Canceled and Delayed

Last week, we woke up at 4 am and took the night bus to Dublin International Airport for our 7 am flight. After a tango with a representive who was very fond of rules and regulations, and several fees later, we were on our way to security.

We need to take a moment to mention our previous encounters with security checkpoints. I have managed to bypass five of them, without anything being siezed. Even though the contents of my carryons include: a large swiss army knife, many locks and abnormally large padlocks, sealed glass containers, unlabled pills, batteries, needles, a multitude of various liquids, satelite transmitters, and god knows how many chords.

Rosie, on the other hand, carries only clothing and one water bottle. Said bottle, or "flask" as it so often called, has managed to send flags up and down the security line. It usually goes a little something like this.

"Miss, is this your bag?" "yep." "Is this a flask?" "yep." "Is it empty?" "yep." "Miss, please remove the flask from your bag." "yep."

The flask is then removed as if it was a hand grenade sans pin, and thoroughly inspected. After they are convinced that she didn't have anthrax, agent orange, or all of al queda, tucked away in it we are allowed to continue. On one occation, Rosie was given an agressive pat-down, complete with a hand inside the pants.

At one point, Rosie also had in her possesion one 150 mg container of expensive lotion from Macy's. That was until we went through the security at Salzberg.

To me, "Miss, what is that dark blackish blue blob?" "Just a padlock." "Ok, thats fine. And are these glasses?" "Yep." "Great, have a nice flight." To Rosie, "Miss, what is this?" "Lotion." "Miss, you are not allowed to carry more than 100 mg of liquid onto a flight. We are going to have to confinscate this." They were unimpressed with the fact that half of the container was empty.

At the Dublin Airport however, they did decide to confinscate my swiss army knife. And Rosie was given the above mentioned pat-down, as well as the standard water bottle inquisition.

When we finally got to the gate, we sat down and began setteling in. On our intinerary, we had three separate flights booked with different airlines. The first was with Ryanair from Dublin to Luton, London. The second from Luton to Istanbul with Easyjet. And a third with Turkish Air from Istanbul to Ankora. All flights were booked close together to minimize the airport experience.

As we sat munching on the rare treat of organic baking, things were looking pretty good. That is, until we heard this announcment. "Flight number FR 332 departing to Luton, London has been canceled, as this airport has been closed. Passengers are asked to collect checked baggage." We sat there in stunned silence as we realized we just missed all three of our flights.

Then I ran to baggage claim and Rosie raced to the Ryanair counters with three hundred of our closest friends. After waiting in the endless line, we were able to get a full refund from the lovely representative.

At this point, for the first time in twenty years, a gentle snow began to blanket Dublin.

Meanwhile, it was time to scout out the next flight to Istanbul. The only option was via Turkish Air, departing in one hour. We negotiated at ticketing for the lowest possible fairs, then raced through security again, ("Ma'am! Is this your flask?!"), arriving at the gate just in time to board. We snuggled into our comfy seats, accepted bags of hazelnuts and free drinks, and waited for take off.

Four hours later, we were asked to please disembark the flight, as it had been delayed. We were encouraged to walk around the terminal, and informed that our baggage was being kept in the airplane's hold.

One hour later, the departure board listing of "Istanbul Flight TA976" began to flash CANCELED.

Moments later it was joined by every other departing flight. And we were informed by a friendly representive via loudspeaker that Dublin Airport was now closed.

The difference between man and beast has never been so small. Instant panic insued, as the masses began to push towards baggage. Again we joined by many people we would grow to know and love in the endless lines winding back from the counters. This time though, we knew we could wait until the flight was resceduled - as we had booked all of the way with Turkish Airlines. So we did what any true Seattlite does when in a dilema. We paid a visit to the airports Starbucks (which refused to take my Starbucks card), and walked away with two peppermint hot chocoloates.

Then I settled into bag guarding and baby watching with the other passengers from canceled flight TA976. While Rosie braved the que. Or rather the pool of chaos that was referred to as the que. Teams were quickly formed as we waited our turn to speak with the hassled counter girls for ticket refunds, itinerary changes, and hotel bookings. On Rosie's side was June, a sixty year old grandmother from the countryside who had a mouth of a sailor, Alex a flamingly gay 22 year old Israeli American, and Laura a sassy dublin-ite.

At 11 that night, we were bussed to a hotel where we were allowed 3 hours sleep before making our way back to the now familiar Dublin Airport. We spent that morning and afternoon waiting at the gate while the plane waited for the only de-icer the airport had. We were number 54 in the que. Finally, we took off and spent a lovely flight to Istanbul and then Ankora.