You know how I hate TSA. I hate the inconvenience, the intrusion, the Dollar-store employees with far too much power than sense. I have blogged about it before, and even sold a screenplay about it. That being said, the TSA at BWI seemed to be staffed with fairly friendly people. Any angst-filled tail of woe where I have to take of my shirt while a woman with rubber gloves looked under my man boobs in front of everyone (true story, happened a few years ago at Dulles) will not be mine this trip, and I hope it's the same the trip back. I didn't even have to go through it again in Atlanta, my terminal E didn't require me going through terminal B's TSA. Victory is mine! I have fluids and I am not scared to drink them!
I am at Gate B24, waiting for my connecting flight to New Orleans. My wireless balloon keeps alerting me there is a problem with my wireless connection, then is acquiring the IP address, then flashes to let me know I have "low" signal strength. Over and over. Makes me wish I brought my new USB antenna I got. I will blog you to death to keep me occupied while takayla applies her makeup or reads her book.
Right now, it's very overcast with light rain in Atlanta. Our flight was delayed, but we had such a long layover, it didn't affect us much. We got seats with a middle seat in between us, but some stodgy old man sat there and looked very annoyed at our fatness, although he said nothing. Just texted on his Blackberry, despite the airplane telling him not to via various announcements. Then he made a phone call WHILE we were landing. That's right. He's a rebel. Fifty nine years old and no one tells HIM what to do...
Our plane was supposed to go on to San Diego, but after we pulled up to the gate, they abruptly changed their mind, and a lot of angry people had to get off. The plane. [you're sick...]