Because of that idiot who tried to blow up a plane in Detroit, everyone flying into the US had to endure all sorts of extra regulations this post-holiday weekend. I flew from Winnipeg to Minneapolis on Saturday, and we were advised to arrive at the airport three hours prior to the departure time. So I showed up nice and early.
When I checked in, I was informed that carry-on luggage was not permitted. I had to check both my main bag AND my backpack. At least they let me take out my iPod, cell phone, and computer. If I'd had a purse, I could have taken that, but my purse was in my first suitcase. The one that ended up in Peru. The one that is still MIA.
Customs was quick and painless, and the security checkpoint seemed to go fairly well. I then sat upstairs in the teeny, tiny international terminal. Did I mention that it's teeeeeensy? And full of people. I bought a $3 bottle of root beer and a $17 book, and sat down to entertain myself. For four hours. Because not only did I get through the check points much faster than expected, my flight was delayed.
Once the plane actually arrived, it took over an hour to get everyone on board. They separated the men and women, and everyone had to have a secondary security inspection. This time, though, they physically removed everything from your purse/pockets/computer case and examined it, and gave you a full-body pat-down. Whee.
Finally on the plane, I was informed that I could not have my computer case stowed under the seat. EVERYTHING was to be placed in the overhead bins. We could not have anything under the seats, we could not have blankets or pillows, and, because the flight time was only 54 minutes, we were not allowed to move around the cabin at all.
When we finally arrived in Minneapolis (2 hours late), I had missed my connection. I was given a number to call to get a discounted hotel rate. Not a free hotel, which I would have had if the delay had been mechanical or weather-related. I didn't get my luggage back because it would have been a 3-4 hour wait to get it onto a carousel. At this point, I was only going to have about six hours to sleep, once I got to the hotel and hunted down food (which ended up being a $13 salad), so I decided to sleep in my clothes and get a toothbrush and comb from the front desk. If it hadn't been such a swank hotel, I would have been REAAAAALLY pissed off. As it was, I was kind of irritable.
So what is the moral of this? The idiot who covered his crotch in explosive crap deserves whatever he gets. If you're going to be that stupid, you deserve third-degree burns on those sensitive spots. Plus, you've ruined the days of many, MANY people. Jerk.