Christmas Airport SNAFU: Lost and Found

As many of you know, I try to keep things interesting. And, yesterday when I flew into Dulles International airport was no exception. Let's just say me and Murphy's law seem to be intimately acquainted.

After getting off the plane with my brother and greeting all the family at the baggage claim, I put my carry on down beside carousel 14 so I could pick up our luggage. The luggage seemed to take forever to come out, but I grabbed both of our duffle bags and off we went. My brother had his carry on, and I had the big bags. My mother and sister were just giddy that we had arrived safely. Well, as you may have guessed, my carry on was left next to the baggage carousel. Of course I didn't discover this until a little before midnight, as I was going to charge my cell phone. I looked for my carry on (in which I carried my charger) and then realized I didn't have it. 

My first impulse was to check the surburban that we drove home in. I combed it twice to no avail. Then, I called my brother who was visiting a family friend with the other car. He checked, but again, no luck. So, I told my mom and dad, who then told me I needed to call the airport. So I googled 'Dulles International Airport' and got a number for the TSA lost and found. I got a lengthy explanatory message with instructions regarding baggage. TSA only kept items lost at check points. Any bags left on or near carousels were picked up by airport lost and found or the airlines. So I called the airport lost and found and got a similar message. On both occasions I left a message. I also drove back to the airport last night and spoke with Delta. They were clueless, but I thanked them anyway. I would just have to come back today, which I did.

The operating hours of the lost and found on Saturday are from 10am-2:00pm, so I was out the door a little after 9:30am. When I arrived at the airport I first went to the TSA lost and found, because it was the only one open. I waited for a while, then overheard the lady in charge say to a family in front of me who lost a bag in the baggage claim area that it was airport lost and found that was responsible for their bag I also took my leave with them from the TSA office and waited for someone to show up at the other office. Seeing no one there I went to a little shop called 'Guava and Java' and got myself a cup of hot chocolate. The temperature was good and so was the chocolate. So, I sipped that as I walked back to the airport lost and found office. 

When I got there it was open and there was the family again. They were referred to the airlines with their problem. Also in front of me was an African immigrant or missionary of some kind. He was looking for a bag that he lost containing his bible. Luckily for him, he found it. Then it was my turn. I talked to the guy running the place and he told me to look down this one aisle in the back that held all of December's lost items. I looked up and down the rack. I saw nothing that even remotely resembled my bag. I looked down to the ground slightly depressed and began to speak, "Well, if it weren't here, where else might I expect to find it..." but just as I asked the question I looked at the swivel chair behind his desk. "Wait, that's my bag," I said. But at the same time I was worried that it was actually his. I thought maybe he might have the exact same bag. Silly thought in retrospect, but I was about to ask him just as he asked me its contents. I told him that it should contain my laptop which was a macbook adorned with stickers from different countries. He then ripped of the tag, had my sign it, show ID, and I was on my merry way. 

And so my Christmas vacation starts of with a bang. A good old airport SNAFU. Gotta love it.

Smuggling rosemary across state lines

My room mate is a fan of spices. He has a veritable schmorgasboard of peppers, salts, seasonings, oils and what not. I have on more than one occasion used his seasonings to make delicious roasts, steaks, and other sumptuous meals. 

Unfortunately for both of us, I have a pension for rosemary. I use it a lot. And, that means I used his rosemary a lot. So, after a while we (and by we I mean he) were out of rosemary.

Well, I knew how this little dilemma could be remedied. Over the Thanksgiving break I went to visit my grandparents. And, it just so happens that my grandmother grows a lot of herbs. One herb which she has in vast quantities is rosemary. My room mate knew this when sent a text message to me during a dinner with my grandparents, aunt, uncle, brothers and cousins. This was his text message:

"Hey. Bring back copious amounts of rosemary."

The reason my room mate knew about the rosemary was because he had visited my grandparents' home before when we stopped there on our way to the coast for our surf trip. On that trip we collected bags of kumquats, boxes of oranges, bags of lemons, and of course my room mate grabbed quite a bit of rosemary. So, after having used up all of his rosemary at home, I promised him I'd get some when I went out to my grandparents' home for Thanksgiving. 

He didn't forget my promise.

Getting the rosemary was no big deal. I just told my Nana that my room mate wanted some, and she was more than willing to oblige. She and I went out to her gardens with clippers and she and I went to work. She is probably the most agile pruner I've ever seen. In the time it took me to fill one big freezer bag full of rosemary, she had filled two (For those of you who are not math majors out there, that means I had 3 bags of rosemary). Later, as we were packing to leave, Nana asked if I had remembered to pack the rosemary. I said, "Yes. All three bags," to which Papa replied, "Yessir, yessir, three bags full." He rarely misses an opportunity to be anecdotally irreverent. 

So then it was on to the airport with two carry ons. One was my typical carry on, my computer, head phones and reading material, and the other was the bag full of three sack lunches and three bags of rosemary. After eating the lunches, I was able to consolidate the rosemary into my brother's carry on as well as my own.

Here's where it got interesting. I'm sure you're familiar with the TSA. They are that ever so useful new bureaucracy that screens bags and pats us down at the airport with efficiency that only the government is capable of.

Well, apparently they had either a botanist or herbologist on their staff because they let both me and my brother through security without even lifting an eyebrow at our three giant bags of herbs. I thought to myself, "Wow. Imagine if it wasn't rosemary? Or imagine if we had some other herbs in the bags with the rosemary to trick any drug-sniffing dogs?" 

I had to ask around to figure out if this was a familiar incident with the TSA. 

My other room mate (the one who doesn't really care about rosemary and is not my brother) told me he accidentally left a pocket knife in his bag and he got through without a hitch. My uncle told me a group of his friends had two boxes of airsoft guns in their bags and they only got stopped for sunscreen. A classmate of mine said that he got stopped in the airport for shampoo, while his friend got away with a whole can of mace. Oh TSA. You're so competent (and I love you for it).

Welcome to Visalia Municipal Airport

I am currently sitting at Visalia Municipal Airport. We're not talking about Phoenix, LAX, Boston Logan or even Salt Lake International. We're talking Visalia Municipal. 

On the wall is a framed photo of a man with a cowboy hat leaning on an old biplane. Underneath the picture is a plaque on which the following is written:

SOL SWEET

FOUNDER OF THE VISALIA AIRPORT - 1927

"SOL WAS ONE OF A KIND, A GREAT AND MORAL MAN."

- NORMAN "SUNNY" SUNSTROM

I'm dead serious. Underneath it are two drinking fountains. This place was so busy, I had to ring a bell to get service and am pretty sure I interrupted either a birthday party in the back or a game of gin rummy.

The room is partitioned by a wall with a bunch of windows. On the other side is the x-ray machine and metal detector. On the partition is a sign that says: Be Vigilant. Oh yeah. I'm vigilant. Don't worry. I'll stop all those crazy jihadist farmers who want to take out their neighbor's orange grove.