Because I Would Love to See Chesterton Try to Fit Through a Metal Detector

I love airports. Or, maybe I should say, I'm learning to love airports. So this is our epic struggle to return to the Left Coast of America:

We showed up at the airport in New York City just to have the power go out while we were waiting in line to check in. All of modern society ground to a halt while we stood around, picking our noses, waiting for the grand masters of electricity to rise the slumbering energy giant back onto his feet. By the time the power went back on all of those poor souls whose planes were about to pull away from the gate needed to be rushed to the front of the line, so still we waited, and played the alphabet game. Meanwhile, the lights kept flickering on and off, causing the entire populous to shriek and moan in terror each time it did so.

By the time we made it to the front of the line we were told that our plane had been delayed so much that we had already missed our connection in Chicago, and that they were going to try some way to get us to California--at least somewhere in California because everything's pretty close together, right?--by tonight, or really early tomorrow. So the best chance we had was to fly to Washington D.C. and then fly into LA, landing just after midnight. We had actually started our journey at Orange County airport, so this would be a slight detour. But everything's pretty close together, right?

So we proceeded to strip search through security, then spend $15 on a salad to share for a family of four for dinner--we had to pay 59 cents extra for the salad dressing. We caught our plane with no trouble, and thankfully arrived in Washington D.C. at the same gate we would be leaving on, and within easy walking distance to beer.

Our connecting flight went smoothly and we landed at LAX just after midnight. We got our bags by 12:30 or so and waited for our ride. Then we quickly discovered that our ride assumed that we were still flying into Orange County, and was at the wrong airport. Once that problem had been remedied we were picked up around 1:30 am (remember we're travelling with a 3-year-old and a 2-year-old), and cozied up in bed by 2:00 am. We had gotten up that morning at 7:00 am New York time which meant that we had been up for 22 hours straight.

Now, in case you can't tell, this is why I love airports. I strongly recommend to anyone getting ready to fly that they read large portions of G.K. Chesterton before they do so. There is no one who can get you laughing and loving human nature like he does. I love the computer-automated check-ins, I love the fancy television screens with rotating advertising, I love that they strip-search my 3-year-old for terrorist weapons, I love that with all the fancy show and expensive technology nobody can change human nature. When the power goes out people still scream. When people have to wait in line they whine and moan, and try to cut. When people are told to form a straight line, they push and shove.

I love airports. And I'm not being sarcastic. Well, not completely sarcastic.