Flying ... Not as Romantic as Sinatra Made it Out to Be

"Airports ain't what they used to be."

For a lack of better things to do, I found myself striking up a conversation with the TSA security screener who had dutifully informed be that my laptop was not supposed to go through the x-ray. As he explained, "Laptops have three of the four components found in explosives, so you have to declare it before hand."

How things have changed.

As he began to swab my laptop for fear that I may blow up my connecting flight to San Francisco, he asked why I was traveling after some bland banter pertaining to paperwork.

"I'm studying the sustainability agenda of the International Olympic Committee by conducting case studies at the Olympic Park in Sydney and later at the new Olympic park in Beijing."

"Sounds important," he mumbled. "You know, I don't really like writing, but I just had to write three essays for a new job that I'm trying to get here at the airport."

"So what's the new job?"

"Oh, well they are starting a program where people are judged on a scale of 1 to 5 by their facial expressions and body posture on how likely they are to be suspicious characters, and based on that ranking, we then take them aside and ask them some questions."

Man, it has been a long time since I have flown.

...

The ride from PDX was fairly smooth. I was mostly engulfed in paperwork, but I managed to look up in time to see a beautiful Pacific sunset. Framed in my tiny window along with the half moon and Venus, I couldn't help but think that it was a good thing I wouldn't be able to see the endless ocean during my endless flight.

As always, San Francisco was a trip from the very start. From the first signs of the city lights blazing through the cloud layer below, to the bike cops (yes, bike cops) patrolling the airport, I managed to find my way through it all to the International Terminal.

Located far away from the *cough* "normal" flyers, the International Terminal comes complete with Gucci, fine silver in display cases, and of course, one more security line.

After being herded onto the large airplane for my great marathon flight of 2007 to Sydney, we were informed that while we were going to make good time (and by good time they mean 13 and a half hours instead of 14 and a half), we still had to sit on the runway and wait to leave because Sydney has a noise ordinance which indicated that planes cannot land before 6:00 AM.

Oh well. What's another hour on the runway between friends?

While the flight mostly consisted of bad movies, some brief stints of sleep, and the occasional small talk with the neighbors of row 49, the best part by far was watching the well oiled machine I like to call "Flight Attendants Assemble!" Better characters than anyone on the flight, my favorite had to be the ever-smiling husky version of Brian Setzer with a touch of Biff from Back to the Future, whose bronze sheen was second to none, and whose attitude never dipped under jovial. I just got a kick out of the FAA because they were a predominately male outfit, were proud of it, and they worked it, sister!

After having all of my underwear dumped out because the x-ray specifically for plant matter detected something in my backpack (have you ever had to declare granola bars before?), I was off to get lost on the Subway. I went to about five different stations before I finally got to mine, but the exodus was well worth it. Newtown is, for lack of a better word, a funky little neighborhood with lots of restaurants, cafes, and is right in between the Olympic Park and Downtown.

Hopefully I'll get out of the common room today, where horrid Kylie Minogue dance music is playing on the Australian version of mtv, so that I can get some pictures to post tonight. But for now I'm hanging in tight ...