Couple of weirdnesses today - first an earnest woman behind me in the security check line told me with great seriousness, "Excuse me, that is NOT your boarding pass!" I was holding one of those things you print off the web-check-in sites, at home, as opposed to her own airline-generated ones. So I said, pleasantly, that yes, it was a boarding pass indeed and explained how I had got it. She turned to her husband in real astonishment and said, "you mean we could have done that too?!" THEN it turned out she had two bottles of water in her carry-on and I told her that there was no way that they would be allowed through. "But it hasn't been opened yet!" she said with a perplexed frown. I said that made no difference whatsoever. She was actually still clutching them hopefully by the time she got to the guy inspecting boarding passes (and yes, mine passed muster [grin]) and it was only when the guy in question said, "I'm afraid that it's the end of the road for the water" that she relinquished her death grip on the bottles. Now don't get me wrong, I think it's an addled law, but it's, kind of, been around now for some time. This woman appeared to have just stepped out through a time warp from a happier time. I actually asked her, once we were through the machinery, when the last time was that she flew. She said, oh, maybe two years ago. Two years. Ye gods. How fast things can implode.
And then we sat for a while on the runway, apparently for no reason, and then the captain came on the intercom and said, "This is your captain speaking, there's an injured bird out in front of us on the runway and we're just waiting until they can come and get it and give it some help." I have to say, it's the first time I ever heard THAT one.
And finally, on the approach to Seattle aiport, the usual standard thoushaltnot announcements at the tail end of a flight were enlivened by a smartass air-hostess who said, "...and please refreain from smoking anywhere inside the airport building, and for the rest of your life." It took the jaded passengers, who don't really pay much attention to this sort of thing any more and have heard it all before, to parse that in the back of their minds and a subtly delayed scattering of chuckles swept through the plane.
Oh, and for the record, the restaurant concourse area in Seatac is very pleasant and high-roofed and airy and all that but ye GODS they have uncomfortable chairs. Just thought that needed to be said, is all.
Well. It appears that my next flight is from a satellite concourse, so I shall pack up now and haul myself over there and go haunt the gate. I still have at least three hours to wait for my flight, so I might go over there and sit down somewhere quiet and work on my next chapter.
More later, perhaps.
I think I need a witty travel icon....