I’ve hate spring since I moved to Minnesota in 1995. She’s a fickle season the teases more than she rewards. Last weekend it was 70 degrees in the Twin Cities. This weekend it’s 40 and am told we can expect a significant snowfall Sunday night and Monday.
I hate snow in May. I’d sacrifice a virgin to avoid snow in May. Good thing they’re hard to find, I’d hate to go to jail for human sacrifice. But, pretty sure if the trial were to be held up here in Minnesota, I’d get off. Especially if it works.
I spent the week in Los Angeles commencing with my work mates and doing what I do, ‘know what I’m say’n. Got picked up at the airport by the family on Friday afternoon. They were late. I was late getting in. I was flying out of Palm Springs for several reasons including direct flights and easy access. I work in Inland Empire so it’s an easy strike from the Palm Springs International Airport. And, since it’s a pretty small airport, as airports go, I can get in and out of it really fast. Problem is, and I forget this every time, for all the time I save flying into Palm Springs I lose it coming out. The universe has a way of balancing itself. At Palm Springs there are two issues, that are due to the same issue. Getting through TSA and barding planes according to priority.
Priority which I enjoy since I live on planes these days.
The TSA problem is long lines and slow screening. The reason, and this is my theory, that screening take so long at Palm Springs is a usually high number of folks going through security (Like 50%?) have at least one bionic joint. Hips, shoulders, knees, you name it. And for some reason the men and women at the TSA find this unusual? Given the demographic. Then again, maybe it’s just flights to Minnesota. Or maybe it’s the flights to Minnesota during the annual northern migration of the unofficial state bird, the Grey Headed Snow Bird. As a soon-to-be member of that flock I get it. And given that years of arthritis have wreaked havoc on my joints Mrs S assures me that I have some joint replacements coming. I already hate flying, can’t wait for the day when my titanium parts are lighting up the metal detector.
Regarding the Avianious Winterious migration, I figured that late April would be safe. I figured that most of the migrants have returned to the Northern Climes by late April. That’s when the food supply improves and grandkids star being available for spoiling. We see early migrants in Mid-March most years and by May 1st the bulk have returned. Of course, given that we’re getting a foot of snow next week the migration signals are probably messed up.
The other problem at Palm Springs- pre-boarding. Delta, my preferred carrier, boards flights based on priority. Since I fly a bajillion miles a year with them I have priority, aka Zone 1. I also have a Delta America Express which gets me higher priority as in 1.1 or 1 AA. This isn’t a really a thing. This means I can board before anyone in a lowered number zone, but after “Those requiring special assistance”, First Class, Business Class, Comfort Class, Steerage Plus and some secret class that I can’t figure out but seems to include every millennial I’ve ever seen at a gate. Honestly by the time they load the priority folks, there’s rarely anyone left in the waiting area.
In Palm Springs, again during migration season, the problem is when they call “assistance” literally the entire waiting area get up, and lines up to board the plane. I scratch my head because for most of these folks their only disability seems to be grey hair. It’s a reminder that middle age is like middle class, you are always inbetween perks. You can’t use your own or rented toddlers for boarding priority and you’re too young to claim dementia to the gate attendant despite having a copy of the Economist tucked under your arm.
Travel is never boring and from “You thought you’d hear everything” department. We got away from gate right ton time. We were 60 minutes late taking off. Why? “The plane weighs too much with all the passengers and gear. We’ll need to sit out here on the runway for a bit, burn off a couple hundred pounds of fuel and wait for the perfect wind conditions. The thought of an overweight plane trying to take off put me in a ‘take your time” state of mind and read my book.
And, tried not to think about how bad I had to go to the bathroom.
Filed under: Life