Being the seasoned travelers that we are, the actual travel aspect of this mission trip hasn’t seemed that daunting. Months ago when booking the details of the trip, Doug and I decided that we would book a very early flight to LA, even though the flight John and I would take to Cambodia (by way of Beijing) wouldn’t leave until the early afternoon.
“You can check in when you get there and then walk over to In-N-Out Burger! You’ll love it”
“This way if there’s bad weather, we could still take a later flight and get there in time for the next leg!”
“We are sooo smart!”
This morning, Doug and I awoke our three sleeping children at the ungodly hour of 3, so that John and I could get to the airport in time for our 5:45 flight. Everything went smoothly, even though there was a huge line for security.
By 7:30, John and I had arrived in LA, only to find out that no, we couldn’t check in until 10:30, and no, LAX doesn’t have luggage lockers. Looks like In-N-Out was out.
After we finally were able to check in, we started the slog through the security line. In LA, they use sniffing dogs who make sure you’re not carrying contraband as you saunter by. For most everyone, the dog sniffs you and then moves on. No big deal.
For John, the dog practically lost his mind, sniffing and circling, circling and sniffing, wiping his face on John’s pants and basically freaking out. “Uh, son, you’re going to need to go through some extra security screenings.” Thanks, Captain Obvious.
After a full-body pat-down, search through all our carry on baggage, wipe down of our hands (for hazardous materials), and two electronic screenings, we were free to go. I think the security folks actually looked a little sad that they hadn’t caught us in the act of smuggling something awful.
As we were re-packing our bags, John blurts out, “it was the tuna!”
Did I mention that we’d had a little snack of lemon-pepper tuna during our wait to check in? Oh, and that he’d spilled some on his pants and backpack?
Mystery solved. Lesson learned? Don’t wiggle while you eat your tuna if you don’t want the TSA to hate you.
“You can check in when you get there and then walk over to In-N-Out Burger! You’ll love it”
“This way if there’s bad weather, we could still take a later flight and get there in time for the next leg!”
“We are sooo smart!”
This morning, Doug and I awoke our three sleeping children at the ungodly hour of 3, so that John and I could get to the airport in time for our 5:45 flight. Everything went smoothly, even though there was a huge line for security.
By 7:30, John and I had arrived in LA, only to find out that no, we couldn’t check in until 10:30, and no, LAX doesn’t have luggage lockers. Looks like In-N-Out was out.
After we finally were able to check in, we started the slog through the security line. In LA, they use sniffing dogs who make sure you’re not carrying contraband as you saunter by. For most everyone, the dog sniffs you and then moves on. No big deal.
For John, the dog practically lost his mind, sniffing and circling, circling and sniffing, wiping his face on John’s pants and basically freaking out. “Uh, son, you’re going to need to go through some extra security screenings.” Thanks, Captain Obvious.
After a full-body pat-down, search through all our carry on baggage, wipe down of our hands (for hazardous materials), and two electronic screenings, we were free to go. I think the security folks actually looked a little sad that they hadn’t caught us in the act of smuggling something awful.
As we were re-packing our bags, John blurts out, “it was the tuna!”
Did I mention that we’d had a little snack of lemon-pepper tuna during our wait to check in? Oh, and that he’d spilled some on his pants and backpack?
Mystery solved. Lesson learned? Don’t wiggle while you eat your tuna if you don’t want the TSA to hate you.
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