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Saturday, July 25, 2009

Why flying to California is bad for my mental health: Part I.

image from here.

I haven't been on an airplane since 2002 when I went to my cousin's wedding in Virginia. That all changed when I woke up at 4am to trek to Logan Airport for a 7:35am flight to LA. What started out as a rather smooth morning, (and by smooth, I mean that I got out of bed with only one smashing of the snooze button) soon turned into a gigantic boondoggle (I'm really into using that word lately...). First of all, my flight was booked on Alaska Airlines. I went to Terminal A to the Alaska Airlines check-in (because I continually received error messages every time I tried to check in online, of course), and was promptly told that I needed to be in Terminal B for American Airlines. What?

Well, that was easy enough. Then, I awkwardly checked my bag (and almost forgot to tip the baggage check-in guy until he was all, "Is there anything else you want to give me?"), and nearly sprinted to the nearest Starbucks for my much needed caffeine intake. Great. Grand. Wonderful! Everything was going smoothly again, until I hit security. Everything was at a grinding halt, and security personnel were briskly walking around the security checkpoint on walkie-talkies. It was a little daunting. So, there we were, standing in line to go through security. This would usually make me an absolute ball of nerves, but I had my coffee and $5 bottle of all natural Fiji spring water (yeah, $5 -- wtf?), so I was relatively cool and collected. Until they told me that I had to chug my venti and chuck my unopened water before I could pass through. Here I was, thinking, "I am so prepared! I have all of my liquids in this nifty ziplock bag, I have minimal metal objects in my bag, magazines galore, and my coffee." I thought I was all set. The thought of actually having to chug my coffee and throw away the grossly overpriced water left me completely flustered. Let's just say that I usually like to approach security, pass through the metal detector unscathed, and walk away, very much under the radar of all onlookers. It did not turn out this way at allllllll! I had to take off my flip flops (bare feet at logan == incomprehensible grossness), put everything into a bin, and I still set off the detector because I forgot to put my phone in with all my shit! The security man barked at me to go to the back of the line and put my cell in a bucket. I was mortified. People were giving me dirty looks. I felt like Hester Prynne. I had failed a smooth security check-in. I made it to my gate (finally), and guess what was located not even a hop, skip, and a jump away from my gate? A Starbucks. I bought my much needed grande to soothe my shaking hands, and everything was good.

Until I boarded the plane, which I will save for Part II. Are you on the edge of your seat? Don't worry, friends... I wouldn't be either.
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