Tag Archives: TSA

Throwback Thursdays! The Interminable Terminal

Originally seen on The Phil Factor 08/10/2013

airplane

“Stop calling me Shirley!” I had to fly this week for work, and as always air travel is an adventure. Figuring that Mondays are busy at airports, because of all the business travelers, I got there about two hours before my flight to give me plenty of time to wait in lines and get some lunch before I got on my plane. All went as I had planned until I got to my gate about 15 minutes before the alleged boarding was to occur. My flight was delayed for an hour. So I got all Edward Snowden-like and went up to the girl at the Cinnabon counter and requested asylum. She didn’t seem to appreciate, or understand,  my brilliant current events humor.

I was flying somewhere for a job interview that I was very excited about and while I sat there waiting for my flight to board all I could think of was the verse from the Alanis Morrisette song Ironic  that goes: Mr. Play it Safe was afraid to fly, He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye, He waited his whole damn life to take that flight, And as the plane crashed down he thought “Well isn’t this nice…” And isn’t it ironic…don’t you think? Yup. Seriously. I couldn’t stop that song from playing in my head like it was on a loop. How awful is that?

My comedic genius was also not appreciated at the security check where, just for fun, when I stepped into that tall, round telephone booth-like scanner where you hold your hands over your head, as soon as it started I screamed as if my skin was on fire just to rattle the first time fliers nearby.

body_scanner

That kind of behavior may explain why my checked luggage was searched on both my way to my destination and on my return the next day. I had a small suitcase. When I got to my hotel and opened it, it appeared as if the contents had been ransacked by a rabid monkey on Red Bull. Of course it had one of those oh-so-courteous notes telling me that TSA had “inspected” my luggage. My brother works for TSA, so I’m considering photoshopping a picture of him in his TSA uniform doing something terribly unspeakable with the President and putting that photo in my suitcase just to give them something else to think about next time they inspect my luggage. I’m also saving that TSA letter and putting it in my luggage when I pack just to confuse them the next time they do it.

Lastly, if airplanes are so technologically advanced that they can do whatever voodoo it is that makes a 200 ton object float in midair for hours, why do they still use the seat belts from a 1955 Buick Skylark?

seatbelt

If only I had my own airline…

air phil

As always, if you enjoyed your stay at #ThePhilFactor please return your seatbacks and tray tables to the upright position and click the Facebook, Twitter, or reblog share button below before deplaning. Have a great Thursday! ~Phil

The Interminable Terminal

airplane

“Stop calling me Shirley!” I had to fly this week for work, and as always air travel is an adventure. Figuring that Mondays are busy at airports because of all the business travelers I got there about two hours before my flight to give me plenty of time to wait in lines and get some lunch before I got on my plane. All went as I had planned until I got to my gate about 15 minutes before the alleged boarding was to occur. My flight was delayed for an hour. So I got all Edward Snowden-like and went up to the girl at the Cinnabon counter and requested asylum. She didn’t seem to appreciate, or understand,  my brilliant current events humor.

I was flying somewhere for a job interview that I was very excited about and while I sat there waiting for my flight to board all I could think of was the verse from the Alanis Morrisette song Ironic  that goes: Mr. Play it Safe was afraid to fly, He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye, He waited his whole damn life to take that flight, And as the plane crashed down he thought “Well isn’t this nice…” And isn’t it ironic…don’t you think? Yup. Seriously. I couldn’t stop that song from playing in my head like it was on a loop. How awful is that?

My comedic genius was also not appreciated at the security check where, just for fun, when I stepped into that tall, round telephone booth-like scanner where you hold your hands over your head, as soon as it started I screamed as if my skin was on fire just to rattle the first time fliers nearby.

body_scanner

That kind of behavior may explain why my checked luggage was searched on both my way to my destination and on my return the next day. I had a small suitcase. When I got to my hotel and opened it, it appeared as if the contents had been ransacked by a rabid monkey on Red Bull. Of course it had one of those oh-so-courteous notes telling me that TSA had “inspected” my luggage. My brother works for TSA, so I’m considering photoshopping a picture of him in his TSA uniform doing something terribly unspeakable with the President and putting that photo in my suitcase just to give them something else to think about next time they inspect my luggage. I’m also saving that TSA letter and putting it in my luggage when I pack just to confuse them the next time they do it.

Lastly, if airplanes are so technologically advanced that they can do whatever voodoo it is that makes a 200 ton object float in midair for hours, why do they still use the seat belts from a 1955 Buick Skylark?

seatbelt

If only I had my own airline…

air phil

As always, if you enjoyed your stay at #ThePhilFactor please return your seatbacks and tray tables to the upright position and click the Facebook share button below before deplaning.

Jerks on a Plane

Oh it’s a big pretty white plane with red stripes, curtains in the windows and wheels and it looks like a big Tylenol~ Johnny in the 1980 movie Airplane!

 Travel is always good fodder for a blog post and my trip this week was no different. Here are some things I learned waiting in the security line:

1) If you’re over 75 you don’t have to take off your shoes or jacket. Apparently TSA believes that there is a mandatory retirement age for terrorists.

2) TSA also believes that only medical professionals wear scrubs and the rest of us are completely unable to obtain these super secret garments. While waiting in line I noticed a guy behind the cordoned off area in scrubs. Then a few minutes later I noticed he was well ahead of me going through the scanner.

In summary, I’m going to dress up as an elderly physician next time I have to fly. I’ll be through security in minutes.  Unless of course I have to get my hands dusted. When I went through the scanner, an alarm pinged. I quickly checked my pockets thinking I might have forgotten some change. No, I was informed, I had been randomly selected to have my hands checked for explosives. I flexed my biceps and replied, “If you want to see something explosive check these out!” (Thanks to my friend Mike G for that joke)  Needless to say, after hearing that line the entire security area, passengers and TSA, broke out in lighthearted laughter. Lighthearted laughter in the security line? Just kidding, that would be a first.

Almost as soon as my plane left the ground chaos ensued. We weren’t given permission to move about the cabin but suddenly people were getting up and running willy-nilly in the aisle because it was a little chilly. It looked like an elementary school hallway at dismissal time.  Overhead compartments flew open up and down the plane as panicked passengers grabbed coats and blankets. The captain came on the p.a. announcing he was turning up the thermostat. Holy crap, I thought to myself, what a sense of entitlement these idiots have if they think it’s ok to violate FAA safety regulations because they might be a little chilly for a few minutes. If I was the incognito federal marshal on that plane I’d have been tempted to stand up and point my gun at these dolts telling them to sit down and shut up. Or maybe I’d just show my biceps again.

The worst offender of fashion and airline etiquette was Captain Denim. He was a roughly 60 year old gentleman with greasy hair receding  in front but long enough to reach the collar of his denim jacket in the back. He was also wearing denim jeans with the elaborate, bright stitching that draws your attention but also makes you think This guy really doesn’t have the kind of ass he should be drawing attention to. As soon as our plane touched the runway Captain Denim popped out of his seat and took down his Volkswagen-sized suitcase and planted it in the middle of the aisle. The flight attendant  had to tell him very sternly three times to put it back in the overhead compartment until we reached the gate. Again I thought about pulling out the biceps but I figured this wasn’t the place for my particular brand of vigilante justice. And I didn’t want to get laughed at.

Seriously, I do want to thank TSA and the airlines for getting me safely from place to place. They do a tough job and do it well. Writing a blog is tough too and if you like what you read here please hit the Facebook share button below. Have a great weekend!