flying

Springfield IL airport

Here it is, 2014, and we are in the airport of Springfield IL, the capital of Illinois. I’m amused to see the actual, in-use, antique airport luggage scale at the check-in counter.

Springfield Il airport

We are leaving Springfield. Landing here, less than 24 hours ago, was remarkable. The Skywest jet’s wheels hit the runway hard and—nose up—we immediately took off again, bumpily. We were in row 2, so clearly heard one of the flight attendants exclaim “oh my god!” No explanation came from the captain. Just silence.

The whole plane was silent. Deadly silent.

We rose higher and banked steeply, overlooking the green-green-green of Springfield’s farms. Finally, many minutes later, the captain came on over the P.A. It was gusty, he said, with severe wind sheer on the runway. He’d try to land once more—otherwise, we’d go to another airport.

I looked down at the trees—we weren’t very high—and didn’t see any movement at all. No swaying branches, no bending poplars. He’s probably just a bad pilot, I thought. He botched the landing.

We circled once more, then aimed for the runway. Any white-knucklers onboard must have been beside themselves.

It was bumpy, but we landed. The clothes of the tarmac personnel whipped about their bodies. I descended the airplane stairs certain I’d be blown down them with my hand luggage acting as a sail.

Springfield Il airport. More interesting than I expected.

Luggage self-check at Schiphol Airport, Amsterdam

Luggage self-check

Luggage self-check? There’s nothing new about self-checking in and getting boarding passes from an airport terminal. The KLM check-in machines at Amsterdam’s Schiphol Airport were the best I’ve ever used.

Luggage self-check: Anticipating that your hands are full, the machine even has a little shelf for your convenience. — Anticipating that your hands are full, the machine even has a little shelf for your convenience.

Luggage self-check: Answer the machine. — Answer the machine.

This was the first time I’ve ever completely checked my own luggage. In fact, we didn’t speak with a human at all before our flight.

The luggage self-check machine was actually sort of fun to use. Instructions on the large screen were clear and simple. “Scan the barcode on your boarding pass” gets you started. Then it asks how many bags you’re checking, and tells you how to place your bag on the platform in the little luggage cave.

The machine spits out a bag tag and tells how to attach it. No need to peel off a backing; the label is ready to stick. The luggage self-check machine then waits for you to do as it has instructed.

Once you’ve confirmed that your bag tag has been attached, the machine swallows your luggage.

A gate rolls down, the luggage platform rises and rotates, the back wall slides up, and the suitcase is dumped onto a conveyor belt.

The luggage self-check process is repeated for each bag. Finally, the machine prints out a baggage receipt.

Unanswered: What happens with an overweight bag? How is the payment done?

It’s all very quick and efficient. There was no waiting when I used the system. The machine communicates clearly and politely, which is about the best we can hope for. You won’t get a rude or stupid bag-checker, but you won’t get a friendly one, either.

And yes—all our bags arrived at our destination.

airport baggage flying luggage travel

Outrageous excuse delays return of found lost luggage

“We can’t export your found lost-luggage because it contains an artificial hand which requires the permission of the ministry of health.”

I’m starting with the punchline of our recent Egypt Air debacle. “Shall we retain the artificial hand and release your bag?”

Lost luggage

We’d flown to Cairo and on to Hurghada, where only two of our bags made it. The lost case contained our stage props, including the gypsy costume you see in the photos. I wear a doll in a sling, which appears to be supported by what is actually a fake arm. The arm is sewn to the doll.

Apparently Egypt’s ministry of health was not concerned about exporting an artificial child.

The missing prop bag was still in Cairo, Egypt Air officials said, and would arrive on the next flight to Hurghada. So next morning, we made the hour-long trip back to the airport and—of course—no luggage.

Promises… delays…. Finally, the bag arrived in Hurghada. A driver was sent to pick it up. It took too long though. By then we were down to the wire. The driver, finally on his way back with the bag, gave his ETA as 20 minutes. But we were forced to move on. We could not wait. After all, we’d come to perform and the show must go on. Props or no props.

The suitcase was passed to DHL, who was to ship it to Dubai, the next stop on our Middle East tour.

“We need a detailed list of what the case contains,” DHL now requested. Our exhaustive reply included “Fake female arm with jewelry and sleeve (stage prop).”

DHL piddled around with lazy, ineffective emails and before they were ready to ship, we’d left Dubai, too. It was an unfunny comedy of errors, and we were beginning to wonder if we’d ever see our bag again. Instructions were revised: DHL must now ship the bag to the U.S.

We were already incredulous over this real-life display of inefficiency–and then the punchline came. We figure someone was fishing for baksheesh. “After inspection, we found item like artificial hand. We can’t export artificial hand.”

OMG! Seriously? Are we supposed to offer a bribe, or what? Was this extortion? Was Egypt accusing us of an illegal arms export?

I wrote back indignant: “This is NOT an artificial hand, it is a hollow PLASTIC PROP for our show!” I pointed out that the “fake female arm” was number 22 on the proforma invoice I had submitted, and attached a photo of myself with the artificial hand holding the artificial child.

And that was it. The bag showed up at our house the day after we returned home.

More lost luggage

But that’s not all. We flew home on Qatar Airways. We checked our three bags to our final U.S. destination. Upon landing in Houston, we claimed our three bags, took them through customs, and re-checked them for our US Airways flight. All three went missing!

Two days later, we had them back. So I’m not complaining. Just reporting an extreme travel farce. Travel is glamourous!

baggage corrupt egypt flying luggage scam travel

Traveling with luggage

I’m sure it sounds obsessive to mention the necessity of onboard watchfulness when you fly. The likelihood of theft while on an aircraft is low, granted; but it’s unpredictable, and that’s the problem. If you’re carrying valuables, say cash, jewelry, even credit cards, you may as well continue with your precautions. The risks are to the carry-on items you can’t see: those in the overhead compartment can be ransacked practically under your nose—or above your nose. Those under the seat in front of you are vulnerable if you sleep or leave them while you get up. [Read Kayla’s experience, below.] I want to stress that these are low-probability scenarios, especially if you’re not traveling alone. Your degree of precaution must harmonize with your comfort level and the value of the items you carry.

Sadly, suitcases are occasionally compromised while in the airlines’ possession. The odd unscrupulous employee needs only the moment of opportunity. It’s well-known that most luggage locks are next to useless. Keys are generic, and even combination locks have certain pressure points which free latches.

Halliburton

Bob and I believe in hard-sided luggage. The ones we use are aluminum, made by Zero Halliburton. They’re not for everyone, being both heavy and expensive. But when our bags were forced with a crowbar or other tool somewhere on the nether tarmac of the Miami airport, the locks and hinges held tight. Shiny scars in the seam, as if gnawed by a metal-eating mouse, were the only evidence of serious tampering.

As we watch our silvery Halliburtons trundle off toward baggage handlers in Lusaka, in Santiago, in Mexico City, filled with sound and video equipment or perhaps with our favorite shoes from Florence, we’re eternally grateful for and confident in their sturdy locking mechanisms. Even more so after trying desperately and failing to break into our own locked suitcase when it jammed once in London.

Of course bags like these do call attention to themselves and an argument can be made for using inexpensive luggage. One world-traveling couple we met swore by the cheap stuff. After repeated thefts from their Louis Vuitton cases at Heathrow airport, they resorted to department store brands, buying new bags every year or so. A small price to pay, they say, given the cost of their trip and value of their belongings. That’s their argument, but I don’t buy it. I say buy the best bags you can find and afford and use their locks [whenever possible].

Excerpt from Travel Advisory: How to Avoid Thefts, Cons, and Street Scams
Chapter Three (part-e): Getting There—With all your Marbles

Theft on a plane

“Kayla,” a 15-year-old girl, told me how her wallet was stolen on a cross-country flight. Her mother and sister supported Kayla’s story. The thief was a 35ish woman sitting next to her. In the middle of the flight, the woman bent down and pretended to be digging in her purse. But Kayla felt something and looked, and could see that the woman was digging in her (Kayla’s) purse. Kayla said she was too scared to say anything. The woman got up and went to the bathroom. Kayla checked her purse and found that her wallet was gone. She told her mother. Then she and her mother told a flight attendant. The flight attendant found the wallet in the bathroom, missing only Kayla’s cash. Kayla was still too afraid to say anything to the thief. When the plane landed, the woman just left.

flying lock luggage planes security theft travel

It was a long series of flights to South Africa last week, for a three-day visit. We were upgraded to first class on the Denver-to-Frankfurt segment, and got a day room at a Frankfurt airport hotel for a rest and a shower. In total, it took 43 hours to get there.

If we don’t fly business class, we almost always take an exit row, the better to accommodate Bob’s long legs. A number of qualifications must be met in order to sit in the exit rows. You must be over 15, understand English, be physically fit, be willing and able to help in an emergency. We were surprised to see then, on the Vegas-to-Denver segment, a nonagenarian couple in the exit row. When the plane landed, we greeted the couple in the airport and audaciously asked their ages. “75, both,” they claimed, instantly ready with their lies.

Another couple boarded early from wheelchairs on the Frankfurt-to-Cape Town segment. Upon landing, they pushed their way off the plane quickly and rushed to be first in line at immigration—suddenly able-bodied.

On the trip, I listened to the whole four and a half hours of Laurie Anderson’s United States Live. The two-night concert was recorded live in Brooklyn in 1984.

… you know, to be really safe you should always carry a bomb on an airplane. Because the chances of there being one bomb on a plane are pretty small. But the chances of two bombs are almost minuscule. So by carrying a bomb on a plane, the odds of your becoming a hostage or of getting blown up are astronomically reduced.

That was from “New Jersey Turnpike.” “The Night Flight From Houston” is on another Laurie Anderson album I listened to:

It was the night flight from Houston. Almost perfect visibility. You could see the lights from all the little Texas towns far below. And I was sitting next to a fifty-year old woman who had never been on a plane before. And her son had sent her a ticket and said:
“Mom, you’ve raised ten kids; it’s time you got on a plane.”
And she was sitting in a window seat staring out and she kept talking about the Big Dipper and that Little Dipper and pointing; and suddenly I realized that she thought we were in outer space looking down at the stars. And I said:
“You know, I think those lights down there are the lights from little towns.”

The trip home from South Africa was over 33 hours.

flying travel

My travel stats

I’ve made 69 take-offs and landings so far this year. There will be nine this week. I’m holding reservations for 27 more this year—so far. I’ve stayed 89 nights in beds not my own, these first seven months, or on airplanes. This appears to be a downward trend.

Last year I made 115 take-offs and landings. I stayed 176 nights in beds not my own or on planes.

In 2006 there were 117 flights and 184 hotel nights. 199 hotel nights in 2005; 222 in 2004.

Getting there used to be half the fun. That is rarely the case now-a-days.

flying hotel travel

Social engineering vs. security theater

For a cross-country flight, I packed a lunch of deconstructed sandwiches. Slices of homemade walnut bread, a handful of arugula, a tomato, and a repurposed deli-container full of homemade crab salad. The crab salad was moist with mayo, lemon, and chopped apple. Spreadable, if not quite liquid, mostly filling an 8 oz container.

I didn’t expect it to pass security, so I was ready with Plan B: I’d back out of the security area, construct the sandwiches, and try again with the less-dense contraband.

So I’m pushing my carry-on along to the scanner belt when the TSA man on the x-ray calls for assistance. “Log-jam,” he says.

“They’re moving now,” I say, having straightened someone else’s bag. Mine goes through.

“I’m just trying to keep her busy [wink],” the TSA agent says, jerking his chin toward his colleague as she inspects the flow of bags.

I lock eyes with him. “Good strategy,” I wink back, and he doesn’t even glance at the screen as my bags sail through, crab salad and all.

Ah, social engineering vs. security theater. I love it.

flying liquids security security theater social engineer TSA

Honolulu Hong Kong

Someone sleeping on a plane. How many people try using this gizmo more than once?

I’ve never understood the logic of this neck contraption. It pushes the head forward—but for sleeping, wouldn’t you rather have your head back? If I had one, I’d wear it backwards. But I don’t want one. I wonder how many people try this thing more than once? Does it work for anyone, or is it just a scam, like the “throw your voice” gimmick I ordered off the back of a cereal box when I was eight? This guy eventually put it in his lap.

Hangin' in Honolulu. — Hangin’ in Honolulu.

They really hang loose in Honolulu. This man, a former Minnesotan, told us he’s been “tropicalized” after living in Hawaii for 30 years. He works in Honolulu’s oldest bar. I took his picture with his permission.

Hong Kong’s famous skyscrapers are just beyond this hill.

flying hawaii hong kong honolulu islands planes travel

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