O.J.

Pulling an OJ used to have an entirely different meaning when he was a professional football player. It used to mean running through the airport at top, running back speed, to catch a flight after returning your Hertz rental car. Today, pulling an O.J. means you just stabbed your wife, dropped a glove, and got off Scott-free. My O.J. was of the former.

We dropped our car off at PCA at 5a.m. with an hou and a half to catch our flight. Except that hor and a half dwindeled down to 45 minutes when the driver insisted our flight departed out of terminal 3 rather than terminal 1. Upon learning of this error, we pulled the I.J. and ran, sprinted, to the first terminal. Terminal: ending, as in terminal illness or terminal delays, or ... You get the point. The whole experience was a terminal nightmare, or anxiety dream. The wrong terminal, terminally long lines, and trouble obtaining boarding passes. Apparently you must showcyour I.D. in order to obtain your pass with Mid-west air. Using your reservation code doesn't work to obtain the boarding pass requiring intervention from airline associates. And then there's the T. S. A. One word: government. They make you wait in a long line until you get close to boarding, then they move you to another line rather than simply being a little more efficient with who they decide looks like a terrorist with profiling anyone. Sigh.

Thankfully the calming voice of a man behind us quelled the pent up anger, frustration and blame that was building between John and I. We made it to the gate just as they were boarding, only to discovervthat we were seated apart.

On to the next leg of our flight, then to Nashville.


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Location:SFO