When Least Needed, Most Likely to Happen

Since none of you have read this I'll bring you up to speed. I've noted that I have recently spent time in Puerto Rico. This is the story of how we almost didn't get there.

We had a 6 a.m. departure time from the airport. So I need to be at the airport at least 1.5 hours before that, i.e. ~ 4:30 a.m. This is all so that we can be sitting on the beach by mid-afternoon at the fabulous Caribe Hilton. We didn't pack until late into the night before we left. And the packing couldn't be finished until laundry was done. So by 10 p.m. or so we were ready to begin packing. We had to pack the full gamut of clothing styles: beach wear, casual, semi-formal and formal clothes. Packing is a process for us. Neither one of us believes the other makes adequate use of the space provided by travel bags, or dishwashers for that matter. However, in this instance I decided to be completely hands off and allow my better half to pack without influence. This worked great except that since I was not placing any of the items in the bag I wound up with about 2 weeks worth of clothes for a 5 day trip. I digress.

We packed everything and at around 1 a.m., and settled in for a very short sleep. I set the alarm for 3:30 and shut down. My lovely better half has taken to sleeping in the study when she is not able to unwind, and as this night would have it, she felt as though she could not sleep. The alarm went off, and I hit the snooze button for 50 minutes, making it 4:20. When I finally realized that the alarm was going off for good reason, at this ungodly hour, I frantically went to awake her. Explaining, to her hazed and unresponsive eyes & mind that we were desperately late. I knew that making our flight not guaranteed. In 25 minutes, we were out the door, i.e. 4:45, and I was trying to keep my fervor to a minimum. We had a 20 minute drive to get to the airport. So at 5:05 a.m., 55 minutes from departure and 45 minutes from final boarding, we are still trying to find a parking spot in the garage across the interstate from the airport.

Now, you may have cut your time this close before, but I have not. Ever. I really don't wish to again.

We parked, unloaded our bags and waited for the shuttle, which luckily was there within a minute. I thought to myself, OK, we are going to make it. However, other people had shown up in the garage at the same time as us, and our plight was no more important than anyone else's. We picked up three other people and wasted valuable time before heading off to the main terminal.

Dropped at the terminal we rushed inside to claim our boarding passes and check our luggage. At this point I was thinking that we are really going to make it. We loaded our bags for TSA to check and rushed to security. (This is a phenomenon at St. Louis airport that I haven't seen anywhere else. The passengers carry their bags to TSA trolleys. The employees at the counter who weigh the bags and check people in don't handle the bags.)

So we are at security and at this time of the morning the line is thankfully pretty short. I take out my laptop and put it into a seperate bin and put my backpack through. I place my phone in a bin, take off my shoes and move to the metal detector where Jesus Quintana apparently has started with TSA. Jesus is this guy. ------->

For those not familiar with this character, "nobody fucks with the Jesus".

The metal detector goes off and Jesus is not pleased. I take my wallet out and move through again. The metal detector goes off again and Jesus is less pleased. Confused, I look down. I can't think of anything that would be causing the alarm to go off. I have my keys in my pocket, but they don't set those things off. I take the keys out of my pocket and step through the metal detector for a third time. I thought Jesus would explode at that point. He starts yelling at me, in the way that people with newly acquired, but completely unearned power often will. Arms flailing, voice an octave or so higher than normal. I am stumped. Then a stranger asks if I have a belt on. I do. I remove it and Jesus gives me the evil eye. I should note here that over numerous flights for the past 13 or so years I have never once had a metal detector go off as I went through. So, of course on this morning it would happen. 3 times. With Jesus watching.

I'm through the metal detectors and putting my shoes back on with about 20 minutes until departure. I'm still a bit concerned about making the flight (final boarding is only 10-15 minutes away), but I'm more concerned that my backpack has not come out of the X-ray machine. Additionally, the number of non-Jesus TSA employees gathering at the TV to peer into my backpack is growing quite large. This cannot be good. I start to go over what all I have in there that could possibly be drawing attention. I have a flashlight, a headlamp, a digital camera, 2 flip video cameras (1 in an underwater case), 2 books, and 2 dive masks and snorkels. At this point we are told that one of us has to stay with TSA. I said I would and asked a woman what the problem was. She was very curteous, and explained that the way the items were packed looked suspicious. I said that there was nothing that was a problem, but she said all items would have to be pulled out and inspected! Of course they will. First, they do the chemical swipe to make sure there is no "bomb" residues. This has always seemed a little odd to me, but I don't want them telling me how to do my job. This takes way too long. Then every item comes out and is inspected. Mask & Snorkel, perhaps that is my breathing kit for whatever nefarious scenario they had worked out for me. Video camera with AA batteries. Obviously, this could be used in some bad, bad way. Anway after a gut-wrenching 10 minutes they clear me to leave. The woman offers to help re-pack the backpack, but the pace at which she removed items tells me that it will take even longer to get everything back in. There was after all an order to how I had the items packed. There was no time for properly placing items back in. I crammed everything into the backpack as fast as I could and ran to the gate.

8 hours later we were on the beach. We had 5 wonderful days in the surf, sand, and sun.


We almost didn't make the flight back home, but that is too much for me to think about right now.