Flight day......
As I wander into Denver International Airport, I make my way up to the United Airlines "counter" to check my bag. I soon discover that the counter is actually more of a self-serve kiosk. I could tell that half of the customers were thoroughly confused as the poked at the touch screen as if were the Pillsbury Doughboy. Behind the counter, there were several United employees. Their job was to drift from station-to-station to assist people as needed. It seems to me that things could be handled way more efficiently if the employees were doing the actual baggage check in the first place. But, from what I assume is an attempt for the airline to save a few bucks, we're left to do it ourselves.
And speaking of checked bags, there's also the issue of charging for this "service". In United's case, it's $25 per checked item (under 40 pounds). Since my suitcase itself weighs about 10 pounds, this only leaves my 30 pounds for a weeks' worth of clothes and a winter coat. If I go over the 40 pound limit, I will be forced to pay another fee. Obviously, all of this has the potential to tack on a substantial sum of money for a vacationing family. As a result, people opt-out of checking their bags and carry them onto the plane to avoid paying any fees. More on this later.....
As I make my way into the main part of the terminal, two airport employees direct me to the screening area where "the line is much shorter". I head over to the security line which is growing as it snakes back and forth. If this is the "shorter line", I'd hate to see the other one! We are poked and prodded through the line like clueless cattle by the various TSA agents. I accept that the security screenings are a way of life in a post-9/11 world. However, it irritates me knowing that 99.9999% of all passengers are harmless and totally undeserving of the screenings, pat-downs and gropings.
After about twenty minutes, I finally make it to the point where you take off your shoes, belt, watch, dental fillings or any else that might set the metal detectors off. I then step into the body scanner where my image is sent to an unknown TSA screener in an undisclosed location. I can't help but feel like a Peeping Tom victim every time I go through this process.
Somewhat relieved, I make it through without setting off any bells or whistles. I gather up my belongings and head to the tram that will take me to the Gate B of Denver's large airport. The tram is full of anxious passengers. Every time the underground train stops and starts, people practically falls on top of one another.
As I make it to the B Concourse, I find a place to sit. Although the flight isn't scheduled to leave for another hour, people have already begun to stand in line at the various boarding stations. Scanning the crowd, I see a very familiar face at the front in boarding group A. It's none other that Oriole legend, Cal Ripken Jr. My mind drifts as I imagine getting a seat next to the Ironman and talking Orioles baseball all the back to Baltimore. But reality soon kicks me in the head as I realize that Cal is in the First Class section while I'll be huddled with the rest of the cattle back in the coach section. Oh well, sometimes it's fun to dream....
I eventually board the plane, hoping that my neighbors for the next few hours will be anorexic runway models. I don't mean to be insensitive, but the skinnier these people are, the more room there is for my fat ass in the middle seat. As I approach my seat, I see that there is no one else in the row yet. I sit there and watch the other passengers struggle to fit their oversized luggage into the overhead bins. When it becomes clear that some of these bags won't physically fit, a flight attendant announces, "Folks, we'd like to leave on schedule. If your bag won't fit into the overhead bin, we will check it for you at no charge."
WTF?
So, people like me, who play by the rules, get stuck paying $25 to check our bag. But the people who clearly violate the size limit of the carry-on rules get to check their bags for free? What is wrong with this picture??
As I feel my blood pressure rising again, I am comforted when a young lady. who happens to be the size of an Olympic gymnast, interrupts my mini-stroke and asks,"Excuse me, can I squeeze by you? I've got the window seat."
Shortly afterward, a surprisingly thin guy sits in the aisle seat to my right. I finally relax, knowing that I won't be crushed into numbness on the flight home. God bless skinny people!
As my flight progresses, I kill time by digging into John Grisham's latest book. Before I know it, we are descending into BWI. The gymnast next to me is sound asleep. The flight attendant wakes her to tell her that she needs to return her seat to the upright position. Here's something that I never quite understood. Since we're already pinned in our seats like veal, why would the airlines even allow seats to recline? Through the years, I have spilled multiple airline cocktails because some asshole in front of me decided to aggressively recline his seat.
Anyway, we eventually land and make our way to the baggage claim area. As I see my brand-new bag coming around on the carousel, I notice a large scuff mark on the side. Did the plane run it over on the way to the gate? I guess you have to pay an extra $25 if you don't want your bag f*cked up?
If you've ever flown before, you can probably relate to a lot of these things. If not, just be prepared. Isn't flying just grand??
kw
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