July 3, 2024
Although some people are used to flying and to the hurly-burly of moving through airports, I found it a pain in the butt flying from Ottawa, ON, to Vancouver, BC, and then to Portland, OR, and back. The entire experience, especially clearing security, which I found a bracing experience, only reinforced my dislike for flying.
Preparations for our flight started a few days before departure. I set the alarm clock for four a.m. to get used to an early start. I wanted to make sure the alarm clock worked, and it did. Such an early morning start is not my typical schedule.
I reserved a taxi to take us to the airport the night before but was worried about what would happen if it did not come. In that case, I thought of taking our car to the long-term parking lot and hauling our suitcases a mile to the airport. But the taxi came and messaged me fifteen minutes before the reserved time that it was on the way and again when parked on our driveway. Impressive.
Leaving our house involves shutting off the water main in case of a leak that may flood the basement and installing the alarm system. Since I did not want to carry my heavy keychain on the trip, I left a key hidden in the garage but also put a house key in my wallet in case the electricity would be off coming home, making the garage door inoperable, in which case I would use the key in my wallet to open the front door of the house. I think of all the situations that could go wrong; maybe I am paranoid.
Arriving at the departure lounge, I showed the airline attendant our boarding passes, printed at home, and asked what we needed to do next. She asked if we wanted to use the self-serve kiosks or talk to someone to get our luggage tags. I found her question strange: why would she not just help us? She seemed as if she did not want to be bothered by passengers before six am. However, hearing our conversation, a colleague quickly came forward and offered help with a smile.
After this rude welcome, though, the airline attendants were excellent during the rest of the trip, including subsequent legs with the same airline. For example, when paying for a sandwich on the plane, the stewardess noticed my Aeroplan card in my wallet and recorded the card number for the purchase, adding points to my account.
Next came the security check. I hate putting my wallet and passport on the long conveyor belt, afraid of losing or someone stealing them, which could happen when they pat me down looking for the metal in my body. I usually point to my hips, where I had joint replacements, to help security staff locate the metal. I know there is no need to do that since they use a wand to pat down my entire body, but I feel better by trying to help them. I walked through the x-ray machine, and an agent patted me down with a wand for fifteen minutes. Then, he asked me to lean against the wall and lift my shoes’ soles for visual inspection.
In contrast, the security check was more detailed on the trip’s second leg from Vancouver to Portland. The inspectors opened my carry-on suitcase, and my “Kindle” enjoyed a second trip through the X-ray machine. I always place my laptop in a basket, but they told me at the Ottawa airport that I did not have to take out my Kindle and put it in a basket since it only has a virtual keyboard! Then, they also removed my toiletry case, extracted a Swiss knife and a brand-new shaving foam container, and confiscated both items; I should have known not to carry them in the carry-on. They also asked me to remove my shoes and belt.
Instead of the walk-through X-ray machine at the Vancouver airport, I stepped into a surround X-ray machine that showed all the metal inside me to security so the inspectors did not pat me down. That saved over fifteen minutes. The only uncomfortable feeling I had was my pants were sliding off without the belt; I had to pull them up every few minutes.
The two experiences made me consider whether the security procedure is the same at every airport. I would bet that it is a standard procedure, except that its administration was different: the security was sloppy in Ottawa.
Do not get me wrong; I understand the need for security, but how it is delivered seems to invade your privacy. The inspectors see your meds and toiletries, which I may not want to share with anyone. It also takes time, and I am nervous about having my wallet and passport on the conveyor belt for a considerable amount of time while they x-ray me.
Having gone through security, we walked into the waiting room, the next phase of air travel that often brings unpleasant surprises, such as an announcement of a delay on one of our flights on our return trip. The uncertainty and waiting can be frustrating, adding to my dislike of flying.
On arrival, we had to find the baggage claim area. For some reason, the baggage claim area was the farthest from the landing gates at both the Vancouver and Portland airports.
Reflecting on our recent experience of how long it takes to get to the airport, go through security, experience delayed departures, wait for baggage pickup at the destination, and then grab a cab to where we stay, I would rather drive for shorter trips. The convenience and control of driving often outweigh the hassles of flying unless it is a cross-country trip.
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