It's Not the TSA, it's Your Fellow Passengers

All the hoopla over the TSA and their tactics is getting just a bit ridiculous. Do you really think these folks really want to touch your junk as many have put it? I for one have no problem with the procedures faced at the airports and I do make a lot of trips back and forth from Alaska to Portland. I realize that there are a number of people that do have a problem with it, including some of my friends and too them I offer a little bit of sympathy. My frustration derives from my fellow passengers and I would like to share a good example with you from my recent flight from or non flight as it turned out from Anchorage, AK to Prudhoe Bay, AK. As a North Slope worker I have to commute from Anchorage to Prudhoe Bay on a bi-weekly basis. The normal procedure on the current contract I work, is to board an Alaskan Airlines jet at the Ted Stevens Airport on a Monday morning at about 5:40, and shortly after 6:00 am we are usually in the air making a stop in Fairbanks, AK before flying on to Prudhoe. The aircraft is normally a (COMBI) which is a 737 with the front portion dedicated to freight and room for I suppose about 80 or so passengers to the rear of the plane. On Monday, the 22nd, at about 5:00 am I had found a seat near my gate and sized up some of the other folks in the boarding area. Who doesn’t people watch while waiting for a flight? Out of the corner of my left eye, I noticed a very large lady meaning tall and large in build as well. She emphasized her stature by choosing winter clothing that from a distance that made "yeti," come to mind. We're talking the tall fur hat that would make the royal guards in London jealous. The lady was pulling an airport cart with a number of items stacked haphazardly and yes the thought of homeless street yeti did pop into my head. I also believed that she must be traveling with someone because no one could possibly think they would be allowed to haul that much stuff onto an aircraft. I sat waiting for Mr. Yeti to show up anticipating what he might be wearing. The weather outside sucked, freezing rain had plagued much of the state but it looked as though it would not delay our departure. I somehow lost track and interest in the yeti and focused on the weather. The boarding process started and I was on my way to the tarmac. The thing about a COMBI aircraft is that you cannot board it using the normal covered means. You have to walk down a few flights of stairs and across the tarmac and board the aircraft just like they did in the 50's and 60's, by a portable stairway. This is where the flight turned on me. I made my way to the stairway and half way up the line came to a standstill. It wouldn't have been half bad had it not been for the freezing rain finding its way down the back of my neck. We all stood patiently on the ice covered stairway waiting for signs of life. After five minutes the line started to move and I approached my seat, 26D my usual isle seat on this flight. I stood in the isle looking for a spot in the overhead for my single carry on but there was no room. That conclusion came at the same time the once frozen rain, dripped of my head and off the end of my nose. It was now clear why most of us stood outside in the elements like milk cows heading to the milk barn. Seated in 26E, the middle seat next to me was none other than "the yeti lady" who had taken every available space in the overhead for her crap including her award winning hat, which actually took at least 1/4 of the space all by itself. Now understand that I am a large guy so I feel that I can say these kinds of things about others without feeling too guilty. Now seated in the window seat was another person that made Yeti and I look like a petite window models, so yeti lady was already crowed 1/4 of the way onto the area reserved for my butt. She looked up at me with those sorrowful yeti eyes and said, "Sorry the flight is full, I already asked." My comment back didn't seem to help matters at all. "Well maybe I can just sit on your lap" I said, while placing my bag into the next available overhead bin. Taking my seat, attempting to balance myself on my left cheek and looking like the logo from a Leaning Tree greeting card, I managed to get my seatbelt fastened and said, "Well this isn't too bad!" Yeti gave a half assed smile and said, "Would you mind, I forgot to turn off my phone, it's in one of my bags," pointing to the overhead. What came out of my mouth was nowhere near what I was thinking, which was, "While I'm up would you like me to find your yeti kibble as well?" I of course didn't say that but it crossed my mind. After digging through her stuff I found the little purse that contained her phone and handed it to her, then spent the next three minutes trying to put everything back. Taking my seat I once again do my balancing act and buckle up. From the back we probably looked like those Russian nesting dolls, you know, the hollow rounded dolls that fit one inside the other. The captain explains that due to the freezing rain, the aircraft had to be de-iced twice prior to take off and we slowly started to back into place for our hosing so to speak. We sit quietly waiting for the equipment to arrive to de-ice the plane. Yeti has her phone out and starts to look at weather and says, "Huh, I am surprised we are even going to Fairbanks, the weather there is really bad!" Shortly after she uttered those words she began to struggle a bit for air. The flight attendant just happened to be walking by and noticed. Yeti managed to hiss that she was having an asthma attack and couldn't breathe but assured us she would be OK if she could just get her battery powered nebulizer from the above storage. At the same time she turned on her light and for the first time I noticed that her black sweater was covered with animal hair. Hhmmmm, and on cue, I hear the sound of a distressed cat which I had not noticed before, peering at me from a small carrying case located at her owners feet. The flight attendant spends a good five minutes moving stuff around and manages to find a little inhaler as opposed to the nebulizer all the while I am thinking, "Are you kidding me, you have asthma and you have to take your cat with you on a trip?" Yeti decides that the little inhaler will offer up enough relief for the short flight to Fairbanks. I was so relieved, I was wondering how it would all play out when the order came to turn off all electrical devices. She took a couple of deep draws off the inhaler and mentioned to the flight attendant that the weather was turning bad in Fairbanks. Now I know why a yeti has never been captured before, they have smart phone technology that keeps them informed! "This is the captain, we will be returning to the gate due to worsening ice conditions in Fairbanks!" I wonder how long we will sit on the plane because to be honest, I am allergic to cats and I to start to feel discomfort in my chest as well as a little itchy thing going on which may have been psychosomatic but the urge to scream was not! Thoughts raced as I contemplated wrestling the inhaler from Yeti's large hands. Fifteen minutes after arriving back at the gate the announcement was made that they had cancelled the Fairbanks portion of the flight and they asked all Fairbanks passengers to disembark the aircraft. I jumped out of my seat and ran to the front portion of the passenger area to allow the two ladies in my row to make a clean exit. I didn't want to be anywhere near the lady as she blocked the isle getting her stuff out of her private overhead storage with disregard to the other passengers. At least this time they would be stuck behind her in a nice warm cabin as opposed to freezing rain. I stretched out in comfort in a row all to myself as I waited for the flight onto Prudhoe Bay direct, with no stop in Fairbanks or cats to get in the way. Life was good again right up to the point when the captain announced that the conditions at Prudhoe Bay had fallen below the minimum acceptable and we would be returning to the gate until further notice. Several hours later I did make it to Prudhoe in time to get one hour of work in at least. Like I said, the TSA is a piece of cake compared to some of your fellow passengers. Happy travel and have a great Thanksgiving!

Some Color for the Page

I decided that maybe a little color from the slope might be nice. This little batch of flowers are loctated in the parking lot area of the Alaska Airlines termanal in Deadhorse. This is the airport that serves passengers traveling to the North Slope of Alaska. These are known as, "River Beauty."

Little closer view for you flower lovers.

What Would Ben Do

I WONDER WHAT BEN WOULD DO?

I am a sloper. That is I work on the North Slope of Alaska and I have the privilege of living in the North West corner of Montana. I fly back and forth every two weeks. Two weeks on, two weeks off. Being away from my family is hard but it is a small inconvenience compared to the true sacrifices endured everyday by our military personnel and their families.
I am a frequent flyer and as a result, I receive upgrades on a regular basis into the first class cabin. In August of 2004, on one of my return home flights from Seattle to Spokane, Washington, I had the privilege of meeting a man named Ben Stein. Ben is a summertime resident of Northern Idaho. The name is known by many and associated by most with a comical game show host. He is comical and perhaps one of the friendliest celebrities I have met. There is a great deal more to Ben then being funny and friendly. Ben is extremely wise. He did after all work for two U.S. Presidents. A man of values who speaks his mind and tells it like it is. When Mr. Stein writes or speaks of our armed forces, it is done with passion. Being the son of a veteran, and a veteran myself, I appreciate these traits.
The year 2004 is my year to be home for the holidays. I left the slope on the morning of December 20th. I had not slept well the night before, most likely because of the excitement of going home. During the brief sleep that I did manage, I had a dream. In the dream, I was standing in a line at an airport. A young soldier approached the line and waited. During a conversation, it became clear that he had just returned from Iraq. In my dream, he wore green fatigues of another era. I thought to myself, how strange that the soldier was traveling in his fatigues but it was after all just a dream. I boarded before the soldier and I found myself asking, “What would Ben do?” I took my seat in the first row isle and waited. As the soldier stepped through the door of the aircraft, I stood up and told him that he would take my seat and I would take his. The dream ended there and when I woke, I remember thinking, “What the hell was that all about?” Although just a dream, it made me feel good. I assumed that articles written by Mr. Stein had prompted it or had at least played a small roll in my subconscious travels.
The next morning as my plane left the slope, headed for Anchorage, I gave little thought to the dream. Due to a number of delays, I arrived at the SeaTac Airport later than planned but I was fortunate enough to get a seat in first class on a slightly earlier flight to Spokane than I was scheduled for. As I stood in line waiting for the boarding process to begin, I looked toward the airline service desk and waited momentarily while my mind absorbed what my eyes were telling it. A young soldier stood at the counter. The uniform was that of a new era. An era brought on by a new kind of foe. Desert fatigues, designed to blend in with the blowing sands of a Middle Eastern battlefield. As in my dream, I found myself thinking how strange it was seeing him travel in his fatigues. The soldier took his place in line and was immediately engaged in a conversation with curious travelers. The patch on his left shoulder told me that he was a member of a Mechanized Infantry unit. The big red “1” on his right shoulder identified his battalion. He said that he had just flown back from Iraq and would not be returning. He explained that he was a gunner on a Humvee and when asked by the less sensitive people around him, he gave graphic descriptions of events that one day might not be so willingly given up.
All of us who stood around him were thinking how it must feel to return from battle in one piece. Although we did not know him, I am sure everyone else was as glad as I was that he had made it home. I knew that once we boarded the aircraft I would be giving my seat too him. The dream that I had the night before was not just a dream, it was opportunity knocking. An opportunity to show some appreciation.
As if from nowhere, an outstretched hand reached for the soldier. A tall thin kid with wide eyes stood in front of him. We all stood looking at the kid who wore the dark long belted coat and spit shined shoes of someone fresh out of basic. The first thing he asked was, “Did you just get back from Iraq?”
“Yes, yes I did!”
The younger kid looked at him with a thousand questions in his eyes. “I get shipped out after Christmas!” Suddenly the good feelings I had moments before when the first GI announced he would not be going back were down graded a bit. I looked at the youthful face of this young man and contemplated his fate hoping that one day he too would be standing in his fatigues announcing to strangers that his tour was complete. A moment of silence penetrated the air. The older experience GI looked at him and asked, “Are you old enough to drink?” The reply was yes, and he put his hand on the young man’s shoulder and they walked away from the rest of us heading for the little establishment located near our gate. It reminded me of something from an old World War II movie. I wish I had had my camera at the ready.
As I boarded the aircraft, I took my seat in one D and waited. People poured into the plane, and one of the last people to board was the GI in his fatigues. I stood in front of him and asked what his seat assignment was. I told him that he could stow his gear and take my seat. He looked at me for a moment and said very slowly, “Ok.” As I turned and headed to the coach seat, I noticed that behind the soldier was the younger soldier, but before he walked through the first class cabin, the man seated in one C stood and told him to take a seat. He too then moved to coach. That was truly outstanding. It is a short flight from Seattle to Spokane but it will always be the most memorable for me.
Just prior to landing, the flight attendant approached me with five photos. He handed them to me and told me that the man I had given my seat to wanted me to have them. I was thrilled. The photos were of the typical Iraq scenes, everything light brown including the buildings. Children posing for the photographer, tanks, Spanish soldiers. Great photos that I shall keep with other items I consider valuable. One of the photos depicts a line of Humvees near a village. The scribbled message on the back choked me a bit, “VILLAGE RAID AFTER MY FRIEND DIED!”
We landed in Spokane and after I deplaned, I walked through the terminal heading for the shuttle bus. The two GIs stepped out of the bathroom I was passing and my friend in the fatigues walked up to me and shook my hand. He then reached out and gave me an awkward hug thanking me. The best I could come up with was, “Thank you two for your service to this country.” I walked away and down the stairs into the main terminal lobby. Standing there where several family members of these two and it was easy to tell which one was the mother to the one who had just returned from Iraq. How she must have felt at that moment.
Still high from the experience, I wrote an E-mail to Mr. Stein and told him about the dream and the actual events that followed. His response was what I had expected. He said he would have upgraded them both and if given the opportunity I know he would do exactly that.
For those who read this, let me ask, what will you do when given the opportunity? Will you pretend that you do not see them? Will you simply buy a sticker that says you support them thinking that this marks you as a caring American. Opportunity is knocking at your door. Take a moment and walk up to the next person you see in uniform and shake their hand, say thanks. Buy him or her, a cup of coffee or pay for their lunch. When you see a vehicle in the store parking lot and it displays the license plate of a POW, walk your kids up to the driver and let them shake his hand. It will make a number of people feel good.
Saying thanks to those who serve should not be exclusive to Veterans Day, Memorial Day but rather inclusive to everyday. Opportunity is knocking! What will you do?

Randy Cole

This story is the one that was edited by Ben Stein a few years ago. The story was used as the bases for a column in the Spokesman Review written by Rebecca Nappi and published on January 1, 2005.

Tinkerbell in Prudhoe

Ahhhh, spring in Prudhoe Bay brings many changes. This photo was taken by BJ Wood who is also a sloper, (one who works on the North Slope of Alaska.) Many of our flights are chartered from Alaska Airlines to fly workers to the slope from Anchorage. This one is a bit over the top! Believe me the slope is not a Magic Kingdom.