Thanksgiving '07 presented me with a quagmire of sorts. However thoughtful it may have been to wonder if that predicament was whether to eat a turkey or donate one, that was not the case - but a special 'thank you' to those of you who thought that of me. The real question was should I go to the comfortable setting of the Grand Canyon State which afforded me opportunity to rest, enjoy nice weather and spend time with my extended family - OR remain in the Land of Lincoln for my 10 year high school reunion.
Not one to pass up opportunities, I chose them both. I planned my trip so that I would arrive at Phoenix's Sky Harbor International Airport (PHX for those avid players of the airport code game. Don't knock it till you try it.) and be back in Chi Friday evening just prior to the commencement of the festivities. It was tough - I rarely see my aunts, uncles and grandparents...but just the same, a ten year reunion probably doesn't happen too often. After emailing a few of my closest friends to confirm that at least a handful of people would recognize me, I began to get excited for the reunion. This feeling was put on a scale as I've had many vacillating thoughts as to what my plans 'should' be. It is necessary to appreciate two things: that friends and family are very important to me and that "hearts and thoughts they fade away" (...a quintessential line from "Elderly Woman Behind A Counter In A Small Town," a Pearl Jam classic) and thus I wanted to keep both connections as strong as modern transportation would allow.
I had a short, yet great time with my relatives and was dropped off at PHX by my uncle and aunt just about an hour before my flight was scheduled to take off. Down to the wire. Already checked-in, I went to the security checkpoint and took advantage of the security line for 'elite' travelers. It didn't matter that no one was in line - period. I had earned the elite status through United's frequent flier program and love reaping the benefits - sometimes, like this time, just to take advantage of the perks on principle because I am able.
Going through security one of the TSA agents pulled one of my bags aside and took out an unopened bottle of water I forgot to discard. Ah shit - the water policy. Can't forget that the Bush administration's main effort to boost our nation's economy is to force consumers to re-purchase items in Price-Gouging Approved Airport Stores (PGAAS). But wait - my 'un-secure terrorist water' was just tossed into a bin alongside the security officers. Whaaaaa? or as some would say: WTF!? Maybe it takes specialized training and a knowledgeable security officer to make water like mine safe, but if I didn't know any better I would think that the potentially explosive material in my designer water bottle should be contained in an explosives-safe receptacle. As I was putting my bomb-free NBs back on, I asked the TSA woman a "what if" about my water. She got what I meant right away (admittedly a bit of a shocker, but kudos to her) and simply said that her kids would be really rich if something happened to her like what I was alluding to, thereby agreeing with my premise that if the water was truly threatening it should be handled as such and not like it was still just drinking water!
Other oddities include the announcement by our purser on the flight that, due to security guidelines, a minimum of one person could be waiting for the lavatory by the cockpit. Hmm - a requirement that someone is always there and possibly encouraging gatherings? I also always got a kick out of the safety video when it says "bee-bee" as in, "your nearest exit may be behind you." By the way, the purser is basically the chief flight attendant in case you ever wondered.
One's neighbor in the adjacent seat might present opportunities for more tales: a woman next to me on a long haul flight to Nairobi (NBO) years ago decided it was quite appropriate to take her shoes and socks off and put her feet up on the seat separating us. Thinking of spending my life in jail, I did not want to act on my instinct and instead let it pass. It was horrendous though. On my flight from PHX to ORD returning for the reunion extravaganza, there was a huge Bulgarian (for the sake of anonymity and unsurety) guy whose hands were just extensions of his arms - no wrists! He was very possessive of his Styrofoam cup containing his iced drink and stubbornly let out grunts and held it tight as the flight attendant attempted to exchange it with the airline's plastic cup. Next to him, and me, was his wife. It seems that she thought that the iron curtain of personal space starts on my side of the armrest. Yet she didn't give pause to rummaging through my magazines. I wanted to be like: "bitch, that's my seatback pocket!" I never get the hot, single chicks next to me...Yet one time on a different flight to AZ I sat next to a lawyeress who told me about how she would smuggle pot on flights. I was baffled - I asked her how she brought the drugs aboard a flight passed security, especially with tighter restrictions. She explained that she put the pot in a little baggie and stuffed that in her, well, vagina. Hmm...a strain President Clinton would appreciate perhaps.
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