I’ve done a lot of flying over the last few years, so I consider myself something of a pro at it. I know how to pack my bag such that security never gives it a second glance going through the x-ray machine (leaving home my collection of antique WWII grenades was a big help.) I understand that it’s not necessary to have your drivers license out when you go through the metal detector, but it is necessary to have your boarding pass. I know that standing up the second you pull up at the arrival gate actually does not get you off the plane any faster.

Yesterday I nearly blew all my accumulated efficient-flying karma. I had an afternoon flight to catch, but didn’t want to leave work sooner than I needed to, so I sort of waited until the last minute, and left my house with about 55 minutes to go. No problem, 20 minutes to the airport, tops, and then breeze through security and get to the gate just as the last boarding group is being called.

On the last bit of road before the airport I was faced with a decision; turn left and go to the long-term lot and catch the bus to the terminal (which I usually do), or hang a right and do daily parking at the airport (for a whopping $8 a day instead of $4). Some nagging voice was telling me to go right, but I ignored it like I most often do. Big mistake. I got on the shuttle bus right after I parked, which was great! Then we drove around for another 10 minutes picking up all those smarmy assholes who got to the airport 2 hours ahead of time like they’re supposed to. Not so great! Get to the terminal, run to the checkpoint, breeze through security, grab the bags and take off at a run/jog/trot for my gate, which of course is the one at the very end of the terminal. My shoes aren’t even all the way on, and I’m scrunching up my toes inside to keep them from flying off. The woman at the gate is looking right at me and yelling “Passenger Comroe?” as I approach. “That’s me, I made it!” She scans my boarding pass, gives me “the eyebrows”, and on the plane I go, high-fiving the other gate agent walking up the jetway on my way.

Sweaty but triumphant I grab my seat and buckle up, assuming that we must be ready to push back. After all, they were holding the flight for me, right? Hah! Not so. We waited for another twenty minutes before the cabin door was closed, apparently because we were missing an ashtray in the aft lavatory. Huh? The pilot got on to explain that it was an FAA regulation that all the ashtrays had to be there, even though you couldn’t smoke on flights since at least 1998. Stupid red tape.

My brief layover was at Houston’s G. H. W. Bush airport, and it’s the worst airport ever. I had to walk clear from one side of the airport to the other to make my flight. Where’s the nice tram like at DFW? Or Newark? I also forgot that I was supposed to get a “meal” (i.e. a lame-looking turkey sandwich) on my 2nd flight, so instead a spent $8 on some gross chicken and rice at Panda Express.

One nice part of the 2nd flight was that soon after takeoff we were skirting an electrical storm. I have never seen one from the air, and it’s completely fascinating and beautiful. The lightning is constant, with ripples flowing from one side of the clouds to the other. Most of it was obscured by the clouds, so it just looked like flashbulbs going off at a red carpet event, but occasionally you could see clear bolts of lightning arcing across the sky. At that distance they looked like small bony fingers reaching out for something just out of their grasp. I thought about trying to take some pictures, but the cabin lights were on, and I don’t think they would have come out very well. I’m lame.