A few years ago I was returning from the States to NZ and was leaving via LAX. Arriving with my fellow work mates in plenty of time we had to put our bags through a 'pre-vetting' system prior to putting them through the normal baggage check-in. This was leaving the country remember. The procedure seemed to take forever and was apparently random. My colleagues got their luggage through in a mere half an hour. Mine seemed to have been held up (more later). A massively overweight woman officer was rummaging through a large suitcase on the conveyer belt after it had been through the x-ray machine. She had pulled out clothes and personal items galore and was staring at a delicate looking Lladro ornament that had been (previously) carefully wrapped in paper, bubble wrap and clothing. Perhaps on the x-ray she thought it was a RPG launcher. She was stuffing everything back in the bag carelessly and looked as if she was going to crush it down (probably by sitting on the lid). An elderly woman whose bag it was was visibly upset at the procedure so I said to the slobby overweight woman (SOW) "be careful, that looks delicate"
SOW: What was that you said Sir?
ME: I said be careful that vase looks delicate. You are upsetting the owner here.
SOW: Is this your bag sir?
ME: (having now spotted my bag that had obviously been processed earlier and SOW hadn't put it properly on the conveyer belt - it was on the floor behind her). No. That's my bag behind you.
SOW: That bag sir?
ME: Yes that bag that has already passed inspection. I have to get it to Air NZ baggage (about 10 metres away) as the flight is leaving soon.
SOW: Can you identify the bag sir?
ME: (stepping closer to point out the bag) Yes. That one there. It has my name on it.
SOW: (fingering the butt of the gun on her hip). Step away from the line sir.
ME: (toes over the big line painted around the 'search' area). Please hurry. I don't want to miss my plane.
SOW: I will need to check that again Sir. That's why I put it there.
ME: Rubbish. I want to talk to a supervisor.
SOW: (Cold glare directed at me. Obviously wanting to blow me away). Just one minute sir.
She disappeared out back for what seemed to be ages - probably having a coffee. Eventually she returned and a supervisor in a black suit, not a uniform came out.
SUIT: How can I be of assistance sir?
The Americans can make 'Sir' in an otherwise polite question, sound like an insult.
ME: My bag over there has been checked and I need to get it to Air NZ baggage check in. Your officer seems unwilling to comply.
SUIT: I've spoken with Officer (SOW). There seems to be a communication problem.
ME: Probably language, I speak English.
SUIT: Cold glare (I assume as he was wearing dark glasses). Please wait there.
Suit and SOW went away for a pow-wow. SOW kept glancing over to me probably hoping that I would 'make her day' by running amok or something so she could gun me down. As for me I idly wished I had my trusty H&K with me - three quick taps - one in the belly, one in the chest and for good measure, one between the eyes......
SUIT: Sir? Sir?
ME: Sorry, I was miles away.
SUIT: Please take your bag to baggage control Sir. Have a nice day.
ME: Oh, gosh, thanks, great. See you.
Not knowing what 'baggage control' was and wanting to get the hell out of there I whisked my bag up and over to the Air NZ bag check-in with minutes to spare. I ran out and up to the main concourse (noticing a pathetic sight of an elderly couple trying to repack a large suitcase - underwear and toiletries scattered around them on the floor). I got to the Business Class lounge just as the final boarding call was made. My colleagues pissed themselves laughing as I told them why I was late. They had been stuffing themselves with Champagne and canapés all the while. Bastards.
God Bless America (or something).
3 comments:
The arrogance!!!
Maybe the fat lady has had a heart attack by now while eating a burger. Maybe, as she wriggled in pain, the gun got lodged up her fat arse.
All credit to Curmudgeon. I had to read it several times though to get the full story.
Great Post.
I also hate LAX, but not much choice. My AMerican friends also seem to hat LAX, so maybe it's atypical.
Minor functionaries everywhere seem to love to use their powers. Almost Kafkaesque.
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