I just returned from a lovely vacation during the Spring Break holidays. I have come to the conclusion that my tolerance for the general public is on a rapid decline. For some unknown reason people who stop dead in their tracks, or meander from side to side making it impossible to pass, are attracted to me. These people, hence forth known as “slow” walkers or “slokers” are always in my way. Now I am not talking about the aged or infirm, I am talking about those physically fit people who believe the best time to check their travel documents are when they are in the midst of a large crowd of fast moving passengers. Why there is not more serious injuries resulting from the domino effect as fellow travelers collide into these slokers is another great mystery of life. Once I broke free from their gravitational orbit, I proceeded to that cattle chute known as the TSA security check point.
Do a large majority of the population not read, or listen to the very simple instructions? As we shuffle through we are reminded to remove our shoes, coats, hats, and place our things into a plastic tray that goes through the scanner. Additionally we are reminded to have our boarding pass and passport in hand. I cannot tell you how many folks fail to have the requested documents ready, after they have been reminded repeatedly as we wended our way through the disneyesque line. Amid loud sighs and rolled eyes (mine), they fumble through their carry-ons, when they finally reach that point in the process. The real fun starts at the walk through metal detector. I always seem to get behind the person that “forgot” to remove their foot wear. In my case nine out of ten times the passenger in question will be shod in a pair of boots that take a good fifteen minutes and a specially designed button hook to shed. They proceed to prance through, only to be sent back to remove their coats, and then again to remove their hat, and finally to lose the belt that is sending the metal detector into overdrive. These same geniuses will also have a liter size water bottle, nail clippers, and various big box store sized toiletries in their duffels. Usually some lively discussion follows the confiscation of said items, and the line comes to a complete halt. Then there is the Body Scan. Bottom line, I think everyone knows by looking at me fully clothed, they will see a multitude of “muffin” tops, bottoms, and industrial size underwear on my scan screen. I honestly don’t believe that the scanner is looking for a cheap thrill at my expense! However many of my fellow travelers think differently. Hence more discussions, and further holdups.
Finally after overcoming the TSA hurdle, deftly moving around some more slokers, we are at the gate! Now the boarding cheaters show their faces. If you have flown lately, you may have noticed that they board the plane from the back rows to the front rows. This makes great sense, as it should eliminate the problem of the “Aisle Blockers” at the front of the plane. When your boarding pass is issued, it usually designates what boarding zone you are in. In theory you will be getting on after the people sitting further back in the plane have boarded. We were to be seated in the middle of the plane, or zone two. Zone one, the rows to the rear of the plane, were allowed to board first, our section was second, and the passengers in the front rows should board last. HA! We followed the rules, and guess what? We were one of the last passengers to board! I remarked to my sons that they should check the people’s zone number when they board, and if you are “jumping” the zone you should be sent to the back of the boarding line. They just shrugged and asked what the big deal was? The big deal is carry-on bags. Since airlines now charge for luggage, everyone tries to cram as much into carry-on as they can, thereby allowing their clothes to fly free. As a result overhead storage fills up fast. So fast that at the last minute your carry-on needs to be checked at the gate. Usually in your carry-on are all of your expensive electronics, prescriptions, jewelry, and any other valuables that you wanted to have in your possession. We were flying the day after the story broke on the sizable amount of items gone “missing” from luggage at JFK. One guess where we were flying from! Well we could only pray our bags didn’t become the piñatas of the baggage handlers.
Okay! We are in our seats, securely buckled, with our seats and tray tables in their upright position. Let the screaming child two rows up begin her rousing serenade! I had to hand it to her; she had stamina, and was able to maintain earsplitting screams for the duration of the flight. As soon as we were aloft, the tiny little grandmother directly in front of me, slammed her seat back to a full recline. Mind you she was all of five feet nothing, and her feet barely touched the ground. Meanwhile, me measuring in at a whopping six feet plus, had the extreme pleasure of flying with my knees jammed up by my ears. Then to add insult to injury, the guy catty corner to me, polished off a heaping helping of re-fried beans, and a burrito. Needless to say, it was rapidly metabolized and expelled, if you get my drift. I definitely got his. Who ever thought putting a Mexican Restaurant near the gate was a good idea? That wunderkind should be forced to fly on a plane for a few hours breathing in recycled air, after someone enjoyed an entrée from their fine establishment.
Arrival! Yippee! And we were off! We enjoyed a lovely cruise, on the SS Slocker. If you think meandering through the terminal is slow going, you haven’t been on a buffet line with the “I must inspect every morsel of food, before it goes on my plate” crowd. Or the let me look through the Bingo cards, and get a “feeling before I purchase one” ladies.
We ended up having a great time, relaxing and having fun, in spite of my diminishing regard for people. Now if the world is truly fair, someone is, at this very moment writing a blog about a curmudgeonly tall woman, who sighs and rolls her eyes! (I think it might be written by my kids!)
Hope your Holidays were happy!
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