So I was rushing to the airport… again. I hate rushing; I know I’m leaving something behind that I’ll need later on. But my flight had been pushed up half an hour. We’re over an hour’s drive from O’Hare, so we had to hurry.
We made it to the airport with less than an hour and half before the scheduled departure time. The lines were long, even for e-tickets, but they moved pretty quickly. Then I got into security. Every time I fly, it seems like they have some new rule. It’s like a game of “Beat the Clock”. I took off my shoes and had to put them in a separate tray. They couldn’t be with my backpack. Another tray had my laptop (open) and my camcorder (not on).
I was only flying to Knoxville, but I was surrounded by overseas travelers. The group in front of me didn’t speak English, so I never did find out why they couldn’t get through the security scanner. Probably just as well.
For once, my gate was somewhere closer than across the entire terminal. Despite the security setback, I didn’t have to run. I only walked very quickly. I even had time to go to the bathroom!
And when I arrived at my destination, a bit out of breath but ready to fly, I was told that – sorry, the flight had been delayed an hour.
I might have known…