NOLA OR BUST part I

Well here we go again. I find myself sitting in the Birmingham international airport. I know that all of you will enjoy my misery so, I am going to keep this as a record. I arrived in plenty of time after spending my morning separating child from child and teen from teen.

 I am a pro at air travel now and decided to buy my own carry on last night. It is enormous. If this is a carryon, it is no wonder that airlines are all failing. Fuel costs and over burdensome pension plans pale in comparison. I settled on a nice understated black bag. The decision was narrowed down to that or something Jessica Simpson branded.  I could pack for a month in this thing. I added a bit of flair by adding some accessory cord (very small rope like paracord) to the handle as I am a boy scout and can’t imagine traveling without a bit of rope and a safety pin.

 

I don't know how this isn't a carry on? Is it the liquids?

I digress. I made it here this morning with plenty of time because I was awoken to a text that the flight would be delayed 48 minutes. That’s no big deal, happens all the time. I get dropped off, and someone at a desk outside approached me and asked me something about my bags. He and his compatriots were all wearing Delta uniforms but I am still not sure that I shouldn’t have reported them and this suspicious activity to the TSA.

 

Suspicious I tell you. Playing the long con?

Inside I queue up in the line for my flight (Delta). I am the only person here. There are 5 people at the desk eager to help me. The woman asks me immediately if I am going to check my bag. I panic. It said it was a carry on when I bought it. I can’t imagine the look I gave the poor woman when I gave her my best “No?” She acquiesces, handing me boarding passes (tickets?) allowing me to travel with this steamer trunk that society has deemed a carry on. If you can’t pick it up and carry it 150 yds then it shouldn’t count as a carry on. I could with mine but looking around, I have doubts about others.

That was warm up panic. Next is the secret club handshake of frequent flyers, security screening. No big deal. Remember, I am an air travel professional now. I nod knowingly at my other ATPs as I have my ticket (boarding pass?) and my ID out. Shoes loosened, briefcase unzipped for quick laptop removal, pockets clear, belt removed. I am doing this! The people in front of me are not ATPs and cause panic to start creeping in. The line behind me is piling up and the ATPs back there are probably assuming fault lies with the tall guy. Anxiety causes me to grab a stack of bins that is excessive in number and my entire plan to fall apart. Also, since when do snacks have to come out of your bags??? I do not travel light in the snack department. Then it WAS my fault and I have been sent back to the Air Travel minor leagues.

Assume you will need 4 and so you grab 15 on accident in a panic. 

My things come out the other side blocked in by the amateurs in front of me. I hear the couple discussing her pat down and this doesn’t help then get their bins any faster. The people behind me are now sure that it is my fault and are talking in hushed tones about the moral fiber of a man who takes this long. I am half into the process of sliding down while reassembling when a true hero among men shows me the way. This man (who looks like a combination of Patton Oswald and the comic book guy from the Simpsons) stacks all 4 of his bins and just walks out as though he is leaving the screening area. YOU CAN DO THAT? I assumed you had to pull it together on the conveyor. Oh no. This man took his bins to a bench within the screening and sits down. He leisurely and efficiently repacks and is on his way to get his diet coke (not a judgement call, I saw him buy it). I take my remaining bins, a single shoe half on now, stack them haphazardly and follow suit, passing the neophytes. I look back to see the hoard of ATPs judging me. They are all looking away but I know they were staring.

This is what the line at security looked like behind me. I was the guy in front holding it back (in one shoe). No pressure.

I walked to my gate and have sat down only to be delayed another hour. I checked the status of all the airports and it appears that the world is doing just fine. It is just my plane. I am a minor-league Air Traveler. No big deal. I will certainly miss my second flight in Atlanta and will have to deal with that. I am uncertain if I should do that now or after I get to Atlanta? It is close enough to noon now that I can consider calling upon my secret weapon, day drinking. Anxiety may have met its match in Coffee Oatmeal Stout but, I am scared to walk the 15 yards over there that my flight will get here and leave without me in those 30 seconds. NOLA OR BUST