Yesterday was a thirty-hour day for me, of which I must have been up for around twenty-four hours straight. The flights were pretty good, all things considered. They ran smoothly and surprisingly punctually, the first arriving exactly on time and the second five minutes early. The wait at Cincinnati was only a few hours and immigration was fairly fast although they’ve taken to photographing and fingerprinting new arrivals.
Neither flight boasted terribly impressive in-flight entertainment, the first only featuring a few ceiling-mounted TV screens (not individual ones for each seat) and the second having none at all. That said, the first flight showed Lost in Translation at some point as we crossed the Atlantic and I’ve been waiting for a chance to rewatch it. I now understand what one reviewer meant when he described the film as changing subtly with each viewing. This time for me it became a film about insomnia, and how we act as result. My sleeping patterns leave a lot to be desired, and it seemed to portray what might happen one sleepless night if, instead of being alone at home, I had the company of another insomniac…
I became distinctly less impressed with the whole travel experience today, however. While unpacking my luggage, I came across a note which had been thrust between my clothes. From the Transport Security Authority (TSA) it explained why my bag had been hanging slightly open when we recovered it from the baggage claim belt. What we had assumed was the result of poor handling was in fact a heavy=handed search procedure by the TSA. Deciding to perform a random search without my presence, they took it upon themselves to break the locks of my bag (an action for which, the assured me in their note, they took no liability!). I have yet to discover whether I need to replace the suitcase. Needless to say I feel a strongly worded letter is due, though probably once I’ve left the “safety” of this wonderful country…
Leave a Reply