Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Right this way, Mr. Bastian

Get to the airport two hours before your flight? That rule doesn't apply to me. That's when my alarm goes off in the morning, and I slowly lean up in bed, stretch out my arms and prepare for a leisurely journey.

I stroll into the airport, roller packed to traveler's perfection, and walk up to the counter and hear, "How are you today, Mr. Bastian? And where will you be flying today?"

"Toronto. Checking one."

I watch as they put the bright orange priority sticker on my suitcase. That ensures that it will arrive at baggage claim well before yours -- if yours even makes it, that is.

Most people get frustrated over the next step: security. Not me. Piece of cake. I see your faces. Hundreds of you. Tired. Weary. Staring at me as I walk by, skipping the massive line that winds back and forth between the ropes, and then winds some more, stretching out into the main hall.

I have my own line. Just for me.

After I cut in front of you, and have my passport and boarding pass examined, I tell the security guard to have a great day. You'll get to meet him, too. But I'll be long gone by then, sipping a coffee and reading a newspaper.

Once I reach the X-ray machine, I have my routine down to a science. Right foot to left heel. Step back. Shoe off. Left foot to right heel. Step back. Shoe off. In one swift motion, I slide off my belt with my left hand and retrieve my shoes with my right. In the next move, I grab two plastic bins and place them one in front of the other on the metal table.

Bin one: Shoes, belt, cell phone.

Bin two: Laptop.

Only amateurs still have loose change in their pockets or think they need to remove their watch. And I always smile a little when someone's belt sets off the metal detector. Sorry, buddy. Extra screening for you. Lesson learned.

Once I'm through -- and it doesn't take long -- I head to the gate. I rarely need to take a seat if I have timed things right. When it's time to board, I go first. Women. Children. Old ladies in wheelchairs. Get in line. You all have to wait for me.

And don't even think about walking on that little blue carpet. You're not allowed. That's for me, too. Stick to the dirty airport carpet, please.

Who am I? I am the elite.

Maybe you'll get there someday.

12 comments:

  1. More like Mr. BASTARD, amirite?

    No, not really.

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  2. Influenced by Up in the Air much?

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  3. You're a rookie Jordan...can get on the plane quicker with no shoes at all.

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  4. haha. True, I should go barefoot.

    And Up in the Air was a great flick. Hit WAY TOO close to home.

    ~JB

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  5. Wow, yeah, you are pretty special, getting to save those precious 30 minutes or so at the airport. Of course, like most people, I spend maybe 12 hours a year crammed in a pressurized, claustrophobic tube getting butt-rot and making small talk 30,000 feet above the earth, while you spend hundreds of hours doing the same, so I guess it evens out. The 30 minutes you save per trip sound nice, but I wouldn't trade my life for yours or that of any "frequent flier" any day. Enjoy that airline food.

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  6. Haha. Love it. Good stuff, Anonymous. Crackin gme up. It sure does even out. And keep in mind that posts like these are totally tongue-in-cheek. The miles and hotel points sure do come in handy for free vacations, though.

    ~JB

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  7. wow, you are something special you fucking hack beat writer

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  8. hey anon -2:35, save comments like that for the Drunks. If you have such a problem with this "hack beat writer" then why are you reading his blog?

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  9. What's the coolest free vacation you've taken?

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  10. if you ever have too many of those free points i can think of someone who'd love a free vacation!

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