I think anyone that travels a lot will agree that having to turn off your devices for takeoff and landing is at the very least, inconvenient, and in all honesty, annoying. If you're like me, sometimes you forget and sometimes you just turn off the screen. There have been no documented cases of devices affecting navigational electronics (otherwise, wouldn't terrorists just turn on their phones in flight?!).
Sign the petition (started by George Takai) here.
Showing posts with label airport. Show all posts
Showing posts with label airport. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Friday, November 30, 2012
Coffee Mug Murderer - No More!
Back in August I had an interesting run in with the (alleged) coffee mug murderer on my JFK-LAX flight. Turns out they're dropping the charges with not a lot of other details. Oh, well. Still a cool story I guess.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Flying with the (In)Famous
When it comes to flying, well, as you can see on the sidebar of this page, I get around. I've seen quite a few famous people in airports (the Miami Ink cast, Bruce Bruce), met a few (Lou Farigno and Cesar Millan), and flown with more (John Witherspoon, John Anderson, Chris Broussard, Nicholas Turturro). With my LAX - JFK weekly route, I'm sure that there have been more that I just haven't seen. However, this Thursday's flight took the cake.
When I got to the security line at JFK, I noticed a few extra policemen walking around but didn't think anything of it. I grabbed a bite to eat before boarding, where I was in the second row aisle seat. A guy with a tennis bag came to sit down at the window in my row and asked if I'd heard about the 'coffee cup murderer' in the news. I had read about it, but hadn't seen her picture until I looked it up on my phone as we sat there. Apparently she had just boarded our flight with two large looking marshal types.
The short story is that back in April, 70 year old Lois Ann Goodman's husband of almost 50 years died from a supposed fall down the stairs. She is a professional tennis line judge and was in New York for the upcoming US Open. The Los Angeles coroner found some inconsistencies with a fall, mostly the fact that fragments of a coffee mug were found in his head. Why it took 4 months to figure this out, I don't know. She was arrested in New York and they were flying her back to LA to face charges.
I discreetly got up to use the restroom as others were still boarding, and sure enough - 4 rows behind me, there she was in the window seat. The middle seat was empty and the officers sat in both aisle seats in that row. There were no announcements and it was all very hush-hush. If my seatmate hadn't told me, I never would've known.
At one point on the flight, one of the officers got up and escorted her to the restroom. She was still in her US Open uniform and had her jacket draped over her hands to hide the cuffs. The officer unlocked them when she got to the restroom and then put them back on when she came out. Again, very subtle and most people didn't know to pay attention. She brushed against me as she went back to her seat (as does everyone since I don't really fit into the seats very well). Eerie for me, but she had a blank, emotionless stare the whole time.
When we got off of the plane, it was obvious that they weren't going to escort her through the main terminal. There was a policeman waiting at an emergency exit at the end of the jetway, and luckily it was glass and I could see through it. A few passengers 'in the know' and I waited to try to snap a picture as she left. We could also see a police car on the runway, so I know that the paparazzi and news crews surely waiting at baggage claim weren't going to get a thing.
Looking back, I really should've taken a video instead of a picture. They waiting for everyone to get off the flight before bringing her out, and all I got was this lousy, blurry, pic (I blame the glass that separated us). Regardless, I had a pic, and I know no one else did.
As I descended the escalator toward baggage claim, I could see the ruckus of reporters, cameramen, and others with microphones. A reporter (very hot, I might add) with a KTLA mic was asking everyone if 'she' was coming. I delivered the bad news that she wasn't... but I got a pic.
Immediately, everyone was crowded around me, asking if I could text it to them. It was funny because as you can see, the picture quality is really bad. I briefly had a thought that I could sell it, but I was so embarrassed that they were so desperate for anything that I gave it away to whoever asked.
Once that was finished, the lights came on, mics came up and it was like I was in a press conference. Questions came from all sides - Where was she sitting? What was she wearing? Did she look sad? Did she say anything? Etc. etc.
After the lights went down I made my way to my car and to Lindsay's house. Sure enough, clips from my interview made it on the lead story of all four major LA networks (and even the blurry pic on one channel).
Almost famous.
When I got to the security line at JFK, I noticed a few extra policemen walking around but didn't think anything of it. I grabbed a bite to eat before boarding, where I was in the second row aisle seat. A guy with a tennis bag came to sit down at the window in my row and asked if I'd heard about the 'coffee cup murderer' in the news. I had read about it, but hadn't seen her picture until I looked it up on my phone as we sat there. Apparently she had just boarded our flight with two large looking marshal types.
The short story is that back in April, 70 year old Lois Ann Goodman's husband of almost 50 years died from a supposed fall down the stairs. She is a professional tennis line judge and was in New York for the upcoming US Open. The Los Angeles coroner found some inconsistencies with a fall, mostly the fact that fragments of a coffee mug were found in his head. Why it took 4 months to figure this out, I don't know. She was arrested in New York and they were flying her back to LA to face charges.
I discreetly got up to use the restroom as others were still boarding, and sure enough - 4 rows behind me, there she was in the window seat. The middle seat was empty and the officers sat in both aisle seats in that row. There were no announcements and it was all very hush-hush. If my seatmate hadn't told me, I never would've known.
At one point on the flight, one of the officers got up and escorted her to the restroom. She was still in her US Open uniform and had her jacket draped over her hands to hide the cuffs. The officer unlocked them when she got to the restroom and then put them back on when she came out. Again, very subtle and most people didn't know to pay attention. She brushed against me as she went back to her seat (as does everyone since I don't really fit into the seats very well). Eerie for me, but she had a blank, emotionless stare the whole time.
When we got off of the plane, it was obvious that they weren't going to escort her through the main terminal. There was a policeman waiting at an emergency exit at the end of the jetway, and luckily it was glass and I could see through it. A few passengers 'in the know' and I waited to try to snap a picture as she left. We could also see a police car on the runway, so I know that the paparazzi and news crews surely waiting at baggage claim weren't going to get a thing.
 |
| My horrible photo made it onto a local LA news broadcast |
As I descended the escalator toward baggage claim, I could see the ruckus of reporters, cameramen, and others with microphones. A reporter (very hot, I might add) with a KTLA mic was asking everyone if 'she' was coming. I delivered the bad news that she wasn't... but I got a pic.
Immediately, everyone was crowded around me, asking if I could text it to them. It was funny because as you can see, the picture quality is really bad. I briefly had a thought that I could sell it, but I was so embarrassed that they were so desperate for anything that I gave it away to whoever asked.
Once that was finished, the lights came on, mics came up and it was like I was in a press conference. Questions came from all sides - Where was she sitting? What was she wearing? Did she look sad? Did she say anything? Etc. etc.
After the lights went down I made my way to my car and to Lindsay's house. Sure enough, clips from my interview made it on the lead story of all four major LA networks (and even the blurry pic on one channel).
Almost famous.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Deported... almost
As I returned from my trip to Fiji, I went through Customs expecting some scrutinizing for my souvenirs containing wood. I stepped up to the official and handed them my passport plus declaration card. They promptly asked me to come through and step to the side because someone needed to talk to me. When I asked if this was about my souvenirs, they said no. Hmm...
After a bit of a wait, a lady started asking me about my visa (a 977 short term business visa). It's good for 90 days at a time for up to a year, as I understood it. I made the trip to Fiji because my 90 days were up and went home twice for the same reason. No big deal, right?
They sat me down in the Customs area and I watched in envy as everyone else filtered through the lines, off to freedom. I looked back longingly as I was escorted into a little room with a camera in the upper corner, large window in the back plus a small table with a chair that was bolted to the floor. I had this vision in my head of The Bourne Identity when he plays mute through his interview at customs until he whooped up on the agents and escaped. I couldn't find a YouTube video of it, so this approximate reenactment will have to do. PS - I am the one in the American flag shorts.
While I had already busted out in my head, a guy came into my interview room putting on blue rubber gloves. Suddenly my big cajones shrunk and drew inward and I tightened my... other muscles... and took a big gulp. I think he saw the fear in my eyes as he stepped toward me and picked up my bag off the floor. "I'm going to look through your bag now."
"Oh."
I silently sighed in relief and watched as he pulled out and carefully expected all of my clothes from the trip. Penetration averted. After he was satisfied that I wasn't smuggling anything, he left (I totally could've taken him out if I wanted to) and a woman came in. For the next hour and a half she asked me questions into a tape recorder and took notes. Why are you here? What kind of work you do? Do you get paid in US or Australian dollars? What other countries have you been to? How much money do you have in your wallet? When do you plan to leave again? And on and on and on.
The interrogator would come in and talk to me for half an hour and then leave for ten minutes to speak with her manager, then come back in and repeat the process. I'm not sure if they were trying to make me sweat or change my story, but I just went back to reading my book every time they left. They even asked for my local coworkers' phone numbers
About two hours later we got down to the heart of the matter. One of the stipulations of the visa is that it cannot be used for "ongoing work". They felt that I was breaking this rule. The 977 was only supposed to be for conferences, meetings, training, etc and even then for six weeks at a time. Why is it valid for 90 days if it was only designed for six weeks? Well, they couldn't answer that one. I didn't want to make them mad enough to ship me out, so I let it go.
My plans were to go home from December 16th-27th, come back until the end of the project and leave on February 5th. The lady told me straight up, "We are going to let you in this time, but if you come back into Australia on this visa you will not get in."
By that time three hours had gone by and as they released me from interrogation there were no other passengers left in the airport. The baggage belts were motionless and there were only a few employees milling around. They had to go find someone to turn on the X-ray machine for my bags, because apparently doing a hand search wasn't enough. Then they had to find someone else to unlock the exit doors - I was lucky there were any taxis in the queue.
"Home" at last.
More on the outcome in my next post.
After a bit of a wait, a lady started asking me about my visa (a 977 short term business visa). It's good for 90 days at a time for up to a year, as I understood it. I made the trip to Fiji because my 90 days were up and went home twice for the same reason. No big deal, right?
They sat me down in the Customs area and I watched in envy as everyone else filtered through the lines, off to freedom. I looked back longingly as I was escorted into a little room with a camera in the upper corner, large window in the back plus a small table with a chair that was bolted to the floor. I had this vision in my head of The Bourne Identity when he plays mute through his interview at customs until he whooped up on the agents and escaped. I couldn't find a YouTube video of it, so this approximate reenactment will have to do. PS - I am the one in the American flag shorts.
While I had already busted out in my head, a guy came into my interview room putting on blue rubber gloves. Suddenly my big cajones shrunk and drew inward and I tightened my... other muscles... and took a big gulp. I think he saw the fear in my eyes as he stepped toward me and picked up my bag off the floor. "I'm going to look through your bag now."
"Oh."
I silently sighed in relief and watched as he pulled out and carefully expected all of my clothes from the trip. Penetration averted. After he was satisfied that I wasn't smuggling anything, he left (I totally could've taken him out if I wanted to) and a woman came in. For the next hour and a half she asked me questions into a tape recorder and took notes. Why are you here? What kind of work you do? Do you get paid in US or Australian dollars? What other countries have you been to? How much money do you have in your wallet? When do you plan to leave again? And on and on and on.
The interrogator would come in and talk to me for half an hour and then leave for ten minutes to speak with her manager, then come back in and repeat the process. I'm not sure if they were trying to make me sweat or change my story, but I just went back to reading my book every time they left. They even asked for my local coworkers' phone numbers
About two hours later we got down to the heart of the matter. One of the stipulations of the visa is that it cannot be used for "ongoing work". They felt that I was breaking this rule. The 977 was only supposed to be for conferences, meetings, training, etc and even then for six weeks at a time. Why is it valid for 90 days if it was only designed for six weeks? Well, they couldn't answer that one. I didn't want to make them mad enough to ship me out, so I let it go.
My plans were to go home from December 16th-27th, come back until the end of the project and leave on February 5th. The lady told me straight up, "We are going to let you in this time, but if you come back into Australia on this visa you will not get in."
By that time three hours had gone by and as they released me from interrogation there were no other passengers left in the airport. The baggage belts were motionless and there were only a few employees milling around. They had to go find someone to turn on the X-ray machine for my bags, because apparently doing a hand search wasn't enough. Then they had to find someone else to unlock the exit doors - I was lucky there were any taxis in the queue.
"Home" at last.
More on the outcome in my next post.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Return to Santiago
I came back to Chile today for another month working in Santiago. It's so different from a few months ago. There's no mystery in where to go or what to do. Now if I could only speak the language.
When I got to the Atlanta airport I decided it was time to go ahead and get out of my comfort zone. I approached a stranger (gasp) on the inter-terminal tram. Of course it was a female, because as awkward as talking to a girl is, I think it would be more awkward talking to a guy. I was in need of a dinner conversation, but unfortunately her flight didn't give her enough time. We did get to discussing Rosetta Stone, of which I am a big fan (except for the price tag). I showed her how it worked and passed the time, since I was really early (2 hours early for an international flight - yeah right). I still ended up eating dinner alone, but mission accomplished to waste some time and get out of my shell in preparation for that necessity on my trip.
I must admit that I watched Harry Potter on the flight. I think the guy next to me might have been judging, but I guess I would judge, too. I got a little more sleep on the plane than I did the first time, thanks partly to the Benadryl that I didn't forget this time, and partly to the lack of anxiety about the trip. Just like on my last trip, 75% or more of the flight were senior citizens going on a cruise. The couple in front of me gave me a bunch of Starbucks cookies, because apparently raisins and nuts aren't allowed into the country (score!).
My apartment wasn't ready in the morning, so I had to go straight into the office. Now I really feel like a zombie. It doesn't help that everyone says, "You really look tired." Gee, thanks. I made it home, took a nap and then after much internal debate went to the California Bar to watch the Orange Bowl between GT and Iowa. I thought I might get lucky and find some Yellowjacket fans, but no dice. I was UNLUCKY enough to find 3 Iowa fans as soon as I walked in, but they were cool enough to let me sit with them. One of them does promotions for a Santiago Pub Crawl which I am definitely going to check out. GT lost the game, but it was OK because I got to talk some basketball trash to some UNC MBAs doing a study abroad.
When I got to the Atlanta airport I decided it was time to go ahead and get out of my comfort zone. I approached a stranger (gasp) on the inter-terminal tram. Of course it was a female, because as awkward as talking to a girl is, I think it would be more awkward talking to a guy. I was in need of a dinner conversation, but unfortunately her flight didn't give her enough time. We did get to discussing Rosetta Stone, of which I am a big fan (except for the price tag). I showed her how it worked and passed the time, since I was really early (2 hours early for an international flight - yeah right). I still ended up eating dinner alone, but mission accomplished to waste some time and get out of my shell in preparation for that necessity on my trip.
I must admit that I watched Harry Potter on the flight. I think the guy next to me might have been judging, but I guess I would judge, too. I got a little more sleep on the plane than I did the first time, thanks partly to the Benadryl that I didn't forget this time, and partly to the lack of anxiety about the trip. Just like on my last trip, 75% or more of the flight were senior citizens going on a cruise. The couple in front of me gave me a bunch of Starbucks cookies, because apparently raisins and nuts aren't allowed into the country (score!).
My apartment wasn't ready in the morning, so I had to go straight into the office. Now I really feel like a zombie. It doesn't help that everyone says, "You really look tired." Gee, thanks. I made it home, took a nap and then after much internal debate went to the California Bar to watch the Orange Bowl between GT and Iowa. I thought I might get lucky and find some Yellowjacket fans, but no dice. I was UNLUCKY enough to find 3 Iowa fans as soon as I walked in, but they were cool enough to let me sit with them. One of them does promotions for a Santiago Pub Crawl which I am definitely going to check out. GT lost the game, but it was OK because I got to talk some basketball trash to some UNC MBAs doing a study abroad.
Friday, September 11, 2009
New Post on Anna's Style Blog
Check out my latest post on Anna's blog for my views on what people wear in airports.
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