I had occasion to be out of town for a couple of days on business. A flight to Edmonton, a drive to Calgary and a flight back to Abbotsford. For me, that is a big deal. I don’t leave town very often.
Being an unseasoned traveller, this created a bit of stress and anxiety. Making flight and hotel reservations to fit the itinerary of my meetings was not nearly as easy as the travel commercials would have you believe, and dealing with time zones and airport codes meant much double checking.
Then, after reading all the ‘Important Notices’ that come with the printout of my ticket, I had more stuff to stress about. I was only taking a laptop bag and a small carry-on bag. But was it small enough to be considered carry-on, or would I have to check it? I measured it and it seemed to be within limits so I relaxed a bit, and printed off my boarding pass.
Arriving at the airport, I had plenty of time to get though security. I watch the people ahead of me to see what I’m supposed to do. My turn at security is going well, until I pass through the gate and the alarm goes off. I’m asked to step to the side and raise my arms. I immediately feel guilty and I would probably have admitted to anything.
As the guard passes the wand down my legs, it goes off again. It seems the elastic sleeve I have on my wonky knee has metal strips on each side. The guard questions me and then he says, “Can you pull up your pant leg up or….?”
Now I’m not sure exactly what ‘or’ was and even though, as per my mother’s instructions, I was wearing clean underwear, I yanked up my pant leg. He checked to make sure that I had not concealed a switch blade or a Glock, and I was let on to the plane.
The plane does not crash in an inaccessible crevasse in the Rocky Mountains and we land in Edmonton. It is brown and cold, no flowers and only a few green leaves and a lot of dust. I ask my friend who picks me up if this is because they now have an NDP government, and he advises me that spring doesn’t come to Alberta until sometime in June.
Our meetings go well and the time comes to travel home. I am much more comfortable now and I’ve mastered balancing my laptop bag on my carry-on bag and I’m wheeling along like everyone else. My knee brace is in my bag and I scoot through security coolly like James Bond, instead of pulling my pant leg up and down like Barney Fife.
They have made sure I have no lotions, liquids, sharp instruments, C-4 explosives or weapons of mass destruction. I feel secure. Then I go to the departure lounge, which is like a mall. I find that I can buy lotions, liquids, glass bottles of wine, sharp aboriginal carvings or manicure sets with scissors that I can put in my bags and take on the plane.
I figure the Canadian airport security has been designed by ISIS or Al-Queda.
Simon and Garfunkel sing, ”Gee but it’s great to be back home,” There is no security check at my front door ”And home is where I want to be.” At least that’s what McGregor says.
