Flight from Christchurch NZ to Gulfport, MS 18 May 2003 | |||||||
---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
Air New Zealand | 7524H | Boeing 737 | 1:35 PM | Christchurch Intl Arpt | 2:55 PM Sunday | Auckland Intl Arpt | Seats 14A & 14B |
Air New Zealand | TBD | Boeing 747-400 | 4:15 PM | Auckland Intl Arpt | 9:15 AM Sunday | Los Angeles Intl | Seats 57B & 57C |
Continental | 197B | Boeing 757 | 11:30 AM | Los Angeles Intl | 4:39 PM Sunday | Bush Intercontinental | Seats 17A & 17B - Lunch |
Continental | 133B | Boeing 737 | 6:50 PM | Bush Intercontinental | 7:56 PM Sunday | Gulfport Biloxi | Seats 12A & 12B |
We arrived in Los Angeles and had to hurry to the LAX domestic terminal
for our Continental flight to Texas. We almost missed our connection because
of a couple of surly TSA employees who appeared to hold us personally responsible
for reputed enslavement of their ancestors. They informed us, rather testily,
it seemed to me, that it wasn't their job to get our baggage onto the airplane
on time (or at all). They were hired to check it for explosives and such,
(as if we would put explosives on an airplane we were going to fly in),
and would take their own sweet time about it. I then had to practically
strip naked in the middle of the concourse for another TSA screener who
was convinced that the 9-inch implant in my hip that beeped his metal detector
was some kind of terrorist weapon. The TSA supervisor to whom I complained
didn't seem to understand why I thought they should try to get the baggage
screened in time to so it would be on the same airplane the owners were.
In Houston we had a similar encounter with a Continental representative who informed us, among other things that we didn't really want to know, that she hated dealing with the public and didn't wear a name tag because she didn't want anyone to be her friend by using her name. We realized then that were back in the United States, formerly the land of the free and the home of the brave, currently cowering at Condition Yellow. We arrived on schedule in Gulfport, where my son David had been driving around the airport waiting for us to come out of the terminal. We got home without further incident, tired but happy to be back home (and finally away from the "Terrorist Simulation Agents"). I sat down in my chair and drew a deep breath. "Well," I said, "I'm back." | ||
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