Tripping to Halifax

A few years ago my wife and I had a chance to fly out to Halifax for the weekend without the kids. Just a short hop out to the coast to visit with my wife’s sister and her husband. We thought we would move with the times and bought our tickets over the internet and paid for them in the same fashion. We received an email telling us our electronic tickets would await our arrival in Ottawa. Then I sent our hosts an email relaying the flight information.

On our drive to Ottawa, I kept wondering, how real were those electronic tickets anyway? I have been exposed to computers long enough to know that a) computers do screw up and b) the front line operators usually don’t believe that a computer can screw up. I had visions of an Air Canada attendant telling me that they had a seat for a Platrick Scott but nothing for a Patrick Scott.

Fortunately, we didn’t have to confront these problems, for when we arrived in Ottawa, our electronic tickets were there. However, they were also tantalizingly out of reach, until we started in a series of new procedures before boarding the flight. First, we had to show picture identification that matched the name on the tickets. That done, we were asked if we packed the suitcase ourselves and did we know what was in it. I suppose that questions of this nature could get a little uncomfortable, seeing how we were a married couple getting away from our kids for the weekend. We just smiled and nodded. We were asked if we left the luggage unattended anywhere. I said, “In our trunk”. Humour does not work well these days. We had to “affix” (couldn’t she have said “put”?) a label on our luggage. I thought about using a funny name, but the idea of spending my weekend in a small jail cell with rough looking characters instead of my wife and the contents of our suitcase in Halifax, eliminated that idea and I quickly wrote my name and address on the label. We then proceeded (couldn’t have I just said, “went”?) to the metal detector, showed our picture ID again then I had to turn the digital camera on and off, I had to turn the cell phone on and off, then had to turn my patience on and off. Finally, I emptied my pockets and as I stepped through the detector, the alarm went off. Then I really emptied my pants pockets, my sport coat pockets and even my outer coat pockets and still the alarm went off. They finally checked me out with a handheld unit and allowed me to go on. It was only when I was putting everything away that I realized I still had my wrist watch on. The scary part was all those security people staring at me and waiting for me to do something stupid (quiet out there) didn’t notice my watch either.

We went to the ticket counter and as we stood in line for our seating assignments, we had to show our picture ID again. Then, as we walked the 6 feet to the desk to get our boarding passes, we had to show our picture ID yet again. Now, I don’t know if they had mistaken my wife and I for David Copperfield and an associate, but for the life of me I don’t know how they thought we could turn into someone else in the space of six feet. But we dutifully showed them our ID and boarded the plane.

The flight was uneventful except for the guy right behind us who saw some vapour from the air conditioning unit start pouring out of the ventilation slots. There is something unnerving about racing down a runway at a couple of hundred miles an hour with a guy right behind you mumbling softly that the plane was on fire and that we are all going to die and blow up. Which, I guess, is preferable to blowing up first and then dying. He settled down quickly though, either that or he passed out from fear.

Our stay in Halifax was wonderful. We had some delectable meals, my wife got her fill of fresh seafood and I got my fill of smelling the saltwater air wafting in over the shoreline. The flight back was like all flights back. They seem a little longer than when you were leaving. Albeit, we did have two 18 months old twins with runny nose beside us, but compared to the death-wish guy, they were a bed of roses. The other thing my wife and I vowed to do when we got back was to have ID pictures that don’t make us look like inmates from one of our area penitentiaries. Heard that joke once too many times.