I write this entry sitting on board an United Airlines domestic flight to New York, LGA, while my $20 imitation North Face duffel bag sits somewhere in the Chicago O'Hare airport waiting to board the next available flight to New York. How did this happen, and why would American air transport rules allow a passenger and his luggage to travel on different planes?
For the second question I can only shrug, and mention that might it not be possible for a time-bomb to go undetected in a check-in bag and detonated on a different flight as the terrorist? Heck, suicide bombing will be passe if this catches on.
As to why it happened in the first place? It all started with me asking for directions to the airport from the asian lady behind the hostel's reception desk. All I managed to understand from her chupsomebonk accent was that I should go west of Congress to La Salle station and take the blue line. Blue line, I thought, I know for sure how to get to Jackson station and it's also on the blue line, so I made my way there, only to find that Jackson's closed for the weekend for upgrading. Closed, on a weekend?! Why don't they work in the middle of the night like considerate Chinese and Singaporean construction firms; it's dark in the tunnels anyway.
What followed next was 30 mins of me walking haphazardly asking for directions to La Salle station and realising that there are 3 Lasalle stations; one serving the purple/brown/orange lines, one some sort of rail station, and the last serving the blue line. With a tip of the hat to ol Murphey, I paid a visit to the other 2 stations before finally arriving at the correct station, and hauling both me, and my duffel bag on board the train to O'Hare.
I settled down with Shadow of the Hegemon and was minding my own business reading when the train operator announced that the track between some station and some station is closed, and that we should alight at the next station to transfer to a shuttle that would take us two stations down towards O'Hare. Fantastic, more upgrading. So, off the train, to the shuttle, to another station, and back on the train towards the airport; 30 mins worth of traveling time.
Finally, we're at the airport(I used "we" purely to avoid soundly like some lonesome soul) and I brisked walked to Terminal one, half appreciating the soothing vocals of a black busker while wondering why he was even allowed to busk in the airport. Maybe it's because of the crumpled handwritten "God Bless You" sign he has with him. Terminal 1, United airlines check in desk with probably 50 people ahead of me in line. Awesome. Joined the queue, made my way to the front, found out it was too late to check in, put my luggage and myself on waiting list for the next flight, and left with a confirmation ticket.
Confirmation ticket in hand, I went through security where like in Heathrow, I had to remove shoes and belt, and found myself at gate B9 where my flight was boarding. Presented the confrimation ticket to the staff and got in exchange a boarding pass for that flight. What of my luggage, I asked, and was told that it would be on the next flight out.
Still with me? I'm bored on the plane after finishing my book. I need to get the next one, and probably end up returning to Singapore with 10 books. Getting sleepy, think I'll watch some bleach while the flight attendant walks down the aisle repeating "Seatbelts" at the rate of once every 4 seconds.
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