Flying Sucks

Ok your all going to love this one ... this is from my Adopted mom in the states and i think she did a great job of writing this .. it's a true Story and i love it

No I don’t like to fly!

Never mind the threat of terrorists flying planes into high rise buildings. Never mind the threat of mechanical failure. Never mind the thought of being projected through the atmosphere at unrealistic speeds. Just the hassle is enough to ground this old one.

We had enjoyed wonderful month in Montreal and were prepared for the trip home. With 200 pounds of luggage in tow, we caught the shuttle from the Hilton to PE Trudeau Airport barely noticing the minus 20 degree weather.

We had two hours before the plane left when we arrived at the kiosk to do the self check-in drill. Our first encounter with this system had been in Vancouver. Unfortunately it didn’t work any better for us now that we were in Montreal. We were instructed to go to the triangle.

The Triangle as it turns out is three billetries with yellow triangles printed on signs above the agents’ head. We weren’t alone in this queue. There had to be at least 100 people being shuffled through the fenced maze to the counter, all dragging carts of baggage. By the time we had moved 10 feet, we were down to one hour before take off.

Out of the din of confused and concerned passengers came this voice,”Any passengers for Toronto at 8 o’clock?”

Half a dozen people raised their hands and were then shuffled under the guiding fence to another queue. Hope sprang up in our hearts. Maybe we would be called out soon. But, that begged the question, what is the purpose of the triangle?

Our time was no completely wasted. We learned about the loosened requirements for needles from a gal sewing fur onto a leather mitten. We learned that there are a lot of people heading home to Asia for the holidays. We learned that no one expected to be in this line.

And then we heard, “Any passengers going to Vancouver on the 8:15?” Woohoo! That’s us! I stepped forward and the lady, put up her hand and walked away. Well there. That was a let down. Suddenly she reappeared and made the same announcement. I stepped forward again and this time it took. We were whisked out of line and placed in front of a real live agent who could get us boarding passes and check our baggage. This was progress. It was now 45 minutes until take off.

She asked for our flight information and then our carry-on luggage. I set my new red suitcase on the scale only to find it was 2 kilos overweight. Oh my gosh! What’s a Kilo? Well I know it’s a measurement of weight but truly have no concept of how heavy that is.

She suggests I open it and redistribute the weight. All I have in there of value is my laptop and my reading material, so I pull out the lap top. Voila! It passes, but now I have the little red suitcase with wheels, a lap top with no wheels and my purse. That’s three and as you know THAT is not allowed. SO, with the wisdom of years of baggage shuffling under her belt, she has me put my purse in the suitcase and carry the lap top. We are now back to two pieces of carry on luggage, but I can’t for the life of me see how we reduced the weight load in the plane.

Now it’s Bob’s turn. If anyone thinks my lap top and case holds a candle to Bob’s you are sadly mistaken. She had him start unloading until his laptop hit the magic number of 10 Kilos. But we had all these extra parts now, so she had us shove them into my little red suitcase that was now quite underweight. Finally with our weight redistributed but not reduced we were ready to start on the baggage that was to be checked.

As you might imagine, at least two of the 4 were overweight. She suggested that we open them all and redistribute until they were equal. Bob steps forward and asks the charge for overweight luggage? She said, “Oh sir, these two would cost you $80.00. Without a breath passing between her response and Bob’s he instructed her to just do it. We now had 15 minutes until take off.

With the motherly scolding tone, she instructed us to take our luggage around the corner to express baggage because we were already late. Now why was that?

We dropped off the big suitcases and proceeded to follow the signs to 5A. Oh yes, we still haven’t gone through security. A charming French lady instructed us to pass through line number 4. OK so here we go.

I take off my coat and put it in a bin. Open up the lap top and take in out of the case. Set my purse in yet another bin and fling the little red suitcase up on the conveyor belt behind it all. The fellow looks up and asks me to take off my jacket. I assure him my coat is that purple blob in the bin in front of him. He points to my sweat shirt and says it’s bulky. I said no that’s fat and this sweatshirt is all I have on. I was just not willing to remove it. He laughed and let me go.

In Vancouver my jewelry had set off the bells and whistles of the metal detector, but here, with the same pieces, I slid right through. But wait! Oh NO! There is a pair of scissors with VERY long blades in Bob’s carry on. OH No OH No! I didn’t remember where in that bag I had packed the scissors with 3 inch blades. VERY Long is definitely a subjective thing. After rummaging through bottles and bags we finally found the potential high jacking material. They were removed and taken to the bin of confiscated weapons. These poor scissors were due to be replaced anyway so my heart wasn’t broken, but it is curious that they hadn’t been confiscated in Vancouver.

So now I was through and they were looking at the electrical mass in Bob’s laptop. With routers and switches and extra things, it looked like he was ready for some fancy wiring on any kind of bomb. All he needed was the plastic explosive. Oh maybe that’s what I had under my shirt.

While they were obsessing with all that, I tried to put my luggage back into the configuration that worked. Lap top back in the little red suitcase with wheels, books where we could get to them and munchies protected from destruction. Bob made it through without being arrested and off we went on the 4 block tracks to 5A. We walked up, fell into line, and boarded without any hassles. Oh well save one, we weren’t seated together. Mine was first, so Bob helped me get my bag into the overhead bin and I sat down.

I am always amazed at cultural differences, but mostly I like to observe from a distance. On a plane, space and distance shrink by monstrous proportions. The lady next to me would vocalize every yawn. I couldn’t help but think she was gasping and each time my heart gave a start. She was very determined to get every cough and sneeze as far from her as possible so she would open her mouth wide and let loose of noise, phlegm, and God knows what without so much as a hand over the mouth. The Princessa in the seat in front of me needed a nap, so put her seat back until she was lying almost flat. In order to read I had to plant the bottom of my book on my chest and tilt it upwards about 45 degrees. My chins still are tired of being squished together for so many hours. The gal in the seat behind was short enough to be able to put her feet up on the back of my seat and keep time to the music on her private listening device. And then the flight attendant came by and asked if I would like a beverage. Yes water please and would you dump in on the gal in front and would I be greedy to ask for another for the gal behind.

I suppose I shouldn’t complain. Now that my feet are safely on the ground and all our bags arrived on the same flight, I am thankful. However, I still don’t like to fly and am writing this so I don’t forget why.

I must say that flying from Vancouver to Montreal avoids airport customs. This is an amazing thing. We showed the agent our passports at the border driving up, told them what we were doing and off we went. On the way back we showed them the passports, explained we had been there on business and confessed to buying Christmas presents but no food. And off we went. No hassles! Some things are truly a blessing!

In her words and font and type exactly .. teehee i love it