I think I mentioned that if one finds it necessary to drive up or down the Rio St.Lawrence in Quebec (pronounced "key-bek"), it's good to know that "est" is short for "east," and "ouest" is "not east" - similar to the Spanish words. Their ancestors had a lot of cross border invasions and inter-marriages in the middle ages, so they have some ligual similarities. {How French words got into the English language is another political story.} Yet, regardless of what you thought you learned in Daddy Bush's war, "sortie" does not mean "flight," so when you see that on a hiway sign, you don't have to worry about planes. "Sortie" means "salina" or "exit."
I zoomed back est towards Montreal's compact international airport, still trying to figure out what Kilometers had to do with miles, making 70-80 mph in a 100 kph area. As I entered the outskirts, I finally determined that if one punches enough of the right buttons, the odomometer magically jumps to kph - and I'm hear to tell you, blending with the traffic will run you way over the suggested speed limit! Had to refuel the red Grand Prix with petro sold in liters, in Canaddidan dollors, so I have no idea what that was exactly, but I turned the car in with the tank full and all the pieces intact. Avis Corp seemed pleased.
I always try to be courteous to the airport, airline, and government employees I encounter as I jump thru the hoops known as the travel system, but I don't encounter many terminal workers, and the airline people are always pretty nice less they get a bad report - especially once Delta agents see my FF-card & status. But then, I'm paying the payrolls of all these people, including the Smokey Bears & Cubs - of any nation I travel to! Ergo, I find it difficult to hold myself in check when I have to put up with rude behavior, incompetence, or inappropriateness.
I arrived at U.S. customs in Montreal at 12n only to learn that they take a 5 minute break every day from 11:50am to 12:20pm to receive worldwide advisories broadcast to them from the Lord High Smokey somewhere, so when I finally cleared that step - the Canadadian equivalents to TSA agents were still enjoying their recreational hour, laughing, joking, grabbing butt - serious anti-terror endeavors. I was the first one to approach a newly reopened luggage screening gate, where the agent swabbed one of my two oversized gear & clothes bags for chemicals - on the outside only, before telling me to put both of them on the belt. So much for my $10 process.
I was held up at the next screening gate for carry-on bags of course, where my most precious Scuba gear is always inspected, and it's always a puzzel to try to guess what these agents will want to confiscate to take home with them? This one took my Cable Ties! Can someone give me a hint why they could justify taking my Cable Ties? They afraid I might secure something, or connect them end to end to make a cable almost as long as the telephone cord for my laptop? Jeez!
And it's all a bluff and a waste. If a bad guy wanted to make a weapon, it'd take less than one minute to use metal fatigue on an aluminum soft drink can to start a skilled tear and fold, creating a point suitable for puncturing any jugliar vein. In that minute, his buddy bad guy could use his 80 cf scuba tank, valve removed per TSA safety rules for carry-on luggage, to batter down a cockpit door. And they took my cable ties?! At least I got to keep my nail clippers, so I could open my peanut bags.
Scheduled a 2-1/2 hour layover in DFw to have dinner with a friend. When I went back thru screening, my lap top went in one tray, my lap top carrier in a second, my boots in a third, my hat in a fourth, my pocket stuff in a fith, and my roll-on with my reg, 2 computers, 2 cameras, etc. First time they didn't inspect it. Actually, I don't think anyone was watching the screen.
Oh, yeah - my pony bottle rode thru in checked luggage. No problems.
Dragged my luggage out to the courtesy shuttle in Lubbock tonight, and the driver loaded the bags for me, as he does for everyone. I was the first to be dropped off, as I have a reserved space just inside the gate, as after he put my bags in my pickup, he said:
"Well, goodnight, Mr.Henderson."
Me, loud enough that the other 10 people could hear: "Don't I always tip you?"[color=blue]
"Yes sir, with a $2 bill."
Loud again: "Okay, here's 2 of them." I hope they heard me; I know that most of them want to conveniently not think of it. But you better believe I always get good service there.
Now, let's see if I can post the group shot - Nine of the Dirty Dozen;
No pictured: Capt Evan, his gorgeous First Mate & Wife Anic, and
BossHoss. 
Attached Images
Edited by DandyDon, 07 September 2004 - 11:32 PM.
