Airport Story
June 2nd, 2011
As soon as the mini bus drove up to take me to the airport, I wondered, ‘What have I forgotten?’ This is always my worry when I travel. No matter how many lists I make or how carefully I pack, I always managed to forget something. Not anything crucial, but some little something — a favorite lipstick, my slippers, a belt or sash that goes with a dress I plan to wear on the trip. This time was no different and the item I forgot caused a little problem with the security at Kennedy Airport on the way home.
My trip was divided into three segments, first to Raleigh, NC to visit cousins, Peter and Noni , second to New Jersey to visit my brother (the Yannie in my ‘Kiki’ books), and third to meet another cousin, Della, in Manhattan.
If you fly US Air, you can’t go anywhere unless you go to Charlotte, NC first. It’s their hub, like Atlanta is for Delta. I’ve heard many complaints about the Atlanta airport, but I prefer it to Charlotte. In Atlanta, once you figure out the underground rail system to get from concourse to concourse, it’s simple. However, in Charlotte, nothing is simple. The airport is large but poorly arranged. There is only an electric cart system to get passengers from place to place and the system is disorganized and unreliable.
I don’t mind walking, but on the first leg of the trip, the flight from Savannah to Charlotte was late and I didn’t see a cart, so I literally had to run a long way to a gate in another concourse. When I arrived, panting and exhausted, I was informed that my gate had changed. “Didn’t you hear the announcement?” asked the attendant?” With all the noise of passengers screaming into their cell phones, announcements made over the loud speaker by people who obviously need elocution lessons, how could I possibly hear while I was running? There was nothing to do but turn around and run back six gates. My name was being called as I neared the gate and I was the last passenger to board.
Ten days later on the way home, I was back at the Charlotte airport. Since I had plenty of time between flights, I found a cart and gave the driver my concourse and gate number. After a couple of minutes, I realized we were going the wrong way. “Umm…Excuse me. Isn’t concourse C in the other direction?”
“Yes”, she said “I need to pick up another passenger so I will let you off here and you will be picked up by another cart”. The second cart seemed to be going in the wrong direction, also, but I dared not say anything
After short ride on the second cart, the driver stopped and said, “This is as far as I can go. You can take the escalator or the elevator to the next level.” I’m glad he didn’t add “Have a nice day”. That would have really annoyed me. So, I dragged my carry-on suitcase, my computer, and my purse down the escalator and walked fifteen minutes to my gate. If this gate had been any farther out, it would have been on the tarmac. Enough said about the Charlotte Airport.
My point of departure from NY, the last leg of my trip, was Kennedy Airport. Kennedy is a very busy airport and in the confusion of taking off my shoes and jacket and putting plastic bags of medicine and toiletries on trays, I left my carry-on bag unattended for a minute. While I was Xrayed and patted down, I saw security searching through my bag. What could he be looking for I wondered? Finally, he pulled out the jar of cold cream, that I had purchased in Raleigh to replace the one I forgotten to pack back in Savannah. He read the label, opened it, sniffed it, and decided to confiscate it.
I had been concerned I might lose my tiny sewing scissors, my nail clippers, or maybe my sharp eyebrow pencil, but never dreamed that the most innocuous item in my luggage, a jar of cold cream, would be considered dangerous.
Of course, I realize air travel security is serious business and the rules are executed for our protection. If security personnel were not diligent, I wouldn’t feel comfortable about flying. Yet, I couldn’t help but laugh the irony of this experience.
This article can also be found at Coastal Senior HERE
