In the Eye of the Travel Holiday Storm
Tonight, I encountered something I don’t ever recall seeing — an airport check-in counter without a single flyer.
Not a single passenger, except for me.
I don’t know whether to be thrilled, or terrified. Should I be making a mad dash for the nearest exit?
It’s precisely 5:30 pm at the Las Vegas Airport. This place is supposed to be packed with travelers. I approach the American Airlines ticket counter, which always has a line. To my surprise, four agents are standing there waiting around with absolutely nothing to do.
Again, should I be loving this, or search for news about a bomb scare?
“Take your pick, Sir — we’re all here to assist you,” one of them says jokingly.
Can someone slap me please? I must be dreaming.
As things turns out, this must have been one of those once-in-a-lifetime breaks in the action when no one happened to be standing in line. Not a single person at the check-in counter. No reason for it, really. American Airlines has a full slate of flights tonight, and mine is even full, according to online check in.
Oddly enough, just a few minutes after checked in, perhaps 15-20 people wandered over and entered the line. So, I guess this was just one of those “I wish” moments that we all dream about when it comes to traveling.
Well, not quite so fast.
I’m traveling to West Palm Beach this evening, which makes this a cross-country trip — my fourth in three months. I rushed to pack. Then, I slipped on a pair of shoes and ran out the door.
Take a look at the photo below and see if you notice anything unusual:
While passing through the TSA security checkpoint, the lady in a blue military shirt running the X-Ray machine stops me. She asks if I have some kind of medical condition.
“Sir, your shoes.”
What are you talking about.
“Why are you wearing two different kinds of shoes?”
The shoes look the same to me. I’m thinking this must be some kind of test.
“When your shoes passed through the X-Ray, I noticed the lining on the shoes is different. Why would you be wearing different shoes?”
Ah, yes. I figured it out now. In my haste to pack, I must have slipped on two different shoes. I’ve got like six or seven pair, similar design, and they’re all black. One seems as good as another, to me. What difference does it make?
Well, I still have to answer the commandant’s question. Common sense stops me from making a joke about being the latest shoe bomber. “Well, I guess I’m just an idiot,” I confess. To my disappointment, the civil servant doesn’t correct me, nor does she smile.
“I’ve never seen that one before,” one of the agents mumbles to the other, as I walk away — on my two different shoes.
Come to think of it, these shoes aren’t quite the same height.
Gee, I wonder if anyone in Florida will notice?