JFK v. TPA

I had an early-ish morning flight from JFK to Tampa last Thursday. Even in the morning JFK is a madhouse - there was already a line at the security checkpoint when me and Dars got there at 6:30. One of the TSA ladies was bellowing at us travelers to MOVE DOWN. There were a lot of joints in the line, and an equal number of places for the line to become disjointed. The bellower was not happy about this particular disjointing, so close to the front of the line. Thing is, the ticketing and security area is vast; the ceilings endlessly high, the acoustics endlessly bad. Her bellows, while impressively resonant to those beside her, just barely reached the people thirty feet away that she was urging to move.

Once we reached the front we encountered another friendly lady yelling at her colleague further out in the line for apparently not appropriately informing travelers of the jacket and shoe removal requirements.

When I laid my things on the belt there was a bored looking gal moving the tubs and bags along - but she disappeared after my things went through and the people behind me got reamed by yet another angry woman for not shoving their belongings into the maw of the x-ray machine.

Dars was wearing un-removable metal bangles that set off the metal detector. We waited a good several minutes before someone showed up to run the detector rod over his body. And boy did the TSA guy run that rod over his body. I got to watch the whole thing from a distance and that guy had a smile on his face the whole time, but Dars is kind of a hot piece so who can blame him for enjoying the rod-fondling?

Things were a little different on the reverse trip. In fact, I have nothing to relay except this: every single person at TPA, from the lady at the check-in counter to the gate attendants, had what appeared to be a genuine smile on their faces and in their voices. Fin.