh yes. The young cute thing who was flying standby? Ended up next to my son. Too bad she was so tired. She slept the whole flight. |
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