Airline Adventures - A Memoir

A humorous (and cynical) recounting of the crazy antics that took place once upon a time when I had to travel a lot for my job.

Airline Adventures

-A Memoir in 12 parts-

 

     During the month of October, 2004 I was sent out on work-related travel to California for four weeks.  The catch was that I came home every weekend, so it was four trips out and four trips back.  Each one-way trip consisted of three airplane flights.  So, for that month I rode a total of 24 planes.  Some of the situations that I encountered were nothing short of bizarre, hilarious, and outright weird.  The following is a recollection of true experiences I had during that single, lonely month - a month where I was constantly away from home, constantly surrounded by strangers, and constantly in a quiet, people-watching mode.  So, let’s have a look at some of these strange occurrences, shall we?

 

 

Part 1:  It Reeks of ‘Scam’

 

     This first random experience should have been fair warning to me that the month which lay ahead was going to be fraught with strangeness, oxy-morons, and other lapses in logic.  Something as simple as a posted warning sign started the whole thing, really.  The sign was somewhat rudimentary, and was located just as you are about to enter the baggage scanning area.  It was simply a list of prohibited items that were not under any circumstances allowed beyond that point.  No ifs, ands or buts!  Next to the sign was a large plastic barrel into which all of the aforementioned items were placed for destruction, had they happened to be found on your person.  I took a quick glance at the sign, making sure I didn’t have any of the items listed.  Let’s see…nail clippers, pocket knives, liquids…(Liquids?  Really?)  Well, luckily, I didn’t have any of those things, so I patiently waited for my turn at the scanner, and proceeded without further obstruction.

 

     I had a little bit of time to kill before my flight, and knowing that it was going to be a very lonely month of solitude amongst strangers, I decided to browse the shops for a book.  I entered one of the many overpriced knick-knack shops and began my search.  In the back of that store was a modest selection of fiction novels, and thankfully, I found one that captured my fancy and would be my best friend for the next few days.  As I was approaching the cash register to pay for my new friend, I noticed a small rotating display on the countertop.  It contained key chains and other quaint novelty items you’d expect to find at a shop like this.  And then I rotated the display.  On the back side, in all their contraband glory were….nail clippers.  Really.  Were these items not banned just a hundred yards ago?  If I were someone that had just given up my personal nail clippers for destruction at the baggage scanner I think I would be pretty upset about seeing them for sale just beyond that area.  Not only that, but to add insult to injury, they cost about three times what you would pay for them at your local Walgreen’s.  So let me get this logic straight - it’s not okay to bring your own nail clippers onto an airplane flight because you may use the little cleaning prong as a stabbing device to hijack your plane, but - BUT - you are more than welcome to buy our overpriced clippers in the gift shop, which feature the exact same accoutrements.  Thank you, and have a nice day.

 

 

Part 2:  The Malady of Seat 13A

 

     My ticket told me that I was to sit in seat 13A.  I’m not superstitious at all, so I have absolutely no problem sitting in row 13.  The plane that I was to be riding was a relatively small Embrear jet that loads in the front.  Therefore they let all the passengers with row numbers in the rear of the plane board first.  I was waiting at the gate when suddenly an announcement came over the intercom for people in rows “seven and up” to go ahead and begin boarding.  I approached the entry way, they scanned my ticket and wished me a good flight.

 

Awesome.

 

     Once on the plane, I was behind several other people and they were moving slowly in order to examine the row numbers marked on the overhead bins.  One by one, the other passengers in front of me would place their bags in the compartments and move off to the left or right into their assigned seats.  Finally, there were no other passengers left in front of me and I had free reign to go ahead to my seat.  I made my way to the rear of the plane.  Row ten……row eleven……row twelve……toilet.  I’d been booked to ride on the toilet.  Wonderful.  A stewardess standing next to a coffee pot at the back of the plane approached me since I had a look of total confusion on my face, I’m sure.  I showed her my ticket and told her that I’d been booked to ride on the toilet.  She laughed and assured me that this happens all the time, and I’m thinking, can it really be safe to ride on the toilet?  Oh!  She meant that being booked in a nonexistent seat happens all the time!  So she told me that I could probably sit in the twelfth row and that there would not likely be a conflict.  I did, and there wasn’t, thankfully.

 

 

Part 3:  Sleeping on the Job

 

     In order to fly into Oxnard, CA one must board a very small prop plane out of Los Angeles, as this airport is not meant to handle large aircraft - “large” meaning “seats more than twenty people”.  These small planes get a bad reputation among the air traveling public, but things like this do not scare me.  The people that designed those aircraft are engineers, just like me, whose careers depend on them coming up with a good, safe design just as much as the engineers for a 747.  So, logically, there’s no reason for any extra alarm.  Just before taking off, as we were sitting on the runway, the stewardess gave her little spiel about the vests, oxygen masks, emergency exits, and all that.  She then strapped herself into her little jump seat that she folded out from the wall at the front of the plane.  I was in the first row, so in essence she was sitting right in front of me except that she was in the middle of the craft, whereas I was off to the right a bit.  Her jump seat was the type that had shoulder restraints that came out of the wall and buckled into a common harness area at her waist, much like the 5-point racing harness that you’d see in a dragster, except that she didn’t bother to tighten the shoulder straps very much, allowing her some freedom of movement.

 

     The plane took off and even though the view was absolutely stunning along the Pacific coast, we did experience a little bit of turbulence.  Prop planes such as that are pretty much at the mercy of even the slightest changes in wind conditions.  Before we even finished making our initial ascent, the stewardess made an announcement that due to the short duration of the flight there would be no in-flight service of any kind.  That’s fine - it was only like a 20 minute flight anyway.  But I kid you not, that not even two minutes after hanging up that microphone she was sound asleep in her jump seat.  Her body lurched forward, jolting to a stop when it maxed out the length of the shoulder harness straps.  She did not wake up.  Her arms and hair flailed wildly from side to side and out in front of her in a nearly horizontal line as the plane swayed from side to side with the turbulence, and accelerated or decelerated.  She reminded me of a movie zombie when it lumbers toward unsuspecting victims with its arms extended.  I had to move over in my seat a bit as her hands were dangerously close to slamming into my knee.  Still, she did not wake up.  This went on for the entire duration of the flight.  Then, when the plane began to decelerate for its final approach, without missing a beat, she awoke and got on the microphone to make her announcement about returning the seat back trays to their upright position for our final approach.  All I could think was, now there’s somebody who’s done this job before!

 

 

Part 4:  Baggage Claim Blues

 

     The first time I landed in Oxnard, CA was an eye-opening experience.  This is without a doubt the smallest airport I have ever flown into or out of.  Did you ever see that old TV sitcom called Wings?  This is by all intents and purposes the airport in Wings - one runway, three employees, and a building roughly the size of your local Dairy Queen.  Our prop plane landed and I was in awe at the surroundings.  As we taxied over to our “parking spot” I felt like I had just landed in the abandoned parking lot of a small elementary school.  After the moveable stairway was brought over, (which was really nothing more than one of those aluminum-tube warehouse ladders on wheels) we began to make our way off the plane.  I noticed that one of the three employees had placed all of the checked luggage at the base of the ladder.  It’s a small airport, I thought, so this must be how they operate.  I’ll just pick up my bag as I pass by the ladder.  Wrong!  I attempted to do so after spotting my bag in the pile and was immediately accosted by the employee.

 

     “Hey!  You can’t take that!  That’s a checked bag!” he yelled.

 

     I immediately set the bag back down.

 

     “You can pick up your bag in the baggage claim area,” he told me.

 

     “Okay.”  I removed my hands from the bag’s strap and sort of put them up in the air as if to say, Look, I wasn’t trying to break the rules - I just didn’t know.

 

     I watched as he then loaded the bags onto a small electric cart and proceeded to drive a total of about 30 feet to the Dairy Queen-sized building.  He parked, opened up a metal roll-up window, much like you would see at any public pool concession stand, and placed the bags on a counter just inside the window.  All the passengers then went over to the counter to pick up their bags.  I couldn’t help but think, You’ve got to be kidding me!  That’s it?  Well, good thing I didn’t take my bag BACK THERE!  That would’ve been a security violation!

 

     Seriously.

 

 

Part 5:  I Love Classic Cars

 

     It was time to rent the car in Oxnard, and I couldn’t wait to see what was going to happen here.  I didn’t even see a rental car lot anywhere on site.  After entering the Dairy Queen building, I saw that there was indeed a rental car counter.  I approached and the lady was very helpful and friendly.  When the time came to take a set of keys off of the rack behind her, she seemed as if she was trying to make a decision on-the-fly about which car to give me.  As she was still fidgeting with the keys she said, “How about a classic?”

 

     I was thinking, Seriously?  Heck yes, I’ll take a classic!  What is it?  A ’57 Chevy?  A ’55 T-bird?  A ’40 Ford street rod?  I mean, this is California after all, maybe they do stuff like this all the time!

 

     After a thousand thoughts of awesome hot rods going through my head, I excitedly said, “Sure!”

 

     She agreed and grabbed a set of keys from the rack.  She told me it was white and that it was right out front and I couldn’t miss it.  I went through the doors and went in search of this awesome rental car lot.  All I found was what I initially thought was the employee’s parking lot.  It turned out to be the rental car lot - full of small, ordinary, modern cars.  There was only one white one, and as I approached it I could just make out what the badges said - “Classic”.  I wasn’t even aware that Chevy made a compact car called a “Classic”.  Lesson learned.  The rental car counter lady probably wondered what on earth I was so excited about.

 

 

Part 6:  Sidewalk Con Artist

 

     The time came to leave California, and it was when I arrived at LAX (Los Angeles) that the confusion ensued.  They have this strange sidewalk check-in service that you’re pretty much forced to use if you approach the building from the sidewalk area (like if you get out of a cab or are dropped off in the lane).  Now, I technically shouldn’t have had to use that service because it was my intention to fly in from Oxnard and have a simple internal layover in LAX.  Unfortunately, a dense fog had settled on Oxnard that morning, causing them to cancel all their early flights.  Their answer was to drive all of the folks on the morning flight (all 5 of us) to LAX in a limousine.  It was actually a really nice experience and the scenery was absolutely beautiful as we made our way down coastal highway 1.  However, when we reached LAX I was dropped off at the curb, hence my mandatory usage of the sidewalk check-in.

 

     It was extremely crowded on the sidewalk and I wasn’t entirely sure what I was supposed to be doing, so I just waited in line at my airline’s sidewalk terminal.  Finally, it was my turn.  The guy was quick and helpful, and I wasn’t at that check-in computer for more than two minutes.  The guy then took my checked bag, which weighed all of about twelve pounds, wheeled it over to a conveyor belt 15 feet away, and then held his hand out for a tip.

 

     Great.

 

     I quickly rummaged through my wallet and realized that the smallest bill I had was a ten.  I handed him the ten and said, “This is all I have”.

 

     He gave me a look of grief and then said, “Well, I only have three ones,” and he handed them to me as my change.  Before I could say anything else he was already back over at the computer helping the next customer.

 

     Yeah, you have a nice day, too! I thought sarcastically.  A $7 tip for two minutes worth of work and for dragging my ultra-light bag a whopping 15 feet.  Nice.

 

 

Part 7:  Making Friends in LAX

 

     Once I was finally settled at my gate in LAX, I had a little time to kill before the plane would board.  I decided to take part in one of my favorite airport pass times - people watching.  I was sitting alone on one side of a horseshoe-shaped row of seats.  After a few minutes a business man sat across from me and unfolded a newspaper.  I found it odd that he sat directly across from me in an otherwise empty section of seats.  I was very careful not to stare at him, but my curiosity allowed me to catch glances of him every once in a while as I looked around at other people.  The next thing I know, the man had his paper tilted to the side and suddenly, while looking directly at me, he loudly said, “Did you get those papers?”

 

     I was startled!  I looked slightly to my left and then slightly to my right to see if there was anyone else around.  Maybe one of his co-workers was approaching from the side.  There was no one there.  Still looking straight at me he then said, “Well, did you get them or not?”

 

     My mouth slacked open a bit, my head began to move side-to-side, and I put my hand to my chest in preparation to ask, are you talking to me?  Just as I was about to ask that - I mean at the very instant sound was beginning to escape from my lips - the man then said, “Okay, well, I’ll just call you later and we can discuss it more, bye.”  He was on the phone the entire time!  I didn’t know how this was possible because I’d never seen a hands-free device before, but after a few more quick glances - sure enough, he was wearing a tiny earpiece.  This was my first introduction to a new breed of cell phone technology that would, in my mind, eventually ramp up the level of idiotic cell phone behavior in public places (as if people aren’t oblivious enough on them as it is).  And looking back, I was right.

 

 

Part 8:  The Terminal

 

     Since you cannot fly directly from Louisville to Los Angeles (or vice versa) I always had to layover in Chicago.  On one of the return flights from LAX to Chicago, I was seated next to a pleasant young couple and we all decided that we were going to watch the in-flight movie - Tom Hanks in The Terminal.  For those not familiar with this movie, it is basically about a guy whose country’s political system collapses while he’s in an airport, therefore his paperwork is no good and he’s not allowed to leave the airport.  He ends up living in the airport terminal for a long time - months even.

 

     After the film had ended, we all agreed that it was a pretty good movie and that it would be terrible to have to live in an airport for that long.  I told them my story of all the traveling I had been doing recently and how it felt like I was living in an airport for the last month.  It had been drizzling slightly as we descended to prepare for our final approach.  It was about 9:00 PM and was dark out, and we were sent into a holding pattern as Chicago was not prepared for us to land due to the weather.

 

     When we finally did land I rushed up to the gate where my flight to Louisville was scheduled to depart.  The plane had not been held and left on time at 9:15.  It was now a little after 9:30, and that was the last flight out to Louisville for the day.  After realizing that I wasn’t going to get any compensation from the airport staff whatsoever, not even a meal voucher, I simply hung my head and made my way to the Chili’s restaurant in the food court area for a late dinner.  I was the only person in the restaurant, as everyone else had made it onto their flights home.  After dinner, I decided to go ahead to the terminal where my flight would be leaving from in the morning.  The airport had become increasingly desolate over the last hour and by now was practically a ghost town.  The lights had even been turned off in some areas.  Every once in a while, as I was walking to my gate, I would pass one or two people curled up in chairs at other gates, attempting to sleep until their next-day flights.  Where did they get blankets?, I wondered.

 

     If anyone was going to need a blanket it was me because my gate was located in an uncarpeted basement, and the heat had been turned off in that portion of the building.  I wasn’t going to be able to sleep in a chair because the armrests were not removable and it was impossible to stretch out in one.  I curled up on the hard linoleum floor and rested my head on my carry-on bag.  It must have gotten down in the 50s in that room that night.  I shivered all night long.

 

     I woke up the next morning when an employee came to set up their workstation for the day at a gate across the room from me.  I was groggy, but sat up in a chair and waited until more people began filing into the area.  After what seemed like only a few minutes, the area was bustling and announcements for flights were being made.  I sat close to the doorway at my gate, feeling a sense of entitlement that I had earned a spot on this flight and no one was going to take it from me!  I made it home on that flight and was relieved that the longest trip home had come to an end.  I had left Oxnard, CA at 5:30 AM on Friday morning and walked in the door of my house a little after 2:00 PM on Saturday.

 

 

Part 9:  Contraband Revisited

 

     I was feeling kind of “snacky” at one point during one of my layovers and I had gotten in line at a McDonald’s in one of the airport food courts.  It was one of about 6 lines leading up to the counter and each one was packed beyond belief.  It was so crowded that you could barely move an inch front-to-back or side-to-side without bumping someone.

 

     Out of nowhere this guy with long, greasy hair, a scruffy beard and dirty earth-tone colored clothing comes forcing his way through the crowd and rushes to the counter.  It caused a slight commotion among the people around me, as it appeared he was going to unapologetically cut the line.  After forcing his way to the counter, he yells to the nearest employee (who had her back turned while putting items from the holding area into a bag), “Hey!  Can I get a knife?”  After a brief hesitation she reluctantly handed him one of those serrated plastic knives, and he hustled away in a hurry.  Now, that may not seem like the most deadly weapon of choice to some, but those little buggers can cut!  I mean, we’re going to let that guy have one of those, but I’m not allowed to bring nail clippers into this area?  C’mon!

 

 

Part 10:  Heavy Non-drinkers

 

     I boarded one flight from Chicago to Louisville that was particularly packed.  I mean every seat was occupied, every overhead bin was stuffed to capacity, and the storage area under every seat was crammed with additional carry-on items.  It was going to be miserable, but luckily it would be a relatively short flight home.

 

     We were taxiing away from the gate when the captain came on the intercom system to make an announcement.  It went something like this: “Ladies and gentlemen, due to weight restrictions we have had to leave the refreshment cart behind.  Therefore there will be no in-flight service for this flight.  Thank you for your understanding.”

 

     Excuse me?  You left the drink cart behind to keep us in the air?  I mean, how much could a drink cart possibly weigh?  300 lbs fully loaded?  You’re telling me that we’re flying home 300 lbs shy of the plane not being able to take off or stay in the air easily?  If that’s the case, you can leave me behind, too!  I’ll have my drink back at the gate in Chicago and wait for the next flight!

 

 

Part 11:  Happy Birthday! (Or Something)

 

     On one occasion I had a very long layover and had arrived at my gate extremely early - so early in fact that the passengers sitting around me were waiting to board the flight before mine from the same gate.  I started out reading a book, but it became way more fun to people-watch as those folks began boarding their plane.  Everyone boarded in an orderly manner and the workers were beginning to make their final calls on the loud speaker.  Just as they were about to close the door to the jetway, this lady came running up with several large, paper shopping bags in her arms.  She approached the individual that scans the tickets, and I could tell that it was her intent to have a quick scan and then quickly board the plane, which should be pulling away from the building any second.

 

     Instead of a quick scan-n-go, the officials took her aside and asked to look inside all those bags.  Don’t ask me why they did this because all of these items had to have been x-rayed back at the checkpoint or else she would never have gotten them to the gate.  We’ll just take a quick look inside those bags and then you’ll be on your way.  Easy enough, right?  In theory, yes.  However, these bags contained literally dozens of fully-wrapped gifts.  Now, whether or not there was going to be a birthday party (or several, from the looks of it!) I don’t know, but this woman was carrying enough presents to bring a merry Christmas to a small orphanage.

 

     Extra TSA officials were radioed in and they cleared off two large fold-out tables to spread the wrapped gifts onto.  Then, one by one, every last gift was unwrapped, much to the chagrin of this poor woman.  I can only imagine the unrest among the other plane passengers when their plane was held up for 20 minutes for, seemingly, no reason.  After checking each gift, they crammed everything back into her paper sacks - ripped-up wrapping paper and all - and sent her on her way.  She did board that plane and I’m sure that some of the other passengers gave her grief (even if only in the form of dirty looks) for something that wasn’t entirely her fault.  If the policy was to see inside every gift, the folks at the x-ray checkpoint should have told her that.

 

 

Part 12:  Excuse Me, But You’re In My Seat

 

     By this point in my travels, I was now a master at how to navigate all of the airports.  I was also familiar with all of the flights that departed and arrived at various places and the times at which they did so.  In essence, I knew what I was doing and could make the trip back home from California with my eyes closed.  That being said, there’s only so much an individual who is knowledgeable on how the system works can do when he boards a plane and finds someone already sitting in his seat.  This is always a delicate situation.  The first thing I do - before approaching the person - is take out my ticket and look at it thoroughly to make sure I’m not the one in the wrong.  In this case I wasn’t, so I had to confront this lady in my seat.  Now, there are tactful ways to do this.  I didn’t walk up and say, “Look lady, you’re in my seat!”  I approached with a smile and softly said, “Excuse me.  I also have a ticket for seat 5A” (knowing good and well that there’s only one ticket for 5A, but this disarms the situation by implying that it’s an airport screw-up and not the lady’s fault - tactfulness, you see).

 

     Naturally, she immediately went on the defensive - not in a rude way, mind you, but in a “just leave me alone, I’m scared” kind of way.  I produced my ticket and showed her all of the pertinent information:  Flight number, seat 5A, 1:00 PM to Louisville.  She in turn produced her ticket.  Same flight number, seat 5A, 3:00 PM to Louisville.  This was a short flight so the same flight number did not surprise me " it runs back and forth between the two airports all day long.  The thing that did surprise me is that the TSA official scanning the tickets did not flag the fact that she was supposed to be on the three o’clock flight instead of the one o’clock.  How could they possibly miss that?

 

     So I called the flight attendant over.  She was a young woman that gave me the impression that she hadn’t been doing this job for very long and had never had to deal with anything other than someone asking for more coffee or a pillow.  Great.  I presented the situation to her in as simple and concise an explanation as possible.  She obviously did not understand what the real issue was because she told me to have a seat “over there” motioning to someone else’s currently empty seat, and just “sit tight”.  I told her that someone would eventually come to claim that seat, and that she (the woman in my seat) was the one on the wrong flight.  That lady was going to arrive at Louisville to find that she had no luggage at the baggage claim.  It won’t be showing up until about 4:00.  All of this pleading with the stewardess was not enough to convince her to make the lady leave my seat and board her correct flight.

 

     And so began the seat shuffling.  I did not even bother to place my carry on in any overhead bin, as I knew what was about to happen.  So I just kept it in my lap and sat on the edge of a nearby empty seat.  I was only in the first seat I chose for about 30 seconds before someone claimed it.  It was completely embarrassing to have someone approach me and look me in the eyes while imparting a look of confusion.  Without them having to say a word I knew what they wanted and I reluctantly got up and move on to another empty seat.  This happened at least four more times before the plane filled up.  I finally went back to that same stewardess at the front of the plane.  I was ready to start raising more of a stink since I was in the right and she was being absolutely no help for me.  I wasn’t about to miss this flight just because the staff was on the side of some inept woman who was incapable of reading and understanding the information on her own ticket.  The stewardess motioned me toward an empty seat in the front row.  I reluctantly took it and waited patiently for someone to come and claim it.  If that happened, I was not going to go down without a fight.  I was a legally ticketed passenger, for crying out loud!

 

     Luckily, no one ever claimed that seat.  I think it was the only seat that was empty on the entire flight, so I was very lucky that I did not have to become irate.  However, the plastic cover on the seat’s armrest was broken and the sharp metal underneath cut into my elbow all the way home.  Also, there was no legroom whatsoever in that seat (even for a small person such as myself) because there was a carpeted wall directly in front of the seat.  A tall person’s knees would’ve hit that wall, so stretching my legs was not an option like it would’ve been in seat 5A.

 

     We arrived in Louisville and after claiming my bag, I noticed little miss seat-thief staggering around with a look of confusion on her face.  Lo and behold, she did not receive a bag and was in the process of calling over an airport official to report a lost bag.  I wanted to go over there and tell them not to worry - that her bag would be here at about 4:00, but I didn’t.  The officials would figure it out, and I was tired of dealing with that lady.  I just wanted to get home.

 

     Home.  It’s such a nice word when you’ve been on the road constantly for a month.

Reviews

[Quinn W]

I was literally laughing from the beginning! My friend came in and asked me if I was okay. I made her read and she flipped out laughing on the floor! very interesting encounters! I like that the writing wasn't formal so it sounded like you were speaking it! It was a great read all around!

[moonlit_cove]

Thank you so much, Quinn! I'm so glad you both found it funny! And thanks for taking the time to read it, I know it's a long one. I appreciate it very much.

[Quinn W]

No problem. You're so welcome!