Other alumni of Calvin's high school class were flying in for Bob's funeral from Texas and DC. We'd agreed earlier to stay at the same hotel so we could also visit during our time there. We met the next morning for breakfast. We each had airline horror stories to share thanks to the system of storms that whipped through the southern states the previous day.
When we went to leave for the funeral, the battery on our rental car was dead. We ended up calling a taxi to get us to the church for the services.
Bob's widow had told me during a phone call the color scheme of the funeral was black and ivory, that friends and family were to wear either black or ivory. The color scheme also pertained to the flowers. Only black and cream flowers were allowed around the casket. Flowers of different colors were set to the side of the sanctuary. I confess to ignorance in this area, not knowing if this was a regional or racial preference.
As we sat, waiting for the service to begin, Calvin's hearing aide broke. Thus, he couldn't hear the sermon or any remarks made to honor his best friend.
That night in our hotel room as he tugged off his t-shirt, one of the ear pieces to his glasses broke off. There was no way we could repair them. "What else can possible go wrong?" he grumbled on his way into the bathroom. A few minutes later, the commode overflowed. Yes, folks, the trip had gone to pot.
The following day, when we went to check in at the airport to fly home, the lady at the desk said we still owed for our tickets. Thank goodness I'd printed ticket confirmation when I booked online. She pressed several keys and fiddled and fumed until she found her sought for information.
Unfortunately when she entered our information, she entered us as buying a one-way ticket minutes prior to boarding which sent up red flags to homeland security. They were waiting on us once we passed through normal security screening. I suppose the fact that I was leading Calvin around since he couldn't see well without his glasses only added to our plight.
|No, this is not me!!|
Security guards seperated us and began questioning. Now remember, Calvin's hearing aide was broken, so he could not hear what was being asked. And with his glasses broken, he couldn't even see the man's mouth move to know the man was speaking. At one point I heard the security guard scream, "What's wrong? Can't you speak English?" Calvin has a Masters in English and can speak it quite well, thank you very much.
Seeing that he needed help, I said to the guard questioning me, "Excuse me, I'll be right back." I left him to hurry over to the guard questioning Calvin to explain that without his hearing aide and glasses, he really was at a disadvantage. The rude guard looked at me as if I were insane.
Meanwhile, the guard I'd just walked away from must have thought I was trying to escape and he called for backup. Security guards, their hands on their sidearms, came running toward me as I tried to explain to Calvin's guard why he couldn't answer his questions. We were both slammed up against the wall and frisked. At the time, I was 60 and Calvin 76, neither of us had ever been frisked before. Suddenly, fear rushed in! OMG, we're grandparents for heaven's sakes...law-abiding senior citizens. This IS America, isn't it?
Two security guards grabbed me and hauled me to the other side of the area. Calvin yelled, "Get your filthy hands off my wife." Probably not the wisest thing to say at this point, but one must understand my husband is very protective. He was once more slammed up against the wall and roughed up. I'm crying.
They tore the linings out of my new shoes, searched my handbag and, of course, raised their eyebrows when they found Calvin's insulin and needles. They threw away my lipstick--we all know how dangerous a tube of lipstick can be. By now I had images of being locked away--forever. We were shoved around, yelled at and repeatedly searched. Then, that suddenly, they said we were free to go and they walked away from us.
Calvin and I embraced as he kept saying, "My God, my God, I can't wait to see the hills of home." Over the intercom came our names. The airlines was holding the flight for us and this was our last call. We ran to our gate, fearful we'd miss our flight. Thankfully we made it. So, tell me, what's your travel horror story?