I take back everything bad I have ever said about the TSA
Well, almost everything. We have all had those experiences when we go to the airport. The TSA agents (do they really need to be called "agents" like they are some sort of super duper spy?) at security think that their badge give them the right to bark orders at travelers and generally treat us like complete idiots. Although, I have seen my fair share of completely ignorant travelers, and can sometimes understand the agents utter lack of patience.
Rob, Cuca and I went to Florida to visit my parents. Our trip back to San Diego was probably one of the worst routes I have ever seen: Ft. Myers-Orlando, Orlando-Denver, Denver-San Diego. Unfortunately, the only time we had to get off the plane- which means that was the only opportunity to get Cuca out into one of the "Pet Relief Areas"- was in Orlando; however, our layover was only 1 hour. After taking a shuttle to the main terminal (5 minutes down the drain), I made my way to security. It was a zoo, and I quickly went into panic mode. Well, my version of panic mode, which is really a "How can I get my way without losing my mind" scheming mode. I found my targets: 2 TSA agents. I stood nearby and popped Cuca's head out of the her carrying case. Then I proceed to make sure that they could see the despair on my face. Then I called Rob and started saying in a rather loud voice "OMG Rob, I don't know if we are going to make it back through security on time, I don't think I will be able to take Cuca out!". My targets made their way towards me.
I asked Rob to hold on a second and innocently asked the TSA agents "How long do you think it will take me to go out and come back through security if I take my adorable little dog out to pee?" (ok, that last little bit about the adorable little dog did not happen). The female agent says "20-25 minutes". The male TSA agent hands me a piece of paper and says "Take this to the employee priority line and you will get through in a few minutes". Sure enough, after taking Cuca out for a spin in the grass, I marched right up to the employee line, handed yet another TSA agent my little piece of paper, along with my boarding pass and my license, and sailed right on through security. It was amazing.
So, I would like to thank that TSA agent for taking pity on me and Cuca. The next time I am in an airport and a TSA agent pisses me off, I am going to remember that moment in Orlando when a nice man handed me a piece of paper that could just as well have been the Willy Wonka Golden Ticket.
Who am I kidding? The next time I fly, I am going to forget all about that nice man in Orlando and curse every last TSA agent in the airport the minute they do something to piss me off.
- Exhibit A: middle aged woman; ring on every finger; a million silver bracelets; big belt buckle; and 1 piece of carry on luggage too many. She goes through the metal detector at least 5 times, each time removing one more article of clothing that she deemed unnecessary to remove the first 1, 2, 3, and 4 times through. By the time the TSA agent is done with her, her wig is gone, all her jewelry is in a little round plastic bin, her gnarly, unpedicured toes are showing, and her pants are falling off. But by God, she made it through that metal detector after 10 tries.
- Exhibit B: business man with laptop bag and roller bag; thinks he knows everything about the security screening process; smirks at the TSA agent while thinking "I can't believe I have to put my Blackberry down for one second to go through this ridiculous screening process"; places his newly polished shoes on the belt; takes his laptop out of the case; oh, but oops, there goes the metal detector; what's that? Change in your pocket? You don't say.
Rob, Cuca and I went to Florida to visit my parents. Our trip back to San Diego was probably one of the worst routes I have ever seen: Ft. Myers-Orlando, Orlando-Denver, Denver-San Diego. Unfortunately, the only time we had to get off the plane- which means that was the only opportunity to get Cuca out into one of the "Pet Relief Areas"- was in Orlando; however, our layover was only 1 hour. After taking a shuttle to the main terminal (5 minutes down the drain), I made my way to security. It was a zoo, and I quickly went into panic mode. Well, my version of panic mode, which is really a "How can I get my way without losing my mind" scheming mode. I found my targets: 2 TSA agents. I stood nearby and popped Cuca's head out of the her carrying case. Then I proceed to make sure that they could see the despair on my face. Then I called Rob and started saying in a rather loud voice "OMG Rob, I don't know if we are going to make it back through security on time, I don't think I will be able to take Cuca out!". My targets made their way towards me.
I asked Rob to hold on a second and innocently asked the TSA agents "How long do you think it will take me to go out and come back through security if I take my adorable little dog out to pee?" (ok, that last little bit about the adorable little dog did not happen). The female agent says "20-25 minutes". The male TSA agent hands me a piece of paper and says "Take this to the employee priority line and you will get through in a few minutes". Sure enough, after taking Cuca out for a spin in the grass, I marched right up to the employee line, handed yet another TSA agent my little piece of paper, along with my boarding pass and my license, and sailed right on through security. It was amazing.
So, I would like to thank that TSA agent for taking pity on me and Cuca. The next time I am in an airport and a TSA agent pisses me off, I am going to remember that moment in Orlando when a nice man handed me a piece of paper that could just as well have been the Willy Wonka Golden Ticket.
Who am I kidding? The next time I fly, I am going to forget all about that nice man in Orlando and curse every last TSA agent in the airport the minute they do something to piss me off.
Cuca enjoying the freedom to poke her head out of her travel bag on the airplane
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