I flew back to Mobile yesterday, after spending a week for spring break at home in North Cackolackie. Unlike my last airplane photo diary, the stories contained within this diary are sad, depressing, and totally unsurprising. In other words, I have recreated CNN.
Jump the Soros Squiggle for my Charlotte to Mobile adventures. My rant about the TSA and what they did to my bag is at the very bottom, if that's why you clicked in (but I encourage you to read through the whole diary).
We stayed at a nightmarish hotel in Charlotte Saturday night, in order to get a jump start on getting to the airport so we didn't have to rush. Between all the hookers and druggies coming in and out of the rooms around us, the people randomly banging on our door, and a group of bikers deciding to leave the hotel after actually looking at it, it's amazing we made it to the airport alive at all.
Running on about two hours of sleep, my mom and I parked on the top of the arrivals parking garage at Charlotte Douglas International Airport, situated due west of downtown. Our spot was perfect for a shutterbug like myself -- lined up with a prime view of the tarmac at Concourse E, both the air and ground control towers, planes departing from Runway 18C, and landing on Runways 18R and 23.
Clouds.
The first thing I noticed was the strange cloud deck hanging overhead, which was low enough to make you want to reach out and try to touch it. It was just as cool from the ground as it was from the air, but I'll get to that in a minute.
Like freshly fallen snow...only it's not snow, it's suspended in the air, and didn't snarl traffic for 150 miles.
I got in the airport and loitered for a while with my mom to burn off time before I had to be at the gate. When it got close to boarding time, I went through security (didn't get the Cheney treatment!) and made the long, stuffy walk through the terminal.
Stupidity.
The cool thing about Charlotte airport is that it's freaking HUGE, and its enormity requires a people mover called the moving walkway. If you've been to any number of major airports in the US or Europe, you've seen or ridden on one of these. It's like the conveyor belt at the grocery store, but it's on the floor and carries less healthy things to its destination.
Hint: Don't daydream and fall flat on your face when the walkway ends. We will laugh at and step over you accordingly.
The rules of the walkway are simple -- stand to the right, walk to the left. Simple is a funny word in that someone, someone, will find a way to complicate it beyond comprehension. I was almost at my gate, and on the last walkway, when I had the incident.
Some lady decided to walk rather briskly for the first half of the walkway, and I kept up behind her pretty well. During the second half, she decided to stop short. I ran into her and she dramatically leaned over into the railing. I said "Oops, sorry." and kept going. She gave me the look of death. If you're going to be an airhead and stop dead with people behind you, use your brain (there's your problem!) and stand to the right. If you decide to be an idiot and stop short (for no reason) in the middle of the walkway, don't act surprised when you get bowled over by a fat college kid, mmkay? Mmkay.
Arrogance.
I get to my gate after buying a bottle of water and a little packet of Motrin ([no sleep + allergies] * stupid people = headache), and manage to find a seat in the vast expanses of the end of the airport. When I say the end of the airport, I'm not exaggerating. The flight to Mobile always winds up at the very end of the concourse, in the very last gate at the airport -- E38A. Well, I lie. There's an E38B but the other flight got delayed so we got a deluxe upgrade.
The bowels of the airport, now with fancy LED boards.
Anywho, I digress. As I sit there and watch the creepy people walk by, a flustered man approaches the desk. Judging by his hand gestures and out-of-breathedness, he missed his flight. He starts talking loudly enough for me to hear. He did miss his flight, and he did have the balls to demand that the attendant call the plane back to the gate to let him on.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. HAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!! HAHAHA! Hoooooo. HAHAH! Wowzer. Hahahaha. Yeah...no.
I didn't hear the lady's response, but I'm sure it went something like this: "Sir, we apologize profusely that your likeness could not grace the confines of our premium Canadair Regional Jet this afternoon. Let me personally contact the pilot and let him know what valuable cargo he left behind in this fine city." It would be a damn shame if that wasn't verbatim.
Coincidence.
Charlotte's Concourse E is extremely busy, because it's where all the regional planes come to unload and pick up their valuable customers. It has 50 gates that service two types of planes, mostly -- CRJs and DeHavilland Dash 8s.
CRJs are the little jets that hold 50-75 people, depending on the model. The one that goes from Charlotte to Mobile and back is the CRJ-200. It holds 50 people and is one of the most popular regional jets in the country.
A CRJ-200 fresh in from Bumblefuck, Republicanstan in Concourse E.
The other type of plane that is common for short regional flights is the DeHavilland Dash-8-300. It has 50 seats, with high wings and a propeller engine attached to each. These planes scare the hell out of me. I have had bad experiences on them, and go out of my way not to fly on them. This DeHavilland Dash 8 pulled up to the gate next to mine, fresh in from Asheville, NC.
I remember taking the picture thinking "that's a really bold tail number." On the other planes, the registration number (towards the back of the plane) doesn't stand out as much as it does on this one. I didn't think anything of it until I got back to my dorm. After I uploaded two videos (seen further down), I started browsing through related videos. One of them was from when a Dash 8 made an emergency landing at Greensboro International Airport in North Carolina. I watched the video, and clicked the associated news link.
Here's the video from WXII. If you don't want to watch the whole video, skip to 36 seconds. See the tail of the plane, and its registration number?
N335EN.
I stopped dead and thought "Why do I know that tail number?" I looked back through my pictures, and literally gasped. Look at the picture of the Dash 8 I took at the gate. Look at its tail number.
N335EN.
What are the odds that I'd take a picture of an airplane this afternoon, then come home tonight and randomly find a video of that very same plane making an emergency landing 3 years ago because of engine trouble? Yikes.
Flight.
The flight was uneventful. The plane capable of 50 only held 30, so I had the whole row to myself. It was quite nice cruising at 32,000 feet with my iPod on full volume, without getting crammed into the side of the plane by a man as large as myself coming home from the Bratwurst festival. Once they turned off the "No Electronics" sign, I whipped out the camera and recorded our ascent from the top of the cloud deck.
You don't realize how fast you're going until you're speeding through the clouds like legislation defunding libruls.
Regarding my "more on that later" comment on the cool cloud deck over the airport...here's what it looked like from above:
Even Ceiling Cat can't resist sneaking a taste of the frosting.
There wasn't anything really photogenic during the flight itself (too high up), but I found some stuff, at least...
There's a self portrait next on the memory card after this pic. You're lucky I didn't post it.
With the prices you charge, that winglet better be in my damn suitcase as a souvenir when this is over.
TSA Hell
So, I wrote this diary last night around 900PM, and I planned on posting it this morning. I hadn't unpacked yet when I wrote this diary, so I thought everything was all hunky-dory. Nope. I opened my bag last night and found a lovely note from the TSA. If you travel often, you've probably gotten one.
Transportation Security Administration
----------------------------
NOTICE OF BAGGAGE INSPECTION
----------------------------
To protect you and your fellow passengers, the Transportation security Administration (TSA) is required by law to inspect all checked baggage. As part of this process, some bags are opened and physically inspected. Your bag was among those selected for physical inspection.
During the inspection, your bag and its contents may have been searched for prohibited items. At the completion of the inspection, the contents were returned to your bag.
If the TSA security officer was unable to open your bag for inspection because it was locked, the officer may have been forced to break the locks on your bag. TSA sincerely regrets having to do this, however TSA is not liable for damage to your locks resulting from this necessary security precaution.
For packing tips and suggestions on how to secure your baggage during your next trip, please visit:
www.tsa.gov
We appreciate your understanding and cooperation. If you have questions, comments, or concerns, please feel free to contact the TSA Contact Center.
So I get that and go "oh here we go." I had everything all nice and neatly packed -- it was the best packing job I've ever done for traveling by air.
See, ain't it purdy? Take note of two things, 1) The blue electric razor and 2)the orange bottle in the plastic bag. The first thing I noticed when I looked through the bag is that the orange bottle (suntan lotion) was laying out freely among my clothes. It leaked on one of my shirts. That's why I put it in a fucking bag, you idiots. The other thing was my blue electric razor. I had it to where it wouldn't move around in the bag, and where did I find it last night? At the bottom of the bag, razor screen ripped and the lid was snapped in half.
The other thing I noticed was that two pairs of socks were missing. Well, half missing. I lay my socks flat in my suitcase to make more room, and I had exactly 9 pairs of socks when I packed my bag on Saturday. Last night when I opened it up, I had 7 pairs of socks, and two pairs were missing a sock. I looked through all of my belongings and they aren't there.
Yeah. That's what I get for waiting to open my bag. If they're going to rip everything apart in the name of national security, at least put it back the way it was.
The TSA owes me an electric razor, a new shirt, and two pairs of socks.
I called and got a series of voicemails and automated answering system dead ends. They don't want to get me upset -- I'll call every news organization and Congressperson I can to get my belongings replaced. The device I use to remove my fucking facial hair is not a matter of national security.
That was it for the adventure on Sunday. Arrogance, coincidences and the damn TSA pretty much covers it. If you're traveling to Charlotte for the Democratic National Convention next year, don't hesitate to do so. You'll travel in (relative) comfort and get some nice scenery, as well. Just don't check your bag, if you can help it.
I'd better get royalites for this little advertisement, you luggage-mangling freaks.
Update:
(The update button isn't working...off to report that to the DK4overlords)
I just got off the phone with the TSA guy at Charlotte, and they're going to search through the cameras to see what happened. They'll be able to tell me if it was broken on site, or if they way they packed it was the reason it was broken.
He said the cameras are "all telling." I hope so...I can't use a cracked razor.
Updated by weatherdude at Mon Mar 21, 2011 at 08:17 PM EDT
Testing the update button. Don't mind me.