No I said all I have is a reservation, and handed him my passport…He asked me where I was going. This I knew. Someplace warm I replied. He gave me a look and I could tell he wanted a more specific destination, so I replied Portland and then San Francisco.
He pressed some keys on his computer, but I could tell he would rather be using the tablet all the other gate agents had. I got my boarding pass and bags checked, and didn’t notice that my boarding pass was not as usually marked TSA PRECHECK, and I would have to be subject to the entire theater of TSA.
The Anchorage TSA crew was leaving no stone unturned this night.
A Complete Search In Progress
I was scanned and inspected. My computer bag subject to comprehensive explosive residue testing. My trousers from Pro Bass with the long narrow zippered pocket, a pocket that is no larger than to contain perhaps an ink pen was subject to a pat down. Had I had these very trousers last year and used that pocket to carry the pen that wrote in Spanish I might not have lost that pen…..After clearing security it was only a short wait to board the sky carriage for the all night run to Portland.
The carriage was a new 737-900 and actually had padding in the seats, an electrical outlet for each rider, and this night wasn’t even full.Turbulence shook our sturdy Boeing most of the way south, but I slept, and was oblivious to the screams of unseasoned terrified passengers.
It was still dark when I walked down the jet way in Portland. I like the Portland airport, it is easier to make a connection there than in Seattle, and this morning layover was just over an hour. Just enough time to find a cup of coffee.
The line had already formed at the Starbucks when I got into it, and soon I was no longer at the end of the line, but I had determined that this line was too long to wait for what Starbucks calls coffee. I mentioned this to the fellow standing behind me as I left the line and he said there was a better local coffee shop just down the terminal. We both headed that way…Coffee People looked like the real deal but the counter girl had never heard of a lungo, or the Italian language.
Coffee People Really?
A brief bit of instruction yielded a very dry Americano.
Maybe I will have better luck at Peets in the city…..