Your worst experience on an airplane
I flew once when I was a kid – down to Florida. I actually don’t really remember it. So the first time I flew as an adult was my worst experience.
The company I worked for decided to send me on a business trip (by myself) down to Miami, FL –> in March! How awesome is that? But I had to fly – by myself. I was an adult, I could handle this….
I had an early morning flight, out of Boston, with new security measures in place. Once I finally arrived at the airport (drove around and around and around, because I couldn’t figure out where I needed to be), and parked. I hopped on out and marched my little body into the airport. Scared to death that I would be late and miss my flight, I might add.
I walked up to the ticket counter and said I had an electronic ticket: they pointed me in the direction of the kiosk. I froze. This whole experience was a little tricky (really just figuring out where to park so I could get into the airport), now they add a machine thingy that I have to figure out. Okie dokie. I can do this.
I went up to the kiosk and read the screen (read the screen (wave hand over the screen), read the screen (wave hand over the screen), read the screen…) Now that I have wasted at least 15 minutes trying to figure out what this thing wanted, I realized it wanted me to insert my credit card. The only thing is: I don’t use one. I HAVE one – I just don’t use it.
So, I stepped out of line, and called my boss. He told me to just insert my card. So I did. Halfway through answering all of the questions I realized the thing just needed the card to figure out who I was.
Once that was done I had the pleasure of security check. No problem, right? Wrong. Why is it every time I fly security thinks I need a little more security check than the rest of the group? The skinny white women with only one bag MUST be a terrorist, right?
After I do the usual security dance: take off shoes, belt, hold the arms out, watch the silly little wand beep, beep, beep. Then, yep, you are ok… Duh, of course I am. Whatever. **I do believe in high security at the airport. I just don’t believe I need to be picked every.single.time.
After security check I realize I am early and sit around to wait for my flight. Time to board – no issues here. Whew.
After we settle in for the flight, I think to myself: why do I have a chatty seat partner? Yep, you got it – early morning flight, stressful time getting onto the flight, and I get to sit next to Mister Chatty. Seriously? Yep. Once I finally convey to Mister Chatty that I can’t hear him (which I truly couldn’t), we settle in to read our books.
After we took off (wow – that was loud), I expected the seat belt sign to go off so I could wiggle, walk around, go pee, or just relax. And I waited, and waited, and waiting – and they never took the seat belt sign down. I figured they just forgot (first flight as an adult), so I took mine off.
And I was ‘spoken to’. Please buckle up. Okay, okay.
But these seats are rather uncomfortable, and I didn’t realize the air was so bumpy. I thought driving in Houston on concrete slabs was bumpy. This ride in the air should be smooth sailing (or is that just for boats in water?).
Once we finally arrived in Miami, I deboarded (is that a word?), and went looking for my bag. Then I realized. I was in a city I had never been in, meeting someone I had never met before… How am I going to figure this one out??? I shrugged and plucked my bag off the claim/corral/thingy.
When I turned around I saw a man holding a sign with his name and our mutual company name on it. He obviously was unsure how we going to find each other too. But we did.
He kindly asked how my flight was… My response: I shrugged and answered, ‘Good I guess’. He looked at me sideways and asked, why I said it like that. When I answered that they never let us take our seat belts off, he laughed and informed me I must have had a very bad flight. And they call that turbulence….