Last weekend I went to Reid's wedding in Little Rock Arkansas. It was a great time, and I'll post pictures shortly, but I have an amusing travel story.
I flew in and out of Memphis so I could visit Sal. Flying out of Newark was a breeze, it took me about 10 minutes from the time I walked in the door until I sat down at my gate... mind you, over an hour before boarding time, which about drove me nuts because I was so disappointed in myself for allowing so much time. Seriously though.
The way back, however, was another story.
My flight out of Memphis was at 8:30AM. So I got to the airport at 7:30, naturally.
I do the automated check-in, turn around and see hundred of people standing in a line. And I think to myself, there is no way in hell that is the security line at the Memphis airport on a Monday morning at 8:00AM.
Oh but it was.
So what did I do but pull out my Subway Chronicles book (great read, by the way, very amusing if you've ever ridden the NYC subway) and just hope I made my flight.
I get near the front of the line and I am informed by a woman stating (very firmly) that the reason the line is moving slowly is because people don't have their liquids in a one quart bag. All liquids, gels, lotions, glosses, shampoos, blah blah blah have to fit into a one quart bag, sealed, and it must be separated from everything else, taken from your bag and placed in a separate bin to be scanned.
You have got to be joking.
Oh but no.
And even I hadn't really had everything all nicely sealed in a bag, it was just kind of all in the side pocket of my duffle bag, half in the real small little sandwich bag I had brought, which, by the way, no one cared about in NEW YORK CITY security.
So I go through the security point and I see the woman look at my bag. And look at it again. And then call over the security dude and say, "This one." as she pointed to my orange adidas duffle bag that is approximately 8 years old and looks like it has been through one too many track meets.
By this point it's, oh, say, 7:50am.
So I sit calmly beside the nice man with his purple latex gloves as he looks through my entire bag.
When he finishes he looks at me and says, "Hmm, there's nothing in here."
(Really? No kidding! I guess I must have hid that Bra Bomb really well!).
I smile at him as he says, "Well, I guess she told me the wrong one."
So basically what you're saying is, Osama just waltzed onto the plane while I just barely had time to get my Chai Tea Latte and New York Times at Starbucks and line up for my flight so you could look through my jeans, tshirt, and cocktail dress?