We’re still waiting at Boston Logan for our flight back to Phoenix. Our flight has been delayed twice, giving us a chance to get to know the bartender at the Legal Sea Foods next to our departure gate. Perhaps the third time is the charm, although I see no evidence the incoming flight has even … Continue reading Flight delay at Boston Logan
A cortado from a Cuban café almost made it worth the trouble of flying through Miami International Airport. Kathryn got a cappuccino from the same place. Her larger cup had a description of the café on the back. Honestly, I’d never heard of this place, but I remembered enjoying a Cuban coffee in the airport … Continue reading A cortado almost makes it worth the trouble
We’re at Miami International Airport, waiting for our flight back to Phoenix. What a shithole. For once, TSA wasn’t the problem at the security checkpoint; it was totally clueless passengers. I mean, signs were posted in nine languages, and it seems like half of traveling public here can’t read any of them. Ugh. On the … Continue reading Patiently mingling with the unwashed masses in Miami
We’re in the departure area of the airport in Montevideo, Uruguay, waiting for our flight to Miami, which should board within the hour. The security checkpoint seems to have been handled by the Air Force. It was mostly young men who appeared to have a sense of humor. The woman at the immigration desk gave … Continue reading Waiting in Montevideo for a flight to Miami
Our trip to Uruguay is officially underway. We’ve passed the TSA checkpoint, which for me is the most stressful part of air travel. Like a woman who stands by an abusive boyfriend, I’ve learned that if I’m submissive enough, the high school dropout working the body scanner will let me go without molesting my genitals. … Continue reading TSA: one’s dignity is a small price to pay for fascism
I’ve never been on a commercial flight that’s had to make a go-around, so it was fun to watch a Southwest flight do one at Phoenix Sky Harbor airport a few minutes ago. I’m sure it was a lot less fun for those aboard.
Immediately upon leaving the customs area, we were forced to walk through a narrow corridor, maybe 50 feet long, with white desks and video screens on both sides. I now refer to this as the gauntlet. In the gauntlet, roughly a dozen men and women with official-looking badges work over the fresh arrivals, trying to convince us they are our ride to our hotel. They’re not.
The flight to Iceland was uneventful. The international airport in Keflavik is small but seems very modern, although the lack of a jetway was surprising. I was through immigration control in a few minutes, and I arrived at the baggage carousel at the same time my bag did. I don’t think it took more than 15 minutes from leaving the plane to leaving the terminal.