Lord of the Wings Book One

I went out of town for a few days this past week, which marked the first time I’d been on a plane since about a week prior to 9/11.

It wasn’t fear of terrorism that kept me away from air travel. Okay, maybe I was a little concerned for that first year about being strapped into a guided missle aimed at the Sears Tower. But after that, it was work and life that kept me away.

The O’Hare Airport I walked into a few days ago was radically different from the one I remember from six years ago. The first thing I noticed was that access to the innards of the airport was completely cut off by security screening. Six years ago, you could get a neck massager, a copy of “Oui,” and a cinammon scone from the concourse long before you even considered de-shoeing.

The security screening line looked like something out of a third world country. The beaten-down faces and body language of the people trolling through the line more resembled a village of sickly natives waiting for an immunization than cross-continental thrill-seekers.

I went through the brief indignity of rolling my Converses on the track and sharing my preferred brands of three ounce toiletries with the TSA staff on-duty. 40 minutes from the end of the line to unfettered concourse access. Not bad.

To be continued…

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