Traveling home, part two |

Traveling home, part two

Carrie Click

In last weeks Point & Click, I described the thrill of losing ones only form of official photo identification while traveling to and from Reno, Nev., via the friendly skies (the quotes here are meant to invoke the supremest form of sarcasm).I missed my connecting flight in Phoenix while traveling from Reno to Grand Junction on May 11 because I lost my drivers license somewhere between Reno and Phoenix.That turned my 45-minute layover in Phoenix into a four-hour wait, because I basically had to remove everything metallic from my body while airport security went through every item in my luggage. That took some time. With four hours to spare, I thought about venturing outside the airport, but nope think again. With no identification, I was basically trapped inside this side of security. If I left the confines of this part of the airport, its doubtful I could ever get back home and I wasnt feeling overly enthusiastic about setting up house in surface-of-the-sun Phoenix. Somehow, the hours ticked by and it was finally time for us to board our little prop plane to Junction. Coming out of the airport and walking to the plane was like getting hit in the face by a blow torch. Phoenix is warm, and especially warm on a black tarmac. We stepped onto the plane, settled into our seats and taxied out to the runway. But not so fast. After waiting what seemed like a half-hour, the flight attendant, who we could all see and hear without amplification since the plane was so small, got on the intercom and said the words no one wants to hear.We have some bad news, she said.The gist was that the plane had some mysterious electrical problem and we had to return to the gate. Not only that, but once we got to the gate, we couldnt deplane (isnt that the word they use?). Instead, the attendant got on the speaker again and asked how many of us would like a free alcoholic beverage. Every hand shot up. Some people held up two. Just count us and double it, grumbled the guy across the aisle. A pickup truck filled with ice and beer cans pulled up alongside the plane like a mirage. We wouldnt be able to imbibe until it was wheels-up a full two hours later something about liquor licensing and having to be in the air before drinking. When we landed in Grand Junction, it was 11:30 p.m., and we tiredly crept off the plane and headed to the airport doors. Foiled again. The airport was closed and locked up tight. One of my fellow passengers considered jumping off a concrete bridge to the grass and freedom below. It took another 15 minutes, after banging on the big windows facing the runway, to get an all-night security guy to let us in. And out. Out of airport land. Out of missed connection country. Out of lost ID territory until the next flight we take. Carrie Click is the editor and general manager of The Citizen Telegram ( in Rifle. She liked it better when everybody dressed up for plane travel, and IDs werent necessary. Carrie can be reached at 625-3245, ext. 101,

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