Traveling is such a pain in the ass. Yesterday I got up at the crack of butt to get to the airport, then returned the rental car, rode the bus to the terminal, checked in, and spent over a half hour waiting in line listening intently to the woman’s voice over the intercom explaining what the LAX version of a “security screen” requires. In this interpretation, we are supposed to remove our shoes and place them directly on the moving belt – NOT in a bin (I know they tell you to put them in a bin at ATL and DFW, but does this look like either of these airports to you? Then don’t put them in a bin, you idiot!); put your jacket, sweatshirt, vest, etc. in a bin with your, belt, etc. (NOT with your cell phone, ipod, or laptop – what are you, some kind of moron?); put your purse or carry-on directly on the belt (remove any kind of liquid of any size and put it in one of the plastic bowls and hand it to a security person – don’t put it on the conveyor belt, you fool, you’re holding up the line!); put your jewelry and spare change in a different plastic bowl and WHY THE HELL ARE YOU HANDING IT TO A SECURITY GUARD??? Put it on the conveyor belt, Imbecile, and stop holding up the line!!! Then put your laptop in a bin all by itself and then you’ll need another bin for your cellphone and ipod and, Good God, are you planning on flying around the world – why do you need all this stuff?? And didn’t we tell you to put away your boarding pass and I.D. 3 seconds ago? Why do you still have it in your hand???
I arrived at the gate and relaxed for a second, only to be told our gate had been changed and then herded to a different one. Then we started boarding and I am sure I don’t even need to go into detail about how people complicate matters by boarding before they’re supposed to, leaving those of us who are supposed to be boarding to crawl over them to get to our seats. I was a sweaty mess before even getting to my seat. One bright spot was I recognized Debbie Reynolds a couple of seats away. We made eye contact and I smiled. She didn’t. (In her defense, she probably wondered why the crazed woman with the sweaty hair was smiling at her.)
In flight, I napped for half a minute before jerking to attention when my chin began to drop. Then I spent a few hours playing with the TV thingy and tracking how far I thought the plane might go until we crashed, and whether I would die on the way down or would be fully conscious until impact. Also if they would be able to locate the postcard I was going to send to my friend and send it on to him for me after my death, since I forgot to mail it from the airport.
Obviously I was thrilled when we landed safely and began the herding process once again to disembark. I struggled with my two bags across the airport and all the way out to row 58D in Economy Parking, by which time I had recommenced sweating like a warthog and gasping for breath. When I was finally loaded up and in the driver’s seat of my car, I wondered to myself if really glamorous people who fly commercial (ick!) have to go through the same ordeal when they travel. I looked around to consult Debbie Reynolds, but she was nowhere to be found.
