I will attempt to not make this a political diatribe but this whole terrorist alert crap is really just assinine. Flying three days before Christmas is bad enough without the government scaring everybody, the cops searching everybody, and the airlines slowing everybody down with bag checks, ticket checks, id checks. Not one security protocol I went through made any significant difference for my level of safety, but sure made flying more of a pain in the ass than usual. And the joys of eating airline food with plastic utensils! So safe!
As expected, the plane was full of families who only fly once a year, so they had no idea what they were doing, had way too many over-sized carry-ons, and lots and lots and lots of screaming children. Lots of children. Screaming. The whole time. Screaming. Crying. Shouting. Children.
At least the movie was Pirate of the Carribean, and the five hours just flew by.
Got to the stink of JFK and waited patiently as they announced that luggage would arrive on Carousel 4 twice before my luggage started arriving on Carousel 5. Welcome to New York. Not entirely sure why I bothered getting Priority tags on my bags either, because it sure doesn't make a damn bit of difference as to when my bags finally showed up.
Papa picked me up and the Mighty Myron Infinity battled traffic across the bridge and up the 95 until we got to Stamford.
We got home just as the lasagna was ready and proceeded to feast in style.
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