The following story can be summed up with a tip, more of a survival tip than a travel tip: Always keep a change of clothes in your car. If you wonder why, read on...
People might not remember this, but you used to be able to pick someone up at the airport by meeting them at their gate. That's right, you could go through the security check point without a boarding pass or photo ID and find your way to the arrival gate. Then, when someone you loved got off of the plane, you could be right there with a smile and open arms, wishing you had thought to bring flowers. Yes, those were the good old days, when you could bring knives onto the plane whose blades were "no longer than four inches."
It was back in college that I was working as a lifeguard during the summer. I'd spend days at the pool and nights at the beach, practically living out of my car. Clothes, books, towels, and flip-flops in various stages of dampness littered my car. This was the summer after my freshman year, and my boyfriend from college was coming to visit me. He was taking an airplane, and I was to pick him up after work.
It was another humid day at the pool, and I had managed to sweat through my shift without diving into the cool water to save anyone (not that anyone needed saving, mind you, I would have done at least that much). So, before I headed to the airport, I jumped into the pool to cool off. Ahh... I got out, ran to the car, spread my towel across the seat and drove the half hour to the airport with the windows open and the moon roof cracked.
I was cool and dry when I got to the airport and right on time to meet the plane. I reached into the backseat for some clothes, but came up empty-handed. Discarded water bottles littered the floorboards, and nothing but paperback books were in my back pack. I did find a pair of flip-flops, so I put those on and got out of the car in the parking lot. I briefly considered walking into the airport in nothing but my swimsuit and flops. But, no. I may have been a blond college girl living at the beach, but I still had my dignity. Instead, I rummaged through the trunk and discovered a rain coat. It was really more like a trench coat, brown with lots of pockets, but I put it on, buttoned it, and even knotted the belt. I walked through the double doors into the airport, head held high, without stopping to scrutinize my new look (flasher) in the reflection.
Once at security, I removed my sunglasses, and I placed them in the little plastic bowl. It went through the x-ray machine and I, through the metal detector- BEEP. Obviously, I had forgotten to take out my wad of keys. Worse, I had forgotten which one of the various pockets they were in. I backed up, pressing my hands into every pocket I could, while muttering, "my keys, my keys." I must have intimidated the guard with my eloquence and costuming because he looked me up and down to say, "M'am, why don't you remove your coat." It wasn't a question, I know, but I had my dignity. I summoned it. Then I replied, "I can't. I don't have any clothes." His jaw dropped, and I realized what I must have looked like, wearing just a trench coat and flip-flops. So, to explain myself, I added, "I'm coming to pick up my boyfriend. Just got off of work." And thankfully, right then, my hand landed in the correct pocket and closed around my key ring. I pulled it out triumphantly, threw it into another plastic bowl, and strutted back through the metal detector, without so much as loosening my trench coat's belt. Security guy just stood there with his jaw still hanging open as I picked up my sunglasses, keys, and beelined for the gate.
I smiled to myself and laughed out loud, imagining what he was imagining! I couldn't wait to tell my boyfriend, who would get a kick out of it and probably help take the charade a little farther when we passed by security again. Maybe he could do a thumbs up or a knowing man-nod to security guy. That would make our day.
Once at the gate, I discovered, however, that my boyfriend's flight had been canceled. So, sans boyfriend, I turned around and hung my head on the long walk back through the airport. My getup seemed to be drawing more stares now, or at least I began to notice them; and when I approached the security checkpoint, it was obvious I had lost jaw dropping status with security guy. Suddenly all of the security personnel paused in their duties to look, no gape, at me as I passed by, embarrassedly pulling the sunglasses over my eyes. It was an eternity as I tried to coolly walk by unnoticed. I finally released my breath and might have convinced myself not to be embarrassed when I heard the laughter, not at all muffled, by the security crew. Alone, I shook my head and shook it off.
Typical, as is still the case, that airport security would get the last laugh.
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