Sprats on a Plane: Air Travel in the Age of Terror

A couple weeks ago we flew with friends to Kaua'i from Grand Rapids via O'Hare and LAX. The other couple had invited us to stay with them in their time-share condo on the ocean in Poipu. I think we rewarded their generosity with a good deal of entertainment on the trip out.

First, Leigh tried to smuggle two cans of low-carb Slim-fast through security at GRR. For some reason she didn't think restrictions applied to this substance (something like: "It isn't a beverage, it's a meal in a can, and food can be taken through security.") She got mad at me, claiming that I knew she had it, which I didn't, and that I should have told her it was contraband, as if it weren’t obvious. My asserting the two positions noted in the previous sentence didn't ease the tension for some reason. I must have been the picture of savoir-faire, standing aside from the queue just upstream from the conveyor in my socks, holding up my beltless pants with one hand and chugging a Slim-fast with the other.

Then the woman running the scanner rescanned one of my carry-ons two or three times and asked if they could open it. Turned out I had a pen knife, blade about 1.25", in the pocket of shorts I hadn’t worn in six months. I was glad to have the pen knife back and was fortunate to have time to go to the gift shop and mail it to myself.

Bystanders would never have guessed we were traveling on frequent-flyer miles.

Somewhere in the midst of this pandemonium I had this thought: A guy gets caught with a bomb in his shoe, now we all have to take off our shoes at security; somebody tries to smuggle nitro or acid or something in a shampoo bottle, now all liquids and gels have to be in containers no larger than 3.4 liquid oz, and all those containers have to fit in a clear quart-size zip-lock baggie, to be presented for inspection (my wife can't possibly fit all her necessities into one of these bags, with the result that airport security people now assume, based on the contents of my zip-lock bag, that I am a female impersonator on my way to gig); all this led me to hope that someday someone tries to get on an airplane wearing a brassiere bomb.

Our six-hour flight from LA to Kaua'i began with a kid two seats behind me screaming nonstop for two hours--not weeping but screaming as in pain or terror. The kid seemed to have a hell of a set of lungs for an infant. I got a look at the little angel later and saw that he was about three years old. What is a fitting and just punishment for parents who let a three-year-old scream on a plane for two hours? Flogging? Water boarding? Maybe electrodes applied to the genitals.

I missed this exchange due to my hearing deficiency, but Leigh told me about it later in the flight. It takes the jet-lagged and sleep-deprived a few minutes to work through all the ramifications of such a remarkable statement.

1. Twelve-month-old infants have night terrors?????

2. How would anybody know????????????

3. If the kid is screaming due to night terrors WHY THE FUCK DON'T YOU WAKE IT UP?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

A physical disability isn't always a bad thing. My deafness probably prevented an incident that would have made CNN. ("Plane turns back to Hawaii after man throttles witless bitch with screaming infant.")

The experienced traveler

We arrived at LAX to find our AA flights to Chicago and Grand Rapids had been canceled. They rebooked us on a later flight to ORD, but there were no later flights to GRR Saturday. They said we could spend the night in Chicago or maybe catch a different airline to GRR.

We accepted the new boarding passes and sat down. I said to our friend that I knew you could get to GRR from LAX through Dallas-Fort Worth. He added that if we could somehow get to Detroit we might have a chance, or at least an easier drive and cheaper rental.

Luckily, we spotted an AA agent at a desk where no one was checking in. The guy worked at his computer and phone for about 20 minutes and got us onto Delta flights to Cincinnati and GRR. We got to GRR at 9 p.m., only about five hours later than our originally scheduled arrival. 36 hours without lying down, 24 without a shower...we were ready to get home.

We flew across the Pacific both ways in 757s. The American version has narrower aisles, wider seats and larger overhead bins than the Delta version. Delta gives you some morsels of free food. Neither one offers hermetically sealed and soundproofed baby containers.