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Pre-Check It Out

11/18/2014

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Sign at the Cape of Good Hope, South Africa
I like to travel with as little hassle as possible so I was delighted when my home airport, San Diego, separated its chaotic drop-off and pick-up lanes and expanded Terminal 2. More space, I thought, easier passage to the gate, less stress. On my first departure from the new facility, however, I soon found myself in an unhappy horde of the harried flowing at a glacial rate into security.

That’s when I first thought seriously about the advantages of getting “TSA pre-check” certified. Gaining this lofty status required an in-person interview at a federal office 45 minutes from home, however, and I kept putting it off. Then, on a later journey, after a 14-hour flight across the Pacific, I missed my half-hour hop from LA to San Diego because—you guessed it—the speed at which we moved through domestic security would have put a tortoise to sleep.
With two holiday trips on the calendar this year, it was time to act. I logged on to the Internet to schedule a pre-check interview, only to learn all appointment times had been taken. My only option was to take my chances as a walk-in.

Steeling myself for a long wait in some bureaucratic maze, toting my iPad, breakfast bars, and coffee mug, I headed for the TSA office in San Diego, prepared to spend the day. Instead, I walked into an empty office, was shown into the interview room, chatted with the friendly woman there, showed my ID, gave my fingerprints, and was on my way in … oh, 15 minutes or so!

But there’s more! Before I left, I was given instructions for tracking the progress of my application via the Internet. A few days later, I logged on to see how thing were going, only to discover I’d been given a number already—unexpectedly in plenty of time to get “pre-checked” on a trip to the east coast.

 Sometimes government actually works. If you travel much, pre-check is $85 well spent.


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Air Rage and Yesteryear

9/30/2014

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The debate over air rage, rages, but missing in many of the screeds I’ve seen is common sense. The extremes range from “Oh, just give it up—we know what we’re getting into when we buy those cheap steerage tickets” (probably written by a short tightwad like me) to “the government should step in and protect us from those grasping, greedy vulture airlines” (most likely the work of a 6-foot tall, 200-pounder).

It does seem a bit strange that a government so obsessed with our personal safety that they require child-proof caps on meds and seat belts in all manner of transport is willing to let the airlines pack us into aircraft and hurtle us through the skies like so much expedited cargo. At what point does the issue become not just comfort, but safety? Maintaining calm is tough enough in an emergency no matter how well situated we are, but in a crammed, movement-constricting space? Doesn’t feel all that safe to me.

The airlines have forgotten they’re a service industry. Service is their “product,” so to speak—and for many years service was what they provided. You purchased a ticket and knew before you clicked off (or before you hung up in the early days) exactly what you were getting. Checked luggage was a given, your preference in seating assured if you reserved early enough, a meal (such as it was) provided if the flight exceeded a certain length, a boarding pass printed at the airport, a reasonable amount of legroom.

The way they operate now, it’s sort of like buying a car and having the salesman ask you “Oh, say, did you want a trunk with that? … Yes? … Well, that’ll be another $500.”

First we heard stories about berserk flight attendants, then passengers resorting to self-protection with the infamous knee defenders, followed by skirmishes over the god-given right to tilt. It’s no wonder the attendants are so stressed. The job that used to revolve around serving meals and warming baby bottles now requires the muscles of a weight lifter to help us load those hefty bags into the overhead and the skills of a hostage negotiator to prevent the outbreak of fisticuffs.

Gone are the days when, delayed by a late flight into L.A. and resigned to missing our connecting flight, we were greeted upon deplaning by an airline employee holding a sign bearing our name and waiting to escort us to our departing flight, held just for us! Talk about feeling important! Ah, yesteryear!



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