Comfortable Seat
Jenya and I enjoyed a couple days off exploring France together before heading home. However, our flight back was cancelled due to a strike. This is a common thing in France. Many long and expensive international calls later I had a ticket for the following day.
Planes were coming and going in and out of Charles de Gaulle, but there was almost zero staff to assist in the airport. Jenya and I arrived 5 hours early, and due to long confusing lines and general chaos we only made it to our gate in time for everybody to just go ahead and board in no particular order. This lack of organization led to delays.
Our replacement flight path had us going through JFK. Upon landing we ony had two hours to obtain our luggage, go through customs, re-check our bags and run to the next gate for the domestic leg. Fair enough, except (a) about three other flights were landing around the same time with all passengers going through the same process, and (b) I was travelling with a keyboard flight case which predictably will be the last thing to appear at oversized baggage.
Panic slowly set in as we waited and waited for my keyboard. I tried not to be a whiny twerp when asking one random airport employee when and where the large baggage would eventually appear. The giant case finally showed up, but we had only 30 minutes before our next flight took off.
Miraculously the aforementioned employee appeared again and saw me struggling with my belongings while trying to find the end of the line of many hundreds of people waiting to go through customs. Without a word he waved Jenya and I over and then led us to the front of the crowd and let us cut ahead of everybody. And nobody complained about our special treatment. Wow.
We officially reentered the U.S. and then had to wait in a short line to recheck our bags. The person behind the counter wasn't convinced we would make our flight and was reluctant to check anything in, but after minor pleading they grudgingly tagged our stuff and we rushed to the security line.
The thing about New Yorkers is that if you're not a wimp or an asshole they're actually willing to be helpful. And so our fellow travellers let us cut in line yet again to ensure quick passage through. The same cannot be said about TSA agents who, as per their job requirements, squelch any natural impulse to be useful, efficient, or even remotely sympathetic.
This became clear as I pulled out my boarding pass and passport for the agant who simply ignored me and walked away. He went over to another agent and they exchanged what seemed like, from a distance, pointless small talk during a shift change. This other agent was reluctant to get to work, but after a minute she arrived at her station. Meanwhile Jenya was standing by and sending me silent good vibes to make sure I wouldn't explode with rage.
I presented my paperwork to this new agent as she sat in her chair, but then she held up her finger as if to say, "hold on." She stood up, and studied the chair for a while looking for the lever that adjusts the seat's height. She discovered said lever, raised it up a touch, and sat back down again.
I calmly took a breath and waved my papers towards her. And once more she raised her finger. She stood again, adjusted the seat for about 30 seconds, then sat down, wiggling her butt to convince herself that this, in fact, was the most comfortable form the chair could possibly take. My blood boiled, but I said nothing as she finally scanned our passes and ID's and let us through.
After our bags got zapped I got selected for random advanced screening. For a few minutes they took a closer look at my sneakers.
Finally free from the TSA's clutches Jenya and I speed walked to our gate. We just barely made it, though I stank of anxiety/anger sweat
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