Saturday, January 27, 2018

The Horrors of Flight

by Pa Rock
Weary Traveler

We are in Salem, Oregon, and preparing to head out for a quick breakfast before visiting my grandchildren who live here:  Sebastian, Judah, and Willow.  Sebastian has already emailed wanting to know what time we would be at his house.

Getting out of Honolulu was a fiasco.  Patti and I were each singled out by the TSA's sniffing dog and had to go through a special check and pat-down that took quite a bit of time.  We weren't carrying any contraband, a reality that seemed to disappoint the TSA gropers, and eventually we were sent on our way - without apologies.  When I write my letter of complaint to TSA later today, I will dwell on two outrages.  First, the poor dog has not been properly trained.  One bully in uniform told me that he goes off on people for all kinds of reasons other than finding whatever it is that he is looking for.  If the dog can't do his job, then the dog needs to go to retire and go to the farm.  Second, my wallet, which contained all of my vacation cash, was removed from my line of sight on numerous occasions.  I used to work for the federal government, and I know those guys are underpaid.  Tourist victims need to have visual contact with their belongings at all times - particularly their money.

The flight itself was more god-awful than even I could have anticipated.  We were stuffed into the back of the plane within a tight circle of crying babies and screaming kids.  A nanny sitting in front of my middle seat decided that she should be able to lean her seat back and put her head in my lap - a situation which I quickly remedied.  As I was exiting the plane she gave one of her young wards a speech about how she didn't want him to grow up and be rude, "like some people."  While I admired her dramatic effect, I declined to applaud. 

But, I will soon be playing with my grandchildren, so things will be better!

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