Off to the airport for a holiday excursion. Made me recall certain aspects of travel, weird, unconnected pieces.
The old Austin airport, when it was way north of the river, the way they’d bring in Round Rock Donuts, the yellow, cake-like pastry that is uniquely “Austin,” although, consider that the original location was Round Rock, north of Austin, and Williamson County, not really “Austin.”
That old Austin airport is now a “mixed-use development,” which isn’t too bad. I’m mixed about my opinion.
The “new” Austin airport, voted best use of a closed Air Force Base, last morning I was there, it was Lone Star donuts, not Round Rock, and there were only a few left.
After abruptly relocating to San Antonio, I’ve only flown through Austin — maybe — one time.
The sad lament of a baggage handler who greeted me by name, I do miss that from Austin. Passing through security in San Antonio, though, I had one of the quick-pass-through tickets, and the TSA line agent told me to leave my shoes on.
Boots. Handmade in El Paso, TX. First I was told to leave my shoes on, then, after I set off the buzzer, it beeped at me, he said it was the shoes, “It’s those boots.”
Pretty sure they have metal plate in them. Yes, they should set off a metal detector.
I stepped back through the metal detector, pulled my my boots off, stuck them on the conveyor belt, and walked through.
“Nice boots, what size are they?”
He grinned, and for a single moment there was that space where humor was again legal.
One of the busiest holiday travel times, ever. I hit the DAL (Dallas Love Field) security gate, “I better take my boots off, they set off the detector every time.”
“No man, leave them on.”
“No worries, wasn’t the boots, you were just randomly selected.”
Right. Wasn’t the boots.
The belt? That was carefully chosen to be “metal detector friendly.” No, seriously.
Omnia Explorate, Meliore Retinete