Biker Look

I enjoy air travel and am a relaxed traveler. Getting to the airport, relaxing over a pre-flight cocktail, reading a book; all this is good stuff. This time, however, there were a few factors that would flavour the experience.

Deciding to take along a 100 pound black labrador complicates flight plans a little. Fortunately, all the negotiations were undertaken by my too kind partner, resulting in me simply supplying my ear as a receiver of the complicated tale of transporting a horse sized canine to the tropics.

The other travel complication was the result of some moron who decided to ignite his explosive laden underpants whilst enroute from Amsterdam to Detroit. The response? Let's everyone panic and overreact to show how flippin' serious we are about fighting the "War on Terror". Continental Airlines determined that the maximum carry on bag was the size of an 8 1/2 by 11 inch envelope. No connection there with the TAS website which was the online resource for just what one could carry on international flights. TAS indicated nothing more than the strict enforcement of existing carry on rules. No more putting wheels on your steamer trunk and breaking ankles as you drag your bloated cargo down the anorexic airplane aisle.

But hey, we're flying Continental and are strong adherents to rules, so a quickish repack puts everything in order. I'm bringing what fits in my pockets and a couple novels (even though warned by the friendly check-in staff that one paperback was the max). Quickly through the grumpy U.S. customs agent and then into the cattle pen for processing. What's this? Those folks who checked in on Delta are carrying backpacks that Edmund Hilary's Sherpas would have found extreme. It appears we have a slight glitch in communications here in Calgary International Airport's efforts to fight the War on Terror.

Excellent! The airport authorities have enlisted the aid of our trusty RCMP to assist in the frisking down of suspected terrorists flying out of Calgary. Lucky me! A youngish, smiling young officer is available to examine my crotch. There's a word that has been much underused until the "crotch bomber" invaded our airspace. I suppose "gonad bomber" or "testicle bomber" wouldn't have the same cachet or respectability that "crotch bomber" has supplied. But I digress. Before fondling me (and I suspect this is a new officer testing his newly-acquired counter-terrorism patter) I am drawn to make serious eye contact with my resolute examiner. "Sir, a question I must ask." Huh? Putting on his most professional and serious connecting with the terrorist demeanor. "Any drugs or alcohol"?

Whaaaaa??? The mind boggles. I have no carry on luggage. You've just fondled my testes. What in God's name are you thinking? A number of smart-ass answers spring to mind but I cannot suppress my chortling, which turns out to be the correct response. Remembering the last

RCMP airport story from Vancouver, responses like "Gee officer, you nailed me. Indeed I did swallow 12 condoms full of cocaine and am transporting them on my regular mule route, Calgary to Houston", or "Thanks for asking. You could obviously tell I was feeling a little guilty about the crystal meth I've hidden in an internal cavity. Sorry!", are not going to help.

Regardless, the three hour pre-boarding time arrival at the airport has worked for us. We now have two hours to imbibe at the Rocky Mountain Lounge before boarding. Well, make that three hours including the flight delay and de-icing fun times.

Up, up and away. An uneventful flight, a tardy shuttle to the airport Holiday Inn where the extremely nice desk ladies supply us with tooth brushes and tooth paste. One asks if I'd also like a razor. Before I can reply her colleague informs her, "no, he's got that biker look thing goin'. It's a real good look for him".

What a wonderful woman. My day is complete. I fall asleep with a smile on my face and sleep like a baby.