There and back again

Most of my trips are taken by car. I would fly more had I the money, or perhaps, were I less cheap. A few trips we've taken have required travel by air, and I would rate our experiences as so-so. A three-hour or so domestic flight can be tolerable because you know that you are flying more than a thousand miles in that time, leaving you with plenty of time to spend at your destination. Of course, you can't exactly drive to Ireland.

Flying post 9/11 requires some inconveniences -- removing shoes, stashing liquid items in small, clear containers that are then placed in clear, plastic bags for inspection. Because I fly so little, I have managed to make myself an object for scrutiny. Like the time years ago that I believed something I'd read on the Internet and didn't take my shoes off. Or the first time I flew with a laptop and didn't know you had to take it out of your laptop case. Those instances caused me to be pulled from the line and tested for explosives residue.

But in recent years, I seem to trigger regular searches. I've pretty much learned the ropes, so I expect to be able to pass through the checkpoints with little fanfare. Hah. I've been patted down and had my ankles checked. The latter makes a bit of sense because I have metal in my right ankle, put there to hold it all together after a motorcycle accident. The guy checking me out insisted, however, that the presence of the metal had nothing to do with it.

Welcome sign at JFK International

I wondered whether I would be suspicious on this trip, and sure enough, as we passed through the checkpoint, I was pulled over for a pat down of my left side while Sharon went through without so much as a how do you do. Mind, I've nothing on my left side that differs from anyone else's left side -- skin, bones, lungs, the usual sort of body parts. What causes this, and how many more searches will I endure on the trip? None, actually.

At Shannon Airport, a regional airport on a par with Abilene or Lubbock, we learn we really don't have to take our shoes off, and when I forget to remove my hat, the security guard asks to look at it and then spends his time examining the Texas Tech logo and telling me about his own hat collection. At Heathrow I speed through the checkpoint with not a pause and still with my shoes on.

Now that's a big apple. Sign says it's in honor of Helsinki.

But the big contrast in travel come with the planes. We fly in an American 737 to New York, a cramped, little plane filled almost to capacity. I think a seat or two might have been vacant but not next to us. Fortunately I have an aisle seat so I can hang out a bit to give Sharon some room. But I'm amazed at how little room we have. I thought that because we'd lost so much weight since the last time we flew, life on board would be more comfortable. If you are the size of the average 10 year old, you might stand a chance.

From New York we will fly on an American 757, which though capable of a trans-Atlantic flight, seems to be larger only as to length. Being on that plane for the six or so hour flight was, to put it charitably, just short of miserable. It came up short of miserable because they at least fed us, something that will cost you extra aboard a domestic flight.

We were served a light supper and a sort of breakfast, which was satisfactory because we were hungry, but we never did figure out what the red sauce on the chicken was. It had little flavor but wasn't disgusting. Not exactly high praise for a meal. We stash away packaged items in our backpacks for future consumption, figuring our dining schedule will be off, and we might need fortification. We were right.

On the way back we flew first on an Aer Lingus Airbus that was every bit as cramped as the American flights. This will be a short hop from Shannon Airport to Heathrow, one of those flights that climbs to cruising altitude and then immediately begins its descent. On board this flight, absolutely everything costs you. No water, tea, soda, coffee unless you cough up 2 euros. It's a short flight, and we're fortified, so that's not a problem. But the big guy next to me is. I sit folded up in my seat and am still bumping up against him, trying my best not to squeeze Sharon out. A landing in Heathrow cannot come too soon.

Finally, we attain nirvana. Our flight to Dallas will be on a British Airways 747, with seats that are more than accommodating. They are wide, have these drop-down parts of the headrest that, when augmented by the small pillow we've been given, make it fairly easy to become comfortable enough to grab some shut-eye.

Small viewing screens built in to the seat in front make it easy to control the in-flight entertainment, and the selection is generous. On the flight over, we were shown a movie and some television shows, which we did not pic, and the screens were awkwardly mounted, causing you to either strain your eyes or strain your neck to view the picture. On the BA flight we had multiple audio and visual options to choose from, pretty handy for a nine-hour flight.

The BA attendants served food and drinks -- as in alcoholic drinks ranging from wine and beer to those cute little bottles that people used to collect and stash away in their carry-on baggage or purses. (We did not partake, and I managed to get a sniff from the attendant when I asked for tea.) Water and juice were served several times to keep us hydrated, and you were free to go back to the galley and snag a soft drink and a snack from the "tuck box." If I have to spend more than a working day on a plane, this is the way to do it.

One last thing in this now overlong post. Something about our ticketing did not allow for early check-in. In Dallas, we were able to use the kiosk at the airport to obtain our boarding passes but not our bag tags. This seemed to flummox the AA personnel, and it took what seemed like an unreasonable amount of time. Meanwhile, at Shannon, the gate agent took our passports and had our boarding passes printed and luggage tagged and on the conveyor in just a couple of minutes.

I asked him if he'd be willing to come to Dallas and teach the AA personnel how to be as efficient. "No," he said with a laugh. "It's an art."