Air Travel Tales: Puerto Rico

Last month, following the attempted bombing of a flight from Amsterdam to Detroit, the TSA rashly came out with some new “security” measures for international flights coming into the U.S. that would supposedly make us all safer when flying (but not really), such as not letting passengers have reading materials or potty breaks during the last hour of a flight.  Reportedly, the TSA planned to treat Puerto Rico as a foreign country for these security measures. I promised to let you know what it was like flying home under the new measures.

In short: It was a non-issue.  I don’t know if they changed their minds about Puerto Rico’s status or about the security measures overall.  But other than being patted down in the security line (which also occurred at my home airport), I didn’t notice anything different–except for the lack of a TV signal for pretty much the entire duration of my flights between JFK and San Juan.  That was explained as an inability to get a signal in that fly zone.  (I wish I’d known that when I booked my flight!)  We were never told we couldn’t have reading material on our laps, or a blanket, or a pillow.

We did hit some (very light) turbulence during the flight home, so the fasten seatbelt sign stayed on for much of the flight. The pilots periodically reminded people to stay seated, but people still got up to use the restroom.  I mean, really, what else were they going to do? Even though the airline tries to prevent your body from making urine by only offering you one snotty little drink on a four hour flight, that’s still a long time to hold it.  I’d rather see someone take their chances on making it to the restroom than pee in the seat next to me.

The airport experience was a little different, though.  When you come back to the States from Puerto Rico, you are required to get your luggage scanned by the USDA before you go through the check-in process or security.  This has nothing to do with the TSA.  It’s standard operating procedure and is apparently to make sure you’re not smuggling pineapples in your carry-on or something.

If you’re facing the Jetblue check-in counter at the San Juan airport, the USDA room is to your right and about 50 feet away.  I dumped my suitcase and backpack onto the conveyor belt like the guy in front of me.  My bags went through an x-ray machine, and when they came out on the other side, the USDA rep slapped an orange sticker on each bag.  It was rather anti-climactic.

My trip to Puerto Rico was more memorable–perhaps because of the anticipation, perhaps because I was paying more attention.  I love flying into cities at night.  There’s just something so beautiful about all the lights shining up out of the darkness, and San Juan was no exception.  I could even see cruise ships in port, all lit up like Christmas decorations.  The wheels touched the runway and as we slowed, headed toward the gate, everyone on the plane erupted in spontaneous applause.  I had read of this phenomenon beforehand, but it still made me smile.  My first Tweet from San Juan (dated 8:33pm January 17) read:

“It’s true.  Everyone claps when the plane lands in San Juan.”

But I should start at the beginning, not the end.

When I arrived at the Burlington Airport on the 17th, there were six to eight TSA agents standing behind the counter in their crisp blue shirts and black slacks, holding cups of coffee and chatting amiably with one another, as they seemed to have nothing else to do. Then I saw why: Jetblue had just one counter agent checking people in, so it was slow going.

The hold-up at check-in didn’t dampen my mood. I was ditching the frozen arctic of Vermont and going to sunny, warm Puerto Rico, baby!  Woohoo!  When it was my turn at the counter, I hefted my purple suitcase up on the ledge to be tagged.  The agent asked, “Where are you going today?”

“Puerto Rico,” I chirped with a big smile on my face.

“Going to Puerto Rico,” he repeated, typing something into the computer.  “Let’s hope the volcano at Montserrat isn’t spewing ash.  We’ve had to cancel some flights to Puerto Rico when that happens.  The planes can’t fly through the ash.”

Pop.  That was the sound of my bubble bursting.  As if I didn’t have enough to worry about with crotch bombers, idiots who try to open airplane doors in mid-flight, and blizzards that ground airplanes for days, now I’ve got to worry about volcanoes spewing ash at me, too?

Over at Security, a female TSA agent waved me over to stand on some footprints on the floor for the pat-down.  This was my first airport pat-down. I’ve had my carry-on hand-searched, I’ve been wanded, and I’ve had my shoes tested for explosives, but I’ve never been patted down before.  It was kind of exciting. I felt like a perp on a cop show.

TSA: “Are there any sensitive areas I should know about?”

Me:  “No, but I am ticklish.”

Not even a smile.  Maybe she’d heard that one before.

The folks at BTV airport might have been party poopers, but the Jetblue flight crew  sure weren’t.  Steve, who conducted the pre-flight safety walk-through, was practicing for his future as a stand-up comedian.  He gets my vote as favorite flight attendant ever.

“If you’re traveling with a small child, first secure your own mask, then help them with theirs.  If you’re traveling with more than one child, pick your favorite, then work your way down the line.”

“If you enjoyed your flight, please remember we are Steve, Cheryl and Karen.  If you did not enjoy your flight, we are Delta, United, and Continental.”

Not the most original jokes, but funnier than the usual tired spiel.

I have to say my airport and flight experiences this trip were much better than some I’ve had in the past.  No canceled or delayed flights, no lost luggage, no being rerouted to another city due to weather.  And no volcanoes spewing ash at my plane.  Now if only something could be done about screaming babies and lost TV signals. . . .