Travel Companions

I hate flying. I'm not afraid of take offs or landings. I’m not afraid of turbulence or terrorists. I just don't like the chaotic crush of humanity that is always the case when flying.

At the end March I had to fly from O'Hare to LAX. I was heading out to Long Beach for a conference (TESOL) that I attend every year. I realized as I was packing that the last time I flew was for this conference last year -- that time in Baltimore. I also realized that this would be the first time in a long time that I would be flying out of O'Hare.

I rarely fly. But when I fly, I often fly Southwest. They usually fly to where I'm going -- with just a couple of stops -- they are frequently cheaper, and they fly out of Midway in Chicago which is a much more manageably-sized airport for me.

This time I flew United. United is great for flying to major cities at about any time you could want. I had my pick of flights to LAX. My sweet husband drove me to the airport giving me plenty of time to make it through the gauntlet that is security.

The whole process was actually very smooth. I used an ATM-like check in for the first time. It worked quite well. A very nice security guard inspected my bag and a helpful airline employee checked it for me and confirmed my boarding pass. I proceeded through security taking off minimal items of clothing and was on my way to the gate.

I flipped through a magazine at my leisure and waited for boarding. The only glitch at the gate was the fact that the signs posted in the terminal and over the gate desk said Tokyo. The employees frequently reassured us that we were in fact going to Los Angeles.

As I waited, I realized that this was the first flight I've taken in a long time that has assigned seating. Flying Southwest made me comfortable with the prospect of choosing my own seat, and often therefore, my travel companions. On this flight I would be at the mercy of the United computer system.

I would board with the middle group. As I made my way onto the plane and greeted flight attendants who looked oh-so-happy to be serving me today, I quickly learned that I had gotten a window seat. Slowly I worked my way back to my seat. I finally spotted my row -- two elderly people were already seated there. I had to wait for a man to stow all of his worldly possessions in the overhead bin before I could politely ask the couple to let me in. They seemed a little surprised at first.

I got settled in my seat. I got my magazines and my new PDA with a very cool game on it at the ready. The woman was seated next to me -- she gestured toward my rings and said "pretty." I said thank you. She then said something to her husband. I realized in that moment that I had the best seat on the plane. Not only was I seated next to a friendly older couple -- but they spoke Italian and had very little English!

Please don't think me terrible. I have met many complete strangers and ended up having many wonderful encounters with people -- but sometimes I just want to sit on the plane and read or sleep or play Bedazzled and not have share anything with my seatmates other than the intimacy of our hips being wedged in together.

We arrived at LAX without incident. I smiled a good-bye to my travel companions and made my way to the restroom (I hate going on the plane), baggage claim, and then the shuttle vans.

I was happy to spend about five days in Long Beach with two friends with whom I share a hotel room every year at TESOL. I attended some paper presentations, a couple of colloquia, and strolled more than a few times through the exhibitors hall to flip through and buy some of the latest publications in my field. I saw long-lost friends and colleagues and stayed up way too late and woke up way too early.

I was scheduled to return on Saturday. I was hoping that the return trip would be smooth. I was hoping that there wouldn't be millions of travelers. I realized as I sat in the shuttle van that a couple of hundred people from the conference made the same plan I did (the conference actually continues through Saturday). I spent the ride to LAX talking with a group of ladies from Texas who were all decked out in perfect running suits that looked like they had to be dry cleaned. Each of them had on more jewelry that I will probably own over the course of my life.

The last stop at LAX was for United. The shuttle driver started apologizing as we pulled up. Then he said, "I'm sure glad I don't have to deal with this today." There were lines outside of the terminal that made it look like the place had been evacuated. We asked a 4 foot 11 lady in a uniform and orange vest where we should go. She blew her whistle "You need to cross through the line (whistle) then get in line inside to check in (whistle) don't get in the line to come back out here until you check in (whistle)."

I was immediately sure that checking in at LAX would not be nearly as smooth or quick as checking in at O'Hare.

I got in line inside to check in using one of the ATM-like machines. The machine recognized me via my credit card (that still really kind of spooks me), checked me in, asked me if I had bags to check, and then denied me a boarding pass. What? I calmly waited for the one employee who was working six different machines. She came by to check my bag. I asked her about the boarding pass. She gave me my gate information and told me to go there and try to get one. I booked this flight in January.

I was directed to take my checked bag back outside the terminal to get in that line. (I'm sorry, how is this safer?) I waited in that line for about 15 minutes until my favorite lady with a whistle directed a group of us back into the door we came out of (and had not moved past) to get in a short line right inside the door to have our bags inspected. The inspection didn't take very long.

Once my bag was deemed safe and taken from me, I was directed into another line just adjacent to the bag inspection line. About three of us moved over into the line. Another short woman (is there a height limit for this job?) told us that this security section had been closed and we were to cross through another line and then walk across the terminal to the other side to go through security there. (Again, I ask you, is this safe?)

I won't bore you with the circus that was this security checkpoint. Once it was finally my turn, I again got through turning on only a few appliances and taking off only a little bit of clothing. Whew.

Now I had to get myself a boarding pass. I found my gate. The plane sitting outside the gate was the size of trans-Atlantic planes. The gate area had about 20 seats and about 200 passengers -- most of them Japanese(?). I got in line at the desk. The woman working the desk got on the speaker to make sure that as few people as possible could understand her announcement that if you were waiting for boarding pass or flying standby you should get out of line and wait for your name to be called. If you were hoping to change seats you should get out of line because it was not going to happen because the flight was full. Only two of us got out of line -- what were those other people doing?

I found a comfortable spot against a support column and started flipping through the papers that I bought for Dave. I noticed off to my right a lady looking at me. I quickly glanced up and determined that I knew her but that I didn't know from where. I stared at the paper without reading it -- did I know her from the conference? Was she someone I spoke with after a presentation? Maybe she is from Chicago and I know her from the neighborhood or church. It really bothered me until my name was called and I scampered up to get my boarding pass just as they were doing the final boarding.

Since I was one of the last people on the plane, I naturally had a seat in the very last row. The plane really was a big one -- there were two aisles with two seats along each side and a set of three seats in the middle. I was in the last row, middle section, middle seat.

I really just didn't care at this point. I battled my way back to my seat down the left-side aisle. I politely asked the young woman on the outside seat to let me in. I got in, got my magazines and PDA and bottled water at the ready and buckled up. I noticed that there was an elderly lady on my left -- she gestured to my rings and said "Pretty."

The lady from the gate area was the same travel companion as on my flight out! What are the chances? She and her husband were flying this time with a younger woman who was seated with the man in the seats across the aisle from the woman I had sat next to on the way to LAX.

Again, the flight went without incident. I read and slept and read some more. When we touched down at O'Hare I waited for most of the plane to clear before gathering my things. I walked out with my travel companions and then smiled another good-bye before heading to the ladies room and then baggage claim.

Baggage claim was chaos. Many flights had been delayed due to storms out east and bags were stacked everywhere. Lots of spring breakers were searching for bags. I found a spot toward the very end of the baggage carousel and waited. I waited a long time. Dave was waiting for me while circling upstairs through the departures area trying to avoid screaming security guards. The board showing which flights the baggage was from started adding flights from places like Omaha and Cleveland. Still no bag.

Just as I was starting to get nervous, a batch of bags came out together. I saw a woman who I thought was on my flight pick up her bag on the other side of the carousel. Sure enough, my bag was there. I positioned myself to grab it. I got my bag, checked that it was mine, and released the handle. I turned to finally leave this airport and end this trip. Just behind me at the baggage claim area was my travel companion who waved and smiled at me as I left.