Me + travel = putting it into perspective

In the movie "Paul Blart Mall Cop" the actor Kevin James says "I don't drink" before during and after making a complete fool of himself while drinking. If I were co-starring in this movie with Kevin, my line would have been "I don't fly."

I flew for the first time in 1985 with my French class to London. They sat us in the nose of the plane (no kidding, the space came to a point)and off we went. When we were half way there, the flight personnel began to offer us alcohol because we were far enough along to be under the auspices of the European drinking age of something like 9. I was 17 and the chaperones were all asleep. I had a beer and a motion sickness pill and slept the rest of the way.

I flew several other times in the following years and truly never had any problem. Then, in 1999 I boarded a plane to Germany to visit my dad. I had learned 24 hours before that I was pregnant with Alex. I quit caffeine cold turkey (something I do not recommend on an international flight where jet lag will most certainly be a factor) and off I went. Somehow, during that flight, I decided I was afraid to fly. I don't know if it was the fact that I was carrying a passenger of my own or the lack of a liquid stimulant coursing through my body but I was less than comfortable even WITH alcohol.

I fly a lot. I refuse to let it control my life so I take a Xanax with an alcohol chaser and off I go. Today, I arrived at the airport in Kansas City at 11:00 am for a 12:40 flight. The beauty of the KC airport is that it is extremely user friendly. There are like 5 people who work here and the luggage carousel is next to the ticketing counter. When I checked in and began to go through security I was told my plane was delayed and wouldn't I like to go have lunch? Sure. I had nothing else to do so I processed to the nearest bar and had a salad and a beer. The airport is not very big but I did have to walk from one end of the terminal to the other to find a watering hole. The bar was next to the American ticket counter. I used the restroom across from the American counter and then walked the (felt like) mile or so back to the "Frontier" gate.

I don't usually carry on luggage as I typically like to pack one outfit for everyday plus a spare for everyday and in order to pull this off I need to pack in something the size of a garbage dumpster on wheels. I don't know if it is old age or what but I significantly downsized for this trip and fit everything neatly into a carry on size piece.

Now, because I never carry on I am less than familiar with the regulation size for liquid materials. I packed toiletries like I always do and fortunately, most were in travel sizes of 3oz or less. The toothpaste was larger but my nice new security officer friend told me he would let that slide. What he could not allow me on the plane with was my shampoo and conditioner. I am in the habit of being frugal with shampoo and typically only buy 99 cent Suave products. However, last week I was having my hair cut and decided to splurge on Redkin Blonde Glam shampoo and conditioner. To say it was pricy is an understatement but I kept thinking of the commercials that Diane Keaton is in and decided I was worth it. The security officer did not agree though and my pricy blonde glam was confiscated. I began to hope that my hotel in D.C. carried shampoo AND conditioner because I hate the bottles of the 2 in 1 stuff like Pert that often come complimentary in hotels.

After being thoroughly checked for other shampoo-related terrorist belongings, I was released just in time to have the security alarm go off. Some would-be passenger had been let into the gate via some back and illegal door and the attention of the security staff went from me to the newest breech of security person. I eyeballed my blonde glam in the trash and briefly entertained the idea of re-claiming it and sneaking it on the plane. I decided against it and plopped down in a seat across from the boarding gate door. I got my phone out to begin to text my friends to pray for me because like I said, "I don't fly."

The problem is, my phone was NOT there. It was then that I turned into a crazy woman and lost my mind. I unpacked EVERYTHING right there on the floor and dumped out my purse. Nothing. I ran back to the security friend and asked if he could watch my bag while I left the secure area to look for the phone. He told me he could NOT watch my bag and had already gotten into trouble after he left me earlier in mid security check to run to the woman who had set off the alarm. I don't think we are friends anymore.

I RAN out of the terminal and sprinted the mile back to the bathroom where I had been. It was not there. I ran 180 degrees in the opposite direction to the Frontier counter to see if anyone had turned in a phone. As I ran past my gate I noticed that the boarding line was dwindling. The Frontier ticket agent told me to pick up a white phone and call airport security so I did. The nice security man on the phone told me he did not have my phone but if I gave him the number he would call it. I gave him the number and waited. Then I told him my phone was OFF. Wow. I am not even a REAL blonde.

I ran the mile back in the opposite direction to the American counter where my restroom was and got in line. Sweat is pouring down my face. Makeup is running onto my white turtle neck and my lower lip is quivering. I finally get to my turn in line and heave myself and all of my belongings toward the agent and ask if anyone had turned in a cell phone. My agent did not have it........but the agent next to him DID. I missed my flight and slumped away to a chair outside the American terminal.

As tears streamed down my face mixing in with the running makeup I found myself staring at a cement wall. I have no idea how long I sat like that but eventually my phone, now in my hand, vibrated. I looked down to see a text message that said "this is airport police. If you find this phone please call this number." I started to cackle and laughed myself silly for 10 minutes. People stared and I made my way the mile back to the Frontier counter and changed my ticket to the next flight to D.C. I was originally scheduled to leave at 12:45 and then 1:30. My new departure time is 6:40 pm. I have been sitting in this airport for 4 hours already and I have another 3 to go. Things could always be worse. The KC airport has free WIFI allowing me to blog and receive papers from students via e-mail to grade. I have my health and the streaks on my face have dried. My blonde glam hair is beginning to unstick itself from the back of my neck and soon I plan to get up and look for an outlet to charge the phone that was thankfully found.

I don't fly.