...
Aunty Sandy hugs me and asks me if I want her to wait there to make sure I get through okay. I say no, I'm sure I'll be fine. I spoke too soon. I walk straight to the frong of the line, give the TSA lady my boarding pass and ticket (already out so as to speed up the process and not cause problems). She says I'm going to have to go over to this other inspection line. Great. I want to ask her if it's a random selection process or if it's every ten people or if she profiled me as a terrorist. Me, a white girl wearing tevas, an over the shoulder backpack, blue linen cropped pants, a teal t-shirt, a bright yellow short sleeved hoodie with a "goofball" pin on my shoulder carrying a poppy flower bag with a nalgene hanging from the strap. I've got a friendship bracelet and hari tie around my wrist, chipped light pink fingernail polish and a cross around my neck. I wouldn't exactly describe me as threatening. Though I guess that'd be the best disguise so she takes me over to this seperately roped off area and calls for a female check. Nice.
This friendly looking woman walks up to me and talks me through the process. I have to step into this time machine looking box that will puff air at me. She warns that there will be six to eight puffs of strong air. Then the doors will open and I'll take off my shoes and go through. No big deal. Yeah right. So first of all, the air puffs bolwo my shirt almost up past my bra. Hello, world. Here are my boobs. Awkward. So I kinda giggle and the machine tells me not to move. It says I can go when the red light turns green. Only, the red light never turned green. Great. So the second friendly TSA lady sighs and tells me to come back out of the time machine the way I came in. Fabulous. They're gonna arrest me and now I'm really going to miss my connection. She's carrying my bags in one hand, smiles at me, then says into her walkie-talkie, "We've got a puffer alarm." No joke. I want to laugh but stifle it because I don't want to give them any other reason to be suspicious of me. A million questions are racing through my mind. WHat does this test for? What did they find? Are my shoes made of something flammable? Does my jewelry have too much metal? What's going on??? My eyes must have given me away because she reassured saying, "I don't know what it thinks it found, but this puffer machine tests for explosives. Ok. So I"m so freakin hot, I'm now considered explosive? Not bad... Another lady (the one on the other end of the walkie-talkie I imagine) came over and printed something that looked like a receipt from the puffer time machine. Good grief charlie brown. Now barefoot, I follow the three of them (as we've now attracted a man who is carrying my shoes) over to another area in th emiddle of the whole security area. She has to pat me down. Then they have to look through my bags, rub this cloth all over everything, then test the cloth for explosives. I peeked at the machine screen and it said I passed. Thank God. So I repack my bags, put my shoes back on and walk to my gate.
So here I am writing my first adventure down in my travel journal--and I haven't even left Porltand yet. I'm just hopng this isn't some sort off omen or sign for how the rest of my trip will go. If it is, I'm never leaving America again. Sheesh. Oh and on top of all that., I forgot my sweatshirt. Damn. I hope I don't freeze on the plane ride over there (Oh--it's winter too. I should probably buy one in San Francisco or Sydney.) or die for that matter. God bless me, PLEASE!!!
P.S. I'm hungry!!!
Monday, August 20, 2007
Monday, August 13, 2007
Holy Crap, I'm off to a rough start
August 10, 2008.... sitting in the airport waiting at my gate, writing in my little travel journal.
So Aunty Sandy and I get to the airport through all the traffic and I've got a little over two hours before I even board. So I figure we're good to go. We find a loose pushcart thing and decide to use it for free... why not? In hind sight, it was most serendipitous. I get up to the United counter and try the self-check-in. It doesn't work and prompts me to call an agent using the phone they've so conveniently placed right next to the touch screen (likely because this whole not working thing is a common occurrence). So I call and listen to the terrible music for what seems like a lifetime. I contemplate hanging up but decide to keep holding. Finally a woman answers and tells me that my flight to San Francisco is two hours late so I will miss my connecting flight to Sydney. She informs me that I'll have to catch the 5:57 flight. "talk to an agent at the counter," she says. I say things, look at my watch--it's 5:23--and the one agent manning all the self-check-in ports grumpily announces, "If you need to see an agent, go get in that line." So, with the slight glisten of tears in my eyes at the prospect of missing my flight to Sydney, I walk quickly (all luggage in tow on that fabulous cart) to the long line. Aunty Sandy sees the near tears in my eyes and tells me not to panic. I take a deep breath and calm down just in time to see this man and woman rush up and cut the entire line to talk to the next agent. GRR!!! I said almost loud enough for them to hear, "I'm pretty sure there's a line." When I finally get up there and explain my situation, the lady finds me a flight on Alaska/Horizon that will get me to San Fran in time for my Sydney flight. I declare, "Barbara, you are FABULOUS!" She explains that I'll have to go and check in down at the Alaska counter. No prob, cause guess what... i'm still going to Australia. WOOHOO!
So we trek over to the Alaska counter and I hand my itinerary over to the next lady who, upon first impression, looks like she's having a terrible day. She takes it, types a few things and says, "I can't check yo in."
"What?"
"I need a paper ticket or this needs to be electronic. You have to go back and get something different."
"Can't you just call them over there?" (Mind you, the United counter is not conveniently located right next to the Alaska/Horizon counter.)
"No that wouldn't do any good," she says, concluding our conversation.
Okay, so once again a little frustrated, Aunty Sandy and I turn to leave. She calls after us... "If there's a line, just go right up to the agent you spoke with." (P.S. I just made accidental eye contact with this adorably attractive guy a few rows over. Yum. Also, the girl behind me is on the phone with her boyfriend and she's being terribly mushy, lovey-dovey, and altogether annoyinng.) Anyway, so I go back to the United counter and feel completely guilty about not only cutting in front of everyone but saying something rude when that couple cut in front of me (a little perspective, maybe?) So I talk with Fabulous Barbara again who says it's silly they wouldn't check me in. They had everything they needed. She immediately gets on the phone with Alaska and magically fixes everything--while making jokes about rookies, "we all have to start somewhere don't we?" I thank her profusely one more time and head back over to Horizon once again to check my bags. Barb's instructions, "just ask for Liz" repeating in my head. Got it. I get up there and ask for Liz. I can follow directions. :) The guy, Daniel, looks me up and down and his eyes tell me, "We don't need Liz." He takes care of it and somewhat creepily leans against the counter with his foot up on the baggage scale... he asks me if I know where to take my baggage in this weird voice and a chill goes down my spine. He points me in the right direction and I'm finally checked in and headed toward security.
So Aunty Sandy and I get to the airport through all the traffic and I've got a little over two hours before I even board. So I figure we're good to go. We find a loose pushcart thing and decide to use it for free... why not? In hind sight, it was most serendipitous. I get up to the United counter and try the self-check-in. It doesn't work and prompts me to call an agent using the phone they've so conveniently placed right next to the touch screen (likely because this whole not working thing is a common occurrence). So I call and listen to the terrible music for what seems like a lifetime. I contemplate hanging up but decide to keep holding. Finally a woman answers and tells me that my flight to San Francisco is two hours late so I will miss my connecting flight to Sydney. She informs me that I'll have to catch the 5:57 flight. "talk to an agent at the counter," she says. I say things, look at my watch--it's 5:23--and the one agent manning all the self-check-in ports grumpily announces, "If you need to see an agent, go get in that line." So, with the slight glisten of tears in my eyes at the prospect of missing my flight to Sydney, I walk quickly (all luggage in tow on that fabulous cart) to the long line. Aunty Sandy sees the near tears in my eyes and tells me not to panic. I take a deep breath and calm down just in time to see this man and woman rush up and cut the entire line to talk to the next agent. GRR!!! I said almost loud enough for them to hear, "I'm pretty sure there's a line." When I finally get up there and explain my situation, the lady finds me a flight on Alaska/Horizon that will get me to San Fran in time for my Sydney flight. I declare, "Barbara, you are FABULOUS!" She explains that I'll have to go and check in down at the Alaska counter. No prob, cause guess what... i'm still going to Australia. WOOHOO!
So we trek over to the Alaska counter and I hand my itinerary over to the next lady who, upon first impression, looks like she's having a terrible day. She takes it, types a few things and says, "I can't check yo in."
"What?"
"I need a paper ticket or this needs to be electronic. You have to go back and get something different."
"Can't you just call them over there?" (Mind you, the United counter is not conveniently located right next to the Alaska/Horizon counter.)
"No that wouldn't do any good," she says, concluding our conversation.
Okay, so once again a little frustrated, Aunty Sandy and I turn to leave. She calls after us... "If there's a line, just go right up to the agent you spoke with." (P.S. I just made accidental eye contact with this adorably attractive guy a few rows over. Yum. Also, the girl behind me is on the phone with her boyfriend and she's being terribly mushy, lovey-dovey, and altogether annoyinng.) Anyway, so I go back to the United counter and feel completely guilty about not only cutting in front of everyone but saying something rude when that couple cut in front of me (a little perspective, maybe?) So I talk with Fabulous Barbara again who says it's silly they wouldn't check me in. They had everything they needed. She immediately gets on the phone with Alaska and magically fixes everything--while making jokes about rookies, "we all have to start somewhere don't we?" I thank her profusely one more time and head back over to Horizon once again to check my bags. Barb's instructions, "just ask for Liz" repeating in my head. Got it. I get up there and ask for Liz. I can follow directions. :) The guy, Daniel, looks me up and down and his eyes tell me, "We don't need Liz." He takes care of it and somewhat creepily leans against the counter with his foot up on the baggage scale... he asks me if I know where to take my baggage in this weird voice and a chill goes down my spine. He points me in the right direction and I'm finally checked in and headed toward security.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
And so it begins
Crap... one more reason and avenue to avoid homework.
Starting this up as a side project for an in-class project/presentation on technology, students, and the classroom. We're focusing our presentation mostly on Myspace, but we also discuss blogs. Neither my partner nor I have ever had a blog.
So I figured I'd start one. Here goes.
Starting this up as a side project for an in-class project/presentation on technology, students, and the classroom. We're focusing our presentation mostly on Myspace, but we also discuss blogs. Neither my partner nor I have ever had a blog.
So I figured I'd start one. Here goes.
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