Considering there was a failed terrorist attack on a U.S.-bound airliner on Christmas, the fact that I made all my connections on flights from Oakland to Grand Junction, Colo., the day after Christmas seems like a miracle.
You’d have to call it perfect luck, actually, in this modern era of airline travel.
Still, it was anything but uneventful:
• Picture me in the Salt Lake City airport on the way out — I’m running on a moving pathway with a laptop bag in one hand and guitar in the other. A departure delay left me with 10 minutes to cover a great distance across the airport to the outdoor gates where my connection was boarding. Along the way a woman shouts at me “Hey, Jim Dyar, what are you doing?” It’s a Facebook friend from Salt Lake City who recognized me. Weird. Who says you don’t make real connections on Facebook? Then, I hear my name is being called over the loudspeaker when I reach the gate. I barely make it on.
• Upon returning a rental car in Grand Junction, I’m attempting to drag my suitcase through the snow when one of the handle rails breaks on the back of it. Now it’s really awkward to drag it around. Then a paper bag I’m carrying with two bottles of wine breaks and a bottle bursts on the pavement. I’m picking up pieces of glass in the snow, which is stained blood red. If I were watching me, I might report this as very suspicious behavior.
• Back in Salt Lake, the connection to Oakland is delayed 40 minutes, then, once aboard, we spend an hour sitting on the plane before it takes off. Lower back screaming at me and we’re not even in the air.
But this was all the perfect scenario.
I heard stories of people stuck all night in Denver. A woman sitting next to me had spent seven hours waiting in Salt Lake.
Air travel remains a marvel, don’t get me wrong. I’ll never ceased to be amazed that huge jetliners can take off and land on snowy, slippery runways. And considering that runways must be snowplowed and airplane wings de-iced, I understand the inevitability of delays.
In winter, your plane gets a shower and they call it de-icing. Really?
I guess it’s best to sink into a zenlike state and accept that everything can change when you enter the world of air travel — especially during the holidays.
News blaring from the TV monitors in every airport I passed through continued to regurgitate all the angles of the terrorist bombing attempt. Not that it wasn’t a big story, but I got the feeling it was the only hot item on the burner plate of the news cycle.
It’s an odd sensation to be flying and have most of the stories you hear be about flight safety. It’s like all the news stations are concerned about you and your fellow travelers. Kind of comforting, actually.
The security measures seemed about the same to me. Shoes off. Belt off. All my junk taking up multiple plastic trays. I’m thankful I wasn’t passing through security at a huge airport.
And here’s a tip most of you already know: Don’t even consider making a joke about anything at the security checkpoint. I did that once a long time ago (long before 9/11) and was scolded. These days I think they just shoot you.
