Oh HELL no. I’m not giving up my Cinnabon cinnamon roll because it might make someone wish they’d gotten one too. Every last man, woman and child aboard that plane, INCLUDING my seatmates had the same opportunity to stop by Cinnabon’s and buy one too.
Same with hamburgers for that matter (though for me, I really don’t like fast food hamburgers or french fries, and I’m sure not wasting my “free day” calories on them), every other person had the opportunity to stop by and get what they want to eat (and probably SHOULD considering the nasty glop they try to pass off as edible on planes nowadays).
When flying out of SLC Intl. use the red bins. At the entry to the security station there are several folding tables with bins to hold your stuff while it goes through the x-ray conveyer. Grey bins.
I took a trip to Dallas three weeks ago, my first flight since well before 9/11/01, and was naturally a little nervous about what to expect. As I approached the table, a hurried man came from behind me and started chucking gear in the bin I had intended to use. No worries, I grabbed one of the red bins from the other side of the table and started filling it up.
Shortly a security agent came up and said “Sir, the red bins are for baggage or people who have been chosen for extra scrutiny”
He offered me a grey bin, and the rest of the process was as smooth as possible. Guess they figured I was to stupid to be a terrorist. ;j
When I flew into Amsterdam all I had was a carry-on and a backpack. My backpack had all my bathroom stuff and various other small items. So my backpack goes through the x-ray, I walk through the scanning doorway, pick up my backpack, and, … not so fast buddy, one of the security guys grabs my backpack from my shoulder.
He walks over to this table, opens the backpack, tips it upside down and unloads the entire contents on the table. He looks at me. He touches an item on the table, he looks at me. He touches a different item on the table, he looks at me. Somehow these guys have a sixth sense about things. They know if they touch something “sensitive” you are going to let them know with some kind of body language. Well I had nothing to hide, so I wasn’t worried at all, just a bit miffed that all of my personal items were sprawled out on a table for the whole world to see. (Well I was a bit worried, I thought maybe they might have a restriction on brining shampoo into the country and decide to arrest me, or something else just as ludicrous.)
So he finally decides I’m clean. He just turns around a walks away. He doesn’t say, sorry, or ok you can go, nothing. So I stand there for awhile wondering what’s going on. A minute or so later he comes over and says, get this stuff out of here (he might have even mumbled, stupid American, but I was used to that by now). Yeah, it’s my fault all my shit is scattered all over your table, right? Well, anyway, I didn’t cop an attitude, I packed up and went downtown for refreshments.
Interesting, as SLC is the first place I’ve heard of using different colored bins. I’ve made fairly recent flights out of ABQ, BWI, MDW and OHR but I’ve yet to see anything like that. I’m not sure what they mean by baggage, as my backpack goes on the belt and everything in my pockets plus my coat (in winter, anyway) goes in a bin.
You should see me; I’m a master. I can remove my jacket, my watch, my rings, my belt, everything in my pockets, AND take my shoes off and arrange them all in the little plastic bins, pulls my laptop out of by briefcase and have everything ready to go through the X-ray and never even stop walking.
I don’t travel by air very often, but I use the following system: my carry-on bag has several outside zippered compartments. As I approach the security gate, everything in my pockets (except for my boarding pass and ID) and anything else which might conceivable set off the metal detector goes into one of those compartments. This includes my change, which was already in a zip-lock baggie for ease of transfer. The last time I flew, I even wore sweatpants so I didn’t have a belt to worry about.
Arare: mochi crunch, rice crackers… Japanese snack. See here for a pic. I love this stuff (and so does my cat), but whooooowheee! It’ll make your breath stink. Who’da thunk that rice and shoyu (soy sauce) could make your breath powerful enough to knock someone over?
Mmmm. Fresh hamburgers… some of the airports have things like Chili’s and other chain resturants in them: they’re normally good, or as good as that particular chain resturant gets. (Just don’t think about the price.)
Cinnabons… now those I wouldn’t mind smelling, since they usually don’t last long enough for the smell to get annoying.
Speaking of scents: as with anything, context and amount counts. Please don’t douse yourself with perfume/aftershave/other scented items before getting on the plane, or while on the plane.
(Offers CanvasShoes a bottle of Coca-Cola in trade for some of the Cinnabon? )
I was flying to the east coast once for a cousin’s wedding. The registry present I had gotten them happened to be a really big, nice, kitchen knife, in that classic psycho shape. It was all gift wrapped and so forth, and I’d completely forgotten that it was a knife. I was just thinking of it as a gift, since it was all boxed and wrapped and so forth. So I put it in my carry-on bag. And when it was going through the X-ray, the guy asked me “do you have a knife in your bag?” and I said “no”. Becuase why would I have a knife in my bag?
Fortunately, this was pre-9/11, or things might have gotten ugly.
Do not ask young women in the airport who happen to be minding their own sweet business to watch your luggage for you while you go take your business call in a more “private” location. Do not get lippy when that individual quietly refers you to the announcement on the loudspeakers that aired FIVE SECONDS BEFORE YOU ASKED concerning not looking after luggage for strangers. Sir, I am highly unconcerned with the fact that I appear as though I am “more likely to be from a terrorist country” than you are. If you’re gonna sit there and make an “important business call” in the Terminal of Shaft at O’Hare (every airline 'cept United), expect the fucking place to be crowded as hell. And if you really want to leave, take your goddamned suitcase with you. Otherwise, turn off the cell and wait till you get to Pittsburgh.
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