Airport Adventures

Yesterday I flew from Pennsylvania to Iowa.  As I sat waiting for my flight, I recalled the flight I took a couple months ago from Des Moines to Washington D.C. 

Grandpa, Grandma, and I arrived at the Des Moines airport just over an hour before departure.  We walked up to the ticketing agent and the lady asked if we needed to check-in first.  I declined, knowing I’d checked-in online.  After we waited in line and got to the desk, the clerk asked for my boarding pass.  Oops!  Totally forgot I’d checked in but didn’t print my pass.  So back to the kiosk we went.  Thank goodness for small friendly midwest airports!

I’d planned on going through the airport with the crutches but three airport personnel encouraged me to take a wheelchair because I’d whip right by all those waiting in line.  Hmm, I had determined to never be in a wheelchair again unless it’s to play basketball or learn how to pop a wheelie.  But I consented as the benefits on not standing in line seemed rather appealing.  

Surprise, surprise the nice ladies asked my grandparents if they wanted to go through security and assist me to the gate.  Who knew!?  So there my 80 year old grandparents who haven’t flown since before 9/11 whipped out their IDs and began the trek!

As my grandparents and I were, indeed, zipped past the long line of people waiting, I decided this is rather handy!  Budging in line has never felt SO GOOD! 

Sadly (I say tongue in cheek because this was the highlight of my morning) however much Grandma may have echoed my feelings of budging in line, they were quickly diminished as she found herself demanded to de-clothe (she’d had the misfortune of receiving false information that they no longer make you nearly undress before going through security).  Then she was taken aside, patted down, and told to stay put.  All she cared about was getting her purse but the guards held poor Grandma back!  Meanwhile, I’m sitting in the wheelchair laughing so hard I’m crying while Grandpa’s meandering through the security line looking up, down, to the right, and to the left taking everything in without knowing at all that his wife is being frisked!  Given her demeanor, she’s lucky she’s old because I’m sure she would’ve been taken away in handcuffs otherwise!

Her merriment and wonder at being able to see me off at the gate quickly turned to regret as a scowl had replaced her excited features.  As Grandpa neared the end of the belt to gather his items, he took one look at Grandma’s purse still hanging out and the tall man began scanning the area for his bride.  Finally, he spotted Grandma.  I’m wondering what his first thought was in looking at her face.  Was it, “Oh boy, maybe she won’t notice me and I can make a quick get away!”  Or was it, “This is going to get interesting!”  Or perhaps, “What has she gotten herself into?  Do I go over and help or do I stay here?”  Knowing Grandpa, I’m sure it was the latter.

The woman assisting me was attempting to conceal her humor regarding the scene before us, but was doing a rather poor job.  She bent down and goes, “I’ll bet Grandma’s never going to do THIS again!”  Just then, Grandma was freed to retrieve her purse.  She passed us while mumbling rather vocally: “This is the most asinine thing!  The most asinine!  Heather, I am NEVER going to see you off again!”  I felt really bad for her.  I did.  I’m sure she could clearly tell that my empathy oozed as I laughed and laughed and laughed and wiped my eyes dry.  Boy was she hot-fire irritated!  People were fleeing the area as fast as they could for everyone’s heard the saying, “If momma ain’t happy ain’t nobody happy.”  It’s much much worse if Grandmas aren’t happy.  They’ve lived long enough to earn the right to say their peace (Or so they think! I’m kidding Grandma...!)

I found out later that after the man had patted Grandma down he asked where her suitcase was.  She said, “I don’t have one!  I’m just here to see my granddaughter off.”  His, hopefully apologetic response:  “Oh, you didn’t have to go through all this then.”  As she related this part to me she clenched her fist together and said, “I wanted to [picture a punching motion here] POW and just give him one!!”

Once seated at the gate, Grandma says out of what appears to be no where, “it’s for the birds.”  I look at her like she’s off her rocker!  “What’s for the birds Grandma?”  “Flying.  It’s for the birds!”  Then she told me to write a blog entry about it.  So that’s just what I did.  (Grandma, just remember....you get what you ask for....) 

  

All this leaves me to ponder one question:  Do I or do I not break out my walker for my return flight to Colorado in a couple weeks?  If Grandma decides to accompany me (In which case, do I - in the name of love of course! - remind her she vowed to never fly again?) then I think a resounding yes is in order!