My husband and I have just returned from a week-long stay in Jamaica. I’ll be posting pictures and observations about our stay throughout this coming week.
The flight down and back was uneventful and serene. Taking off and flying are a piece of cake after the long lines and aggravations of getting through the check in and the multitude of screenings and humiliations everyone must go through in order to fly in this age of constant tension and threat. I am in my fifties, and my boarding pass was marked with a code, and out of the party of four people I was flying with, I was the one chosen to have my carry-on, shoes, and person searched and patted down before I could begin my journey home. The screeners were professional, but the entire process still felt like an assault, and though my husband says I managed to keep a smile upon my face and remain polite, I DID NOT LIKE BEING PATTED DOWN WHILE OTHER PASSENGERS OBSERVED THE PROCESS AS THEY ENTERED THE PLANE’S BOARDING LANE. Anyway, no harm done, and at least the pat down was on the return trip and not the flight down.
The trip in itself was amazing and perfect, but the process to arrive and depart is a nightmare. I am old enough to remember when flying meant being pampered. Now the airlines act as if they are doing you a favor to let you aboard their aircraft. When my son asked the attendant what kind of beverages they had, her reply to him was, “The same things we had on your flight down.” And there I will rest my case.
