Family Life

You know, this trip is really starting to develop a theme. By the time you read through this post you’ll see what I mean. If you’re new to the blog you can catch up on the story so far in part 1 and part 2.

The last couple of days have been intense, busy, long, tiring. Fun too, and exciting. Yesterday afternoon I left the show and made the long drive across LA to stay the night with my relatives. It was good to catch up with them, to play with my nieces. Relaxing and peaceful after the din of the trade show. We’d stayed there a year ago while on holiday, and it brought back good memories.

This morning we were up early (at 6:30, can you believe it?) to get ready for the first service at Grace Community Church, at 8:30. It pays to get up early when getting small children ready to go out, and, as I found out, it pays to arrive early in order to find parking. We ended up parked half a block from the church, almost miraculously close according to my hosts. The 3,000-seat main sanctuary was packed to capacity.

John MacArthur preached on the two disciples going to find and prepare the upper room for Jesus’ last Passover supper, from Luke 22:7-13. A cloak-and-dagger story (with no actual daggers), shrouded in secrecy, so the authorities wouldn’t know where Jesus was. Thus, they couldn’t arrest him before the right time. They were out to get him, but Jesus was in control of the whole unfolding situation.

It was a good message, good singing, a good service. I left as soon as it was over, at about 10, to drive to the airport. A quick trip, with light traffic on a Sunday morning. I had plenty of time, or so I thought.

LAX is a nightmare.

The rental car shuttle dropped me off at the United terminal. The check-in area was packed to capacity, long lines snaking all around the space, standing room only. There were 38 self-serve check-in kiosks, and about four airline staff to handle baggage and help travelers with their questions. I found the right line and inched along until I got to a kiosk. I went through all the questions on the touch screen, and the kiosk spat out a boarding pass at the end. Pretty standard. Except that the boarding pass only had the words “see a United agent” printed on it.

Great.

It was crowded. It was noisy. The nearest agent (and there were only four) seemed half a mile away. There was a phone handset on the kiosk and I picked it up. I explained the situation and was told to wait there. Someone would come to sort me out. So I waited. For twenty minutes. Eventually an agent wandered over to talk to me. No, they couldn’t help me, but they’d get someone who could. They left. Time passed. Someone else came over. No help either. A third agent. Nope. Finally someone new strode up to my kiosk, apologized for keeping me waiting, tapped on his keyboard, handed me a boarding pass (a real one, this time) and took my luggage.

I shuffled over to the TSA security line and inched along. That line eventually split into three, and I was directed to the shortest line. Fine, except that my line moved at half the speed of the other lines. Seriously. I counted. The other lines managed two people for every one that my line advanced.

The next line was to the carry-on bag inspection, where you take your shoes off. That line crept ahead, and when I was about halfway along someone came and split the line into two. Guess which line I ended up in? You got it–the slow line! When at last I made it to the X-ray conveyor they’d run out of bins to put your stuff in. By now it was five minutes past the boarding time for my flight, and I was getting a little impatient. I’d arrived with two hours to spare and thought I had plenty of time. Apparently not.

I reached over a partition and grabbed a stack of empty bins and pulled them over to where we were supposed to empty our pockets, all the while wondering if I was going to get shot for my audacity. But things went quickly and smoothly from there. Through inspection, shoes back on, up the stairs, hurrying down the concourse to my gate, and on to the plane. No problem. I wasn’t late. Just in time to sit there for almost an hour while they sorted out something or other. Eventually we made it off the ground, on our way to Denver.

I had a connecting flight to catch in Denver, scheduled to leave an hour after the scheduled arrival of my LA flight. When I originally made the booking I thought that would be enough time. Ha!

Somehow we made up some time en-route (or my itinerary wasn’t terribly accurate), and arrived only half an hour later than expected. So I hurried down the concourse, took the train to the next terminal, and hurried all the way to the end of that concourse to get to my gate. By now I was tired, thirsty, hungry, and I needed to go to the bathroom. It was late afternoon, and I’d had breakfast (and visited the bathroom) at about 7 in the morning. Everybody was lined up at the gate ready to board. I didn’t hold out much hope for a meal, but at least I hadn’t missed my flight. After a few seconds, I realized people were just standing in line. They weren’t actually boarding. So I dared a quick trip to the bathroom, and then an even more daring trip back up the concourse to a McDonald’s I had noticed.

I sat on the floor beside the line at the gate and ate my lunch. The line started to move as I was finishing my food, and I boarded the plane grateful that all my bodily needs had been met. The flight was relatively empty and I had three seats to myself, once again filled with gratitude for the opportunity to relax in peace and comfort. What a trip.

It was almost midnight when we landed. I stood by the luggage carousel waiting for my suitcase, dozing on my feet. Eventually I realized that no one was left around me, the carousel was empty, and I still didn’t have my bag. Sigh! I trudged down to the service counter. They called the baggage handlers on the ramp. No, there were no more bags from that flight.

The airline had lost my luggage.

Another twenty minutes went by as I filled out the forms and explained the situation to customs. Finally I was free to walk out and catch the shuttle home. I was in bed by 1:30am, glad to be home, just wanting to sleep.

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