Du ti duh ti duh . . . so innocent, so cheerful, with shining faces and confident walks we quickly, easily checked in to the little self-service kiosk -- which then directly us to the longest line I've EVER seen at PDX to "drop off" our baggage. "What the hell is the point?!" I mean, the airport tellers weren't any quicker than they were in the ancient paper-ticket days! So . . really, what is the point? Are they now playing computer solitaire on their busy little computers -- their eyes sucked into their screens as the non-eye-contact questioning continues pretty much unchanged in 30+ years --- how CAN it take so long if we've already "checked in."
We arrived at the real-live-person-check-in-desk with uncharacteristically ingratiating expressions, carefully dressed (Ulys even changed into a "better" pair of running shoes). After all, we weren't sure how this stand-by thing works. The non-eye-contact-teller, pleasant but very very busy, told us that the flight was oversold but maybe . . you never know . . . maybe someone -- err at least 5 people -- wouldn't show up.
Within minutes my physically pubescent, emotionally adolescent 10 year old was weeping -- and continued to do so as we watched EVERYONE board the plane. Finally called to the podium, we were cheerfully given 4 first-class seats. Smiling happy Pollyannas we were again! Except for said daughter -- who now cried even harder -- with relief.
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