That’s what I need to do and where I am. . . LAX airport that is. Â Just when I think air travel has gotten as trying and stress-inducing as it can possibly get, a new annoyance is introduced to vex me sorely.
It’sÂ hardÂ toÂ believeÂ butÂ thereÂ wasÂ aÂ timeÂ inÂ whichÂ IÂ thoughtÂ having aÂ jobÂ thatÂ requiredÂ frequentÂ airÂ travelÂ wouldÂ beÂ theÂ ultimate in fun. That wasÂ probablyÂ becauseÂ IÂ didn’t takeÂ myÂ firstÂ tripÂ inÂ aÂ commericalÂ airlinerÂ untilÂ IÂ wasÂ aÂ SophomoreÂ inÂ college.
ByÂ theÂ ageÂ ofÂ 26Â IÂ hadÂ onlyÂ flownÂ 3Â times.Â But I made up for lost time after that.Â
OfÂ course,Â backÂ inÂ thoseÂ daysÂ itÂ wasÂ easyÂ toÂ believeÂ thatÂ the appeal of flyingÂ wouldÂ neverÂ dim.Â But somewhere between the airlines’ figuring out how to scientifically make sure that every single flightÂ is overflowing with squalid humanity; the shoe bomberÂ makingÂ itÂ necessaryÂ toÂ queueÂ upÂ inÂ sockÂ feet;Â
andÂ theÂ IslamicÂ shampooÂ chemistsÂ makingÂ itÂ impossible to have some Aqua Velva in your carry on,Â the exercise has lost a bit of its charm.
I’mÂ sureÂ myÂ forbearersÂ whoÂ traveledÂ fromÂ TenneseeÂ toÂ TexasÂ inÂ theÂ mid-1800sÂ byÂ horsebackÂ andÂ buckboardÂ would cryÂ meÂ aÂ river.