Tsk, Tsk TSA

A frustrated rant from Dean Swift, the not so swift traveler

So late yesterday afternoon, I was hanging out at LaGuardia with a few thousand of my closest friends... I rushed through a fantastic lunch at Haru to catch a cab and get to LGA one hour before my flight home. Upon arrival at the terminal I dutifully over-tipped the cabbie and schlepped my own bag out of the trunk. Since the driver didn't bother getting out of the car to assist me with my bags, I took the low road and walked into the terminal without closing the trunk. He shouted something in has native tongue that I assumed was not complimentary and I smiled a snarky grin as I slipped through he sliding glass doors. Inside the Delta/Northwest terminal there was an enormous crowd, not moving, mumbling and looking like someone had pissed in their collective Wheaties. After adding considerable wear to my shoes, I found the end of the line and took my place. Within 30 minutes the line had snaked back and forth across the terminal, out the door and onto the sidewalk. The temperature began to rise along with the tempers of the would-be travelers as TSA agents scurried about. Soon, the buzzing TSA agents were joined by cops in tactical gear and cops with dogs. When we asked the TSA agents about the situation, we were told that there was a "technical security issue." That would explain the German Shepherds, but not the Labrador Retrievers (Germans are known for their technological expertise). Soon thereafter we were informed that the terminal was to be evacuated and a mad rush to the door ensued. It was a bit frightening and I perhaps scared my wife out of her wits when I said "...sweetie, I have to go now, they are evacuating the terminal." As I stood, holding a door open for the rush of evacuees, I got ticked by the too common sight of people trying to run through revolving doors while pulling their carry-on bags. I could just imagine the thought process... "I might get stuck in here and die from the blast, but at least I'll have my underwear and shaving kit!" Outside the terminal, the sky buzzed with news helicopters and TV remote units were setting up shop. No officials came out to explain the situation so the crowd started to move back to the doors and some people even re-entered the building, only to be shooed out time and again. Knowing that I had a fairly tight connection in Atlanta (in the South, we say that whether you are going to heaven or hell, you'll still have to connect through Atlanta), I called the Skymiles number at Delta and asked the operator to transfer me to an alternate airline and get me at least part of the way home. I was informed that in order to do this, I needed to go into the terminal and see a Delta Ticket Agent. Hmmm...... I guess in the operators native language, the word evacuate must have some alternate meaning. I tried my best to explain that the ticket agent was sitting on the curb enjoying a Winston, but to no avail. Instead, I just called my travel agent and bought a one way ticket to ATL on American Airlines. Problem solved! or so I thought. The American flight ended up being delayed for a few hours and I of course was a few minutes late for the last connection home. They didn't hold the plane. I slept at the Airport Sheraton and the next day I finally got on a big bird to return home. Twenty hours after rushing through my lunch, I found myself back in my humid homeland. Oh... and the "technical security issue" that caused this delay turned out to be some guy who walked away from the screening area after his shoes had been swabbed for explosives. As it turned out, he just didn't understand the agent when she said for him to wait for the results of the scan. The scan turned up negative and the officials never found the guy. Oh well. At least I made it home.