we're definitely not in Kansas anymore

It's been forever and three days, or at least since sometime before 9/11, that John of the Lumberyard went flying....anywhere. I hadn't realized that it had been that long, until I headed to the airport this afternoon to go to Atlanta for a training class. Then it became painfully evident.

First there was the trip to the kiosks that have replaced the ticket counter. I figured, how hard can this be? So I went up to the kiosk and it prompted me for a confirmation number. So, being the semi-intelligent person I am, I scanned the sheet of paper I had from the travel folks that detailed my plane/rental car information, looking for said number. There was a bunch of stuff on the paper, but nowhere did I see anything resembling a confirmation number. I saw CONF: followed by some six letter code, but that was the closest thing I could find. So, I admitted my ignorance, and waited in line to talk to the one and only Delta employee lurking around the kiosk area. I got to my turn, and explained my predicament. I knew I had a ticket dammit, because my credit card has already been billed. Somewhere there has to be a way to get me on a plane that's apparently so easy a caveman could do it. I, on the other hand, don't qualify. The guy points to the six letter code..something like QSCOGE...and says here's your confirmation number. I mentioned to him that my confirmation number has no digits, where I would have expected a number to have at least one. He wasn't amused, but he checked me in and took my bag all the same, which is all I really wanted in the first place.

Next came the security folks getting to the gate area. I waited in line and observed, because again, this is all pretty new to me. I see the thing where you have to put all your possessions in these bins and walk through the metal detector...OK, got that. As I get closer, I can see people handing some guard their boarding pass and picture ID, so yeah...got that figured out. I'm cruisin'.

I get out the boarding pass and my wallet, hand it to the guy and he marks the boarding pass, telling me to go on. Wooooo hooo! I passed. But now what?

There are several lines I can get in, and I can see some are for handicapped folks, so I avoid those, and pick one. They aren't really lines, per se, because nobody's in them. You can walk right up...and I did. I put my laptop bag with all my stuff in it in a bin, take off my shoes and put them in another bin with everything out of my pockets. I got this nailed...until I get to the guard through the metal detector.

"Boarding pass?"

"Excuse me?"

"Where's your boarding pass?"

"It's in the laptop bag going through the metal detector."

A look...like "why do I get all the slow ones?"

"No sir, you need your boarding pass. Step to the side please."

So I do, and the guy running my stuff in bins through the metal detector says "Sir, are these your possessions?"

"Yes, and I need my boarding pass for this guy over here."

"There's a laptop in this bag."

I'm thinking "no shit, Sherlock, it's a laptop bag" but I'm saying, "Yes, there is."

"Well, it can't be in there. You have to remove the laptop."

Well, damn, who knew? I guess most people do...or must, because it wasn't like there was a sign or anything, or if there was, it wasn't obvious. I know, I was looking, and studying...everything, hoping to avoid this "we got a newbie here" moment.

So now I'm hanging at the gate, waiting to leave. I still have about an hour...but I have a laptop and free internet. That wasn't here the last time I flew either.