Tammi won a trip to Napa with her work for being like Realtor Extraordinaire and I got to reap the benefits of her recent break-up with the BF and got to go along for the ride. Flew to Napa, and other than learning that Tammi is physically incapable of having her picture taken with her eyes open, we had a great time and got smashed on wine and cheese and muscle relaxers.
But then the trip home almost proved to be our undoing. Let me start at the beginning with Check-In. Now, we were flying out of Oakland, which is where MOST people visiting Napa fly out of. So, being in Napa, I purchased a little bit of wine. Ok, quite a bit of wine, but whatever, that's beside the point.
We received special packaging from the winery, full of Styrofoam and all that good stuff. We get up to the counter and put our open boxes of wine up for the Check-In Girl to, you know, check. She didn’t even look in the box at all. She grabbed it and put it on the conveyer behind her. We asked her to grab it back so we can tape it up. We then asked, "Should we tape that up?" She said, "If you want to."
Now, she works at this airport. I'm sure there is a SHIT LOAD of wine going out of there. So, we said, "You know, we've never shipped wine before, and I'm quite sure you have. What do you suggest we do?" So she handed us a roll of tape. I don't have a very good track record with tape in general, but I grabbed it and wrapped it around the box. Then I stood there and stared at her. "Scissors, maybe?" I asked. She had to search around for scissors. Because I'm sure no one has ever shipped wine before.
Fast forward to Security. Let me list for you what I decided to carry onto the plane. 1. A carry-on bag with all my hair and make-up stuff. 2. My purse with all the normal purse stuff in it. 3. A really scary big pointy sharp terrorist looking umbrella. It was leopard print though, so it was way cute. So I piled all my stuff into one bin, took off my extra-pointy death stilettos and proceeded through the metal detector. Tammi followed behind me. "BAG CHECK!" Great.
I took this carry-on onto the plane from Phoenix to Oakland with no problem at all. None. So the douche behind the plastic table began to take every single little tube of something out of my bag. Everything. Please come with me down the road to insanity:
Jenn: What's the problem?
Airport Security Douche: These liquids over 3 oz. need to be in a bag
J: They are in a bag
ASD: They need to be in a clear bag
J: They are in a clear bag. (My make-up bag was clear)
ASD: They need to be in a sealable clear bag
J: They are in a sealable clear bag
ASD: You need to go get one of our bags
J: Fine, where do I get that?
ASD: You need to get one
J: Where do I get a bag?
ASD: Yes, you need a bag
J: WHERE DO I GET A FUCKING BAG??
ASD: Outside of security.
At this point I proceeded, barefoot, back through security and got yelled at by every single mentally challenged security officer. YOU CAN'T GO THROUGH HERE! Ok. So I went back to Airport Security Douche-Bag and continued to ask him where to get a DIFFERENT clear bag than what I had. He told me that I had to stand there until he was finished going through it. I casually mentioned that we do have a flight to catch and that we were already running late. I suggested he put everything back in the bag and I would just check it and if he thought it would make it on the flight. He said that maybe it would if I hurried, as he sloooowwwlly put my After Party back into the make-up bag.
So I grabbed the bag and shoved everything back inside as he grabbed it back from me and said he would do it and escort me back out of security. Ok, so I suppose I can see why my anti-frizz gel could be dangerous. Much much more dangerous than earlier mentioned pointy sharp terrorist umbrella, which no one had said anything about yet.
I ran my ass down to the Check-In area again, with Tammi in tow and walked right up to the retard that didn't know how to ship wine. She recognized us because she asked what happened. We told her and asked if the bag would make it on the flight to which she replied, in all her glory, "What flight?"
Let's fast forward again to Security for Round 2...
Tammi and I had put all of our stuff on the same x-ray machine as before. Same people, same line, same Airport Security Douche. Once again..."BAG CHECK!" Oh. My. God. This time they needed to search my purse. They already looked in my purse before. This is what was in my purse: Chapstick, phone, camera, business card holder. That was it.
And they searched Tammi’s purse too, which had already been through as well. They continued to pull out every single tube of lip gloss out of her bag and started in with the bag conversation–again:
Female Airport Security Douche: Youah needa ah bahg fo dese
Tammi: Where do I get a bag?
FASD: Outah dere
T: Can you get one for me?
FASD: No
T: Do you remember we were just here?
FASD: No. Youah needa ah bahg fo dese
T: Where do I get a fucking bag?
FASD: Iya weel escowt youah outa.
T: Um, what? I have a flight to catch. We are so late.
FASD: Wheh doo youah bowd?
T: What?
FASD: Youah needa ah bahg...
Jenn: Oh my god! Can I get her a bag??
FASD: Yooah cahn't geta bahg
T: Then where do I go?
FASD: Geeve yow tings to hewr and yow fowwow mee
T: What? Give everything to her and go with you?
Tammi piled her bags on top of me and followed the FASD outside of security as I wobbled up to the gate to try stop the plane from boarding without us. The FASD took Tammi to purchase a little plastic baggy for an entire dollar and then escorted her back to the same line and made her take off her shoes and put all her stuff back on the belt, went behind the machine to 'man her position', looked at Tammi and said, in all HER glory, "Sahrwy, we ah closed."
We finally made it onto the plane, sweaty, pissed off, starving, with all of our scary lip gloss in protective sealable plastic bags and carrying a very deadly, pointy, scary terrorist umbrella, and stabby stilettos no questions asked. We popped a couple valium and tried to order some liquor for a pleasantly uneventful flight home.
Stay tuned for my next blog about all the boys in Napa. It will be called: All the boys in Napa "Own Wineries"
Airport Security Douche: These liquids over 3 oz. need to be in a bag
J: They are in a bag
ASD: They need to be in a clear bag
J: They are in a clear bag. (My make-up bag was clear)
ASD: They need to be in a sealable clear bag
J: They are in a sealable clear bag
ASD: You need to go get one of our bags
J: Fine, where do I get that?
ASD: You need to get one
J: Where do I get a bag?
ASD: Yes, you need a bag
J: WHERE DO I GET A FUCKING BAG??
ASD: Outside of security.
At this point I proceeded, barefoot, back through security and got yelled at by every single mentally challenged security officer. YOU CAN'T GO THROUGH HERE! Ok. So I went back to Airport Security Douche-Bag and continued to ask him where to get a DIFFERENT clear bag than what I had. He told me that I had to stand there until he was finished going through it. I casually mentioned that we do have a flight to catch and that we were already running late. I suggested he put everything back in the bag and I would just check it and if he thought it would make it on the flight. He said that maybe it would if I hurried, as he sloooowwwlly put my After Party back into the make-up bag.
So I grabbed the bag and shoved everything back inside as he grabbed it back from me and said he would do it and escort me back out of security. Ok, so I suppose I can see why my anti-frizz gel could be dangerous. Much much more dangerous than earlier mentioned pointy sharp terrorist umbrella, which no one had said anything about yet.
I ran my ass down to the Check-In area again, with Tammi in tow and walked right up to the retard that didn't know how to ship wine. She recognized us because she asked what happened. We told her and asked if the bag would make it on the flight to which she replied, in all her glory, "What flight?"
Let's fast forward again to Security for Round 2...
Tammi and I had put all of our stuff on the same x-ray machine as before. Same people, same line, same Airport Security Douche. Once again..."BAG CHECK!" Oh. My. God. This time they needed to search my purse. They already looked in my purse before. This is what was in my purse: Chapstick, phone, camera, business card holder. That was it.
And they searched Tammi’s purse too, which had already been through as well. They continued to pull out every single tube of lip gloss out of her bag and started in with the bag conversation–again:
Female Airport Security Douche: Youah needa ah bahg fo dese
Tammi: Where do I get a bag?
FASD: Outah dere
T: Can you get one for me?
FASD: No
T: Do you remember we were just here?
FASD: No. Youah needa ah bahg fo dese
T: Where do I get a fucking bag?
FASD: Iya weel escowt youah outa.
T: Um, what? I have a flight to catch. We are so late.
FASD: Wheh doo youah bowd?
T: What?
FASD: Youah needa ah bahg...
Jenn: Oh my god! Can I get her a bag??
FASD: Yooah cahn't geta bahg
T: Then where do I go?
FASD: Geeve yow tings to hewr and yow fowwow mee
T: What? Give everything to her and go with you?
Tammi piled her bags on top of me and followed the FASD outside of security as I wobbled up to the gate to try stop the plane from boarding without us. The FASD took Tammi to purchase a little plastic baggy for an entire dollar and then escorted her back to the same line and made her take off her shoes and put all her stuff back on the belt, went behind the machine to 'man her position', looked at Tammi and said, in all HER glory, "Sahrwy, we ah closed."
We finally made it onto the plane, sweaty, pissed off, starving, with all of our scary lip gloss in protective sealable plastic bags and carrying a very deadly, pointy, scary terrorist umbrella, and stabby stilettos no questions asked. We popped a couple valium and tried to order some liquor for a pleasantly uneventful flight home.
Stay tuned for my next blog about all the boys in Napa. It will be called: All the boys in Napa "Own Wineries"
