I am traveling today. I love seeing different countries, counties, cities, and communities. I love the discovery of new things to do, places to eat, and occasionally I like meeting new people. To say that I like to travel, however, is a lie. I do not travel well. Sometimes, like when I sit at a gate, stop paying attention, and fail to board even though they announce my name and therefore miss my flight, it is my own fault. Other times, like, every other time, it is the complete ineptitude of mass transit, airlines, airports, power-tripped TSA agents, and the more than occasional idiot people also traveling that day that causes my travel woes. Today was no different. Except it was.
It's a business trip to Pasadena that pulls me into the airport this time. Although I am fully aware of my tendency to not prepare, I went to bed last night unpacked, with no plans for getting Pax to my friend SAB's house, and little idea of how I was going to get to the airport. I also failed to print proper documents that needed my review prior to this meeting. Thankfully, I had a very productive morning and accomplished all of that in record time. To reward myself for miraculously accomplishing in a few short hours what would normally take me a day, I took myself home early and headed for a relaxing (and needed) manicure and pedicure. Not. At. All. Relaxing.
Toward the end of the session at Rendezvous Nails, nails in the dryer, and payment made, a young man randomly stopped at the window and made a bizarre salute. I happened to have been staring out the window at the time and caught his eye. Quickly I realized that this man was missing more than a few marbles and immediately became fascinated with the scar on my right foot. Bad idea. Seemingly frustrated at my lack of interest, the man began waving his arms frantically and making loud, primal sounds. Then, frustration grew to anger and he raised both fists and banged them against the window with enough force to shake the building (doesn't bode well for the structure during an earthquake). While the window continued to vibrate, women in the salon asked if I knew the man. When I responded quickly in the negative, the technicians began speaking very, very, very quickly in a language I could not determine.
The owner of the place left her customer and ran outside as soon as she saw a police car cruising the street. The slow pace of the first car made the following three look like a Nascar qualifier. Then came the fire trucks and an ambulance. I exited the salon after being assured by the owner that she had seen the man tackled and handcuffed. Standing in front of the public library was a gaggle of housewives and construction workers, watching the mayhem. A few people just wanted to get back inside their houses, but were being blocked by officers. Rumor had it that the culprit had been brought to the ground with a huge gun. LDL reminds me that a taser looks a bit like a gun. But my travel day continues and I cannot wait to hear the reason for the chase.
You would think that my travel day would be cake compared to the heart racing event that had just taken place. Please, this is my life we're talking about.
I arrive at SFO after a rough half hour in traffic but have experately packed my bag and printed my boarding pass. As I enter the security line, a TSA agent grasps my elbow and asks if I am alone. Yes, sir. I am traveling by myself. He points to the tiny shoulder purse I am carrying and tells me that I must put it in my computer bag as it adds to my total count. A small roller bag, compact computer bag, and a tiny purse are not allowed if you travel alone. TSA tells me that he will let me pass if I put my purse inside my suitcase prior to arriving to the ID check. Yes, sir. I'll be happy to do that as soon as the line stops moving. Before I have a chance to do so (my ID is in the purse, so it needed to stay out until I arrived at the ID check), the same agent motions to me, moves the line rope and ushers me out, yelling about my "3" bags the whole way. Before I leave the line completely, I shove my tiny purse in the pocket of my suitcase, show my ID to the other TSA agent, correctly say my last name and walk calmly to have my bags inspected.
Come Fly the Friendly Skies.
My flight is now delayed an hour. Super Shuttle will have stopped running by the time I land. At least I have the entertainment of a young mother flirting with a random young man sitting across from me. I've never been so thankful for ESPN3.com and it's available replay of the greatest comeback I have ever seen. If you haven't seen it, you're missing out. Seriously. www.espn.com; www.fifa.com; www.espn.com/espnw. Watch it and watch USWNT again on Wednesday.
