It was our anniversary and we decided on a Caribbean Cruise. We would fly from Charlottesville to Miami, then hop aboard the Norwegian Joy and head for the western coast of Mexico, but our flight left at O-Dark Thirty on a Saturday morning. My wife, Nancy, insists on being early to the airport whenever we fly. When I say early, I mean really, really early. We got to the airport on Tuesday to give us plenty of time.
We were there so early that I had to shave three times in the men’s room before our final departure. With nothing much to do, I picked up a part time job as a baggage handler. They taught me how to switch destination tags on the luggage and we sent a few suitcases that were supposed to go to Boston over to L.A. You always want to keep passengers guessing about their bags.
During breaks, we lined up 10 suitcases like pins in a bowling alley and heaved cinderblocks to try to knock them all down with one throw. My best was seven. It takes practice. I did manage to put a significant dent in a bright green suitcase. Never buy gaudy suitcases, by the way. They’re the first ones to go down. I also made friends with the TSA guys and asked if they had nabbed any terrorists recently. John, the Head Taser, said the last terrorist they caught was in March 2012. He said business is slow since all the terrorists now are squeezing under barbed wire fences on the Texas border, but just last week he nailed a little old lady in a wheelchair trying to sneak in a bottle of water.
“Tased her good,” he said.
I asked the guys if I could help in any way and offered to pat down passengers, so they gave me the old guys with pacemakers. Four days after we arrived at the airport, they let us get on our plane.
“Glad we were early,” Nancy said.
“Me, too,” I said, “but there’s a good chance we won’t have our luggage.”
Some 6 hours later, we walked up the gangplanks of the Caribbean Joy, and it’s a big ship.