We arrive at the United Airlines counter at Southern California's Ontario International Airport three hours before the scheduled 10:56 a.m. departure time to check our bags. There are six other people in line, but there is no one behind the counter. The instructions on the reservations are very clear: arrive at the airport at least three hours before the start of an international flight. We are there, but no one from the airline is. We wait. And we wait. After 45 minutes, I search for someone to find out why there is no one at the counter. A TSA agent says they have nothing to do with the airlines. An airport security guard says they have nothing to do with the airlines. A janitor says the airlines don’t send anyone to their counters until about an hour before the flight time. Never underestimate the knowledge of the janitor. We now have another hour and a quarter to wait for an agent to show up at the counter. The line gets longer and longer and more and more restless. I pass along my message from the janitor, and the line calms down—a bit.
A big agent, possibly from Samoa, finally arrives. As he passes the line he says, “You could have checked in with the kiosks.”
“But we have bags to check,” several people reply.
“The kiosks can print baggage tags,” he retorts.
“And where would we put the bags?”
“Leave them at the counter, and we would get them.”
Really? Just leave the bags at the counter?
Just then the general announcement comes over the loudspeakers, “Do not leave bags or parcels unattended. Report any unattended bags or parcels to security. Unattended items are subject to confiscation.”
The agent goes behind the counter, taking several minutes to start the computers and get set up before motioning to the people first in line. Once he gets going, he is quite efficient, checking reservations, issuing boarding passes, and tagging and moving bags to the conveyor belt behind him.
He is surprised that Sandra and I are checking our bags since they are apparently small enough to go as carry-on luggage. I explain, “We don’t want to drag the bags through the airports and then try swinging them up into an overhead bin. Besides, Sandra can’t reach the overhead bins. Please just check them through to London.”
He tags the bags somewhat reluctantly, gives us the claim stubs, and we head toward the security checkpoint.
TSA is the usual scene of agents talking with each other, largely ignoring the passengers. One occasionally yells out, “Put everything in the bins. Computers out of their cases. No liquids over three ounces. Wait for an agent to wave you into the scanner.” Happily, there is one gentle agent helping people get bins and separate their items so bins are not overloaded. Computers, of course, have to be in their own bins.
“Do I need to take off my shoes?” I ask.
“Are you over 75?”
“In 40 days.”
“Shoes and belt in a bin, then.” Perhaps I should have lied, but I don’t want to risk raising the ire of the TSA if they check my ID and then decide I must be hiding something and give me a strip search. Sandra, being over 75, sails right through security while I struggle to untie my shoes, remove my belt, and find yet another bin.
Holding my pants up with one hand, I wait for an agent to wave me into the full body scanner. As I step in and raise both hands over my head, I hope my pants stay up. They do, as long as I keep my feet far apart.
I find my bins and ponder the necessity of men removing their belts. Most men need belts to keep their pants in place, while many women’s belts are more accessories. Removing my belt seems like a hazing ritual: something embarrassing required to join the group—in this case, those going to a plane. I’ve never seen them ask someone to remove their suspenders, which often have as much metal in their clips as a belt has in its buckle. Maybe I should wear suspenders the next time.
When I get to my bins, which have somehow gotten separated from each other even though they started out together, there is considerable peer pressure to just grab my stuff and get going. As I collect my things, I recall a presentation by a TSA official who showed us large bags of things people had left at only one security checkpoint in the last three months: over 60 cell phones, car and house keys, a few laptops, and even a few pairs of shoes. He told us that if we were travelling and lost something, contact the TSA and they will review the video from the time you were at the checkpoint; if they have your item, they will hold it for you to pick up at the end of your trip.
My first task is finding my belt and putting it on so I can use both hands. Then I put the computer back into its case, slip into my shoes, hobble away to a bench where I finish putting my belongings together. (Why was my watch in a different bin than I put it in?) I tie my shoes, and leave to find my wife who passed inspection without a hitch and we jointly search for the gate.
