My husband, Rich, and I are just back from a vacation to Slovakia to visit four past exchange students and the trip was, um, an adventure. Seeing the kids? Priceless. However, midway through the visit, as we settled into our beautiful guest bedroom in Ivanka, near Bratislava, the terrorism plot was announced and the travel restrictions imposed.
We checked in with CNN every day, hoping the situation would improve before it was time for us to make the transcontinental flight home via Vienna, then London Heathrow to San Francisco. We kept seeing the mobs of people stuck in Heathrow Airport on TV and imagined ourselves at the end of one of those long lines. We hoped the international James Bonds had snagged all the plotters and not left one or two wandering around to complete the deal. We spent a sleepless night before our trip, anticipating the worst. We held hands for a quick prayer before we left, on accounta our math figured the original plot was probably scheduled for the days we were set to travel. We were lucky enough to be on British Airways and not one of the targeted American airlines, but still we saw long lists of cancelled and delayed flights on TV. It looked like we were in for the traveling nightmare from hell.
Knowing that we were facing some stringent travel restrictions, we were carrying few items with us. For Rich, that included a small medical kit with his insulin, a syringe for injections and a plastic bag of medications. We had to get up at 4:15 a.m. in a hotel at the Vienna airport so we could be in line by the time the British Airways counter opened at 5 a.m. We had flown to Europe with four carry-on pieces, but we repacked and checked almost everything straight through back to San Francisco. I carried a purse and Rich had a little plastic bag of medicine.
There were no problems whatsoever in Vienna, but London's Heathrow airport was an entirely different story! I guess Rich -- with his graying hair, dressed in a blue blazer and limping noticeably because of a strained muscle in his hip -- looked like a likely terrorism suspect, because he seemed to be a magnet for the airport security personnel. We had only an hour and 40 minutes to get from Terminal 4 to Terminal 1 for our departure, and that included a 15-minute bus ride across the airport. On arriving at Terminal 1, Rich got through the first line of security without a problem, but with the clock ticking down toward the flight time, a young -- and very apologetic -- security guard discovered that Rich was carrying the insulin and syringe. Rich was pulled out of the line and patted down while the security guard's supervisor telephoned her supervisors to get clearance for Rich to proceed.
The guard told Rich that he should be carrying a doctor's perscription for the insulin, but Rich pointed out that we were in Slovakia when the whole terrorist plot was disclosed. He also noted that the signs advising of carry-on restrictions specifically said that diabetic kits were OK. After about a 10-minute delay, Rich was allowed to proceed to the gate, where the plane was beginning the boarding process. We breathed a sigh of relief, but it wasn't over.
After another passport check and turning over our boarding passes, we went though the doors to board the plane, but inside was another impromptu check point. And, yes, Rich was selected again for additional scrutiny. He was once again patted down, asked to remove his shoes and the bag and medical kit he was carrying was searched thoroughly. A small tweezers was confiscated, and then the insulin and syringe was discovered. The security guard wanted to confiscate the insulin, but Rich argued that he probably would require a shot during the 10-hour flight. Then the security guard said he would have to confiscate the syringe, but Rich argued that without the needle, the insulin would be useless.
Rich was asked to go back out into the boarding area and wait for the floor security manager to come over. The security manager was extremely nice, but repeated that Rich should have gotten a doctor's prescription before attempting to board. Rich repeated that he was in Slovakia when the whole terror plot thing went down. The security manager thanked Rich for his patience but said he had to call the terminal security manager for his approval. That gentleman came up about 10 minutes later, asked the same questions, got the same answers and finally allowed Rich to board. However, the floor security manager escorted us down to the plane and told the pilot and chief flight attendant what Rich was carrying. The attendant then escorted Rich back to row 47 to know exactly where he was seated.
Luckily, our flight had been delayed for a short time while British Airways was waiting for U.S. officials to approve the flight to San Francisco. We were the last passengers to board. The 10-hour flight was long and tiring, but the airline food served was actually pretty good and our luggage made it through.
Whew!!!
Whew is right. Glad you made it safely. I hope all of these precautions are actually effective, not just setup to appear "determined and resolute".