After teaching the WordPress courses over the weekend for Pacific New Media I caught a shuttle bus to the Honolulu Inter-Island airport terminal. It was about a 20 or 30 minute trip from Lincoln Hall at the University campus since we stopped to pick up a couple of other passengers on the way.
I arrived good and early, then started by queuing for check-in. One woman in our line was slumped over her baggage trolley. I wondered if she was ill, but perhaps she was just tired — once she reached the check-in counter she seemed OK and the airline official didn’t seem too concerned.
I presented my ticket and passport for identification and was issued a boarding pass of sorts. The official pointed out that I’d need to obtain a seat number at the counter near the gate.
Next step was security. I’d just joined the line when a nearby sign about liquids and clear plastic bags and so on reminded me that I had a bottle of water and a bottle of juice in my carry-on bag. I tossed out the water and drank the juice then checked my bag for other ‘forbidden’ items I might have forgotten. Once sure I was clear I queued up again.
The line moved quickly and after a few minutes a security guard was checking my passport and making many marks on my boarding pass in green felt pen.
I moved on to sending my boots, jacket, bag and laptop through the scanner, then the guard told me I would have a body search. He beckoned over a female guard who had me stand on a mat marked with ‘footprints’ and raise my arms. She patted me down, said something I didn’t catch and then moved over to inspect my bags etc more closely.
She wiped my boots with a paper and then put the paper in a machine. Then she wiped my other gear and checked that in the machine too. After a few moments she said I could go.
The final step was then to walk down to Gate 57 and present my boarding pass and passport to receive a seat number. I asked if a window seat would be possible.
I was very surprised when the official asked if I’d be willing to help in case of an emergency — she could seat me in the emergency exit row. I asked what was involved and she mentioned being able to lift a 41 pound weight and open the exit door. I said I could do that and was given seat 17A.
Finally the boarding call came. I was staring into space at the time — I knew my row was not among the first to board — when I heard a jingling noise. On looking up I glimpsed a man in leg and arm chains shuffling through the entrance to the air bridge. He had a couple of escorts. I guess they sat at the back of the plane as I didn’t see him when I boarded. While waiting to collect my baggage at Hilo though I saw him again after everyone else had disembarked.
The plane was a Boeing 717-200. I don’t think it was just because I was seated in the exit row, but for the first time in my life I actually couldn’t reach the seat in front of me. Cattle class is all I can afford in my travels, so I’ve never understood the emergency instructions that say what to do if you can reach the seat in front of you. Every other time I’ve travelled and had seats in front of me, rather than a bulkhead or divider, the seat in front of me has been right in my face. In this 717 I could stretch out my legs, relax ad enjoy. It’s almost a shame the flight was only 45 minutes or so.
Fortunately there was no emergency, so I was not called on to open the door or usher out passengers. I wonder how the man in chains would have been able to exit? Or do they just let prisoners drown?
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