Flying--it's not your Daddy's jet service

After 5 hours of services on Good Friday, I felt sad to leave the monastery and re-enter the faster moving world. Did I say Las Vegas International, Baby? The time warp left wind burns! Can you imagine what it is like to get in your car at a quiet desert monastery and the next time you open the door you're in Las Vegas??? The only good thing I can say is that the long-term parking was free. Of course you have to remember what quadrant of Area 51 your car is stowed but the price is right.



Las Vegas airport was designed by first year architecture students who later flunked out after too much bridge and dope. The maze and distances got to be too much and I finally had to call for a wheelchair and the pusher who got us to the correct terminal and security line.

Oh my dear faithful 18 readers--I had forgotten what airline travel is like. Three years ago I took a vow never to fly again. It was at the same Las Vegas airport when I was told to remove my shoes and walk bare-footed on their FILTHY floor and I refused. The resulting hubbub was greater than if someone had declared "no smoking" in the casino area.

This time it was even worse. It was like a cattle drive. We so easily hand over our laptops, purses, jewelry, SHOES, all belongings to the grim-faced guards. Since I was in a wheelchair I was separated from Mr. T and taken to a "private" screening area. The Wander was actually quite nice but I have no idea why I had to turn down the waistband to my jeans so she could examine the backside of the top snap. At first I thought she was doing an "innie" or "outtie" poll on belly buttons but no--she was not interested in that. Then I pointed out that the shirt I was wearing had mucho bling on it and I wondered if that would set off the wand. She was a good sport and we played with the bling and the wand for awhile seeing if we could get it to go off--no go.


















I was then put in a holding area for what turned into a very long wait. Mea culpa--how was I to know my UNOPENED bottle of water had brought the regular security line to a standstill as my potentially dangerous not-living water had to be removed from my purse. As I looked out over the masses of restless, unhappy people I became moved to actual tears. This is not America. This is not what we were meant to be. And I began to grieve for I suspect is turning out to be a failed experiment. But oh it was grand while it lasted.



By the time Mr. T had re-joined me and refrained from mentioning more than twice that he had told me to drink the water, not carry it on the plane, I was going into a patriotic slump. Mr. T recognizes such moods and quickly disappeared for a few minutes. By the time he returned I had worked up the entire wheel chair section into what good Americans should be doing when faced with the loss of their personal freedoms. Apparently he had paid some bartender good money to mix a very, very strong gin and tonic. After this welcome libation I was a bit more mellow about boarding the plane.

Fortunately, I had 2 very charming, affable row mates and as we got to chatting, all 3 of us began to lament the loss of freedom--nay, the very quelching of the American spirit. And this is when I had a brilliant idea: LET'S HAVE THE ENTIRE PLANE SING THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER! That would show them! A little planning, however, quickly revealed that none of us was likely to remember all the words and in my condition, I wasn't sure I could remember most of the first line. But we all agreed it was exactly the tonic needed to counteract the misery of flying. (In all fairness, Mr. T had to lean across the aisle a few times and request that I not begin any singing of any songs, much less the National Anthem. Then he pretended not to know me for the rest of the flight.)

But now I am in Denver, totally stone-cold sober, and re-thinking this whole singing idea. What would happen if folks standing in security lines began humming and then softly singing "My Country 'Tis of Thee"??? Everyone knows all the words to this song. How lovely it would be to irritate the Hate America First crowd, not to mention the hoardes of terrorists amonst us at the airports. It would show solidarity! It would show the American spirit is still alive. Once again we could hold up our heads as Americans! And as for those who don't know the song? It would show them for who they are. Perhaps more than a few would be shamed into learning the song. It could be the beginning of the turnaround for our whole national malaise.

So--I challenge you all. Try it! Just hum it quietly. Perhaps recruit a few sympathetic and irritable travellers in line. It just might catch on. We just might reclaim a little of the dignity we used to assume was due us for buying our tickets. And if anyone actually hears the strains of "America" wafting out over some security line in any national airport, please let me know at once!