Last week, I wrote a post about what I have learned from my latest flying adventure. Today I bring you part two in my series about fun with the airlines …

Drop Off – You might as well just slow down to 8 or 10 MPH and push your beloved out the car door under the Departing Flights sign. If you slow down any more than that, you’ll get in trouble by the curb police.

Checking In – I check my bag online, so I save a whopping $5. After nursing my scrapes from the drop-off, I forge through the cattle line to reach the ticketing counter Kiosk where there is absolutely nobody to help me.

After the necessary kiosking, I have to drag the suitcase to the newly added X-ray baggage screening area. I wonder if when they are done, they’ll let me take it outside and toss it into the cargo hold of my plane myself.

Security I don’t know about you, but I get all warm and fuzzy in the security line … “empty your pockets – all change – jewelry – lap tops – belts – bags – they all gotta go in a bin on the conveyor” … “take off your hoodies – your coats – your panties and bras – empty your mind of any thoughts …”

And being “wanded” is a treat. A male agent is required to ask if you prefer a female before they commence with their wanding and ask if it’s ok before they frisk you. Need I say any more?

The Gate – Ahhhhhhhhhh, at last. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Deltwest flight 923, service to Please-Get-Me-There, Florida. In just a few moments, we will begin boarding by zones 1, 2, 3, and 4.” I am zone 4. When they finally do invite us to board — ” the rest of you, get on” — I see I am one of six people waiting our turn.

I feel as though I am at the bottom of the flying barrel with the #4 slung around me on a sandwich sign. Not First class – not Elite, not even THREE … I am zone 4. I rush up to get my ticket scanned. Down the jet way I go to get stacked up with everyone else, except I am at the back of the line because I am zone 4.

To be continued just one more time…

Creative Commons License photo credit: jasleen_kaur