“Are you moving house?” The Delta associate at the check –in counter looked amused. “Eh, something like that…” Our 6 bags of roughly 60 pounds each were kind of embarrassing, however. “But we’re staying a couple of months”.
Dragging them into the airport building from the Florida open air steam room, we were ready for a shower. Truck stops provide this useful amenity. No such luck, but at least we were down to just manageable carry-ons. The next challenge brought on another moment of perspiration: the dreaded security procedure. Standing barefoot, filling the bins with everything they want to scrutinize while the next person behind us in line is breathing down your neck, sighing impatiently, while we take out computers, Ziploc bags with non-descript liquids etc, I broke out into another sweat. A taste of German check-out lines in supermarkets − in case you haven’t had that experience. There are no baggers to help you. Instead the next customer nudges his cart stealthily into your heels if you’re too slow.
Next I’m escorted to the full body scanner while my husband is being whizzed past. Let them say what they want about the privacy of your private parts or lack thereof about these machines; you don’t see it yourself. Low and behold I had a forgotten key in my pocket which triggered of an extra pat-down. More sweating. Sorry, a lady perspires. After that we both needed a drink if only in lieu of a shower. Finally we board and are on our way.
In the meantime, we’ve arrived at our destination and are online again. But first things first…
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