
There was no one allowing First Class and Elite members through the "special" line, and after having a group of 18 Asians cut in front of me, I had it. So when the line finally opened for First Class, I got yelled at by the agent. I told her that no one was working that line. She checked my ID and ticket and allowed me to stand in that line.
Then we heard that the TSA only had two checkpoints open. Again, what were they thinking? So when an agent came up and told the TSA agent to allow NWA passengers up because our flight was close to boarding, she finally started letting people up, but that's when pandemonium broke loose. The lady let a rope down and now everyone was pushing their way forward.
Honestly, I don't mean this in any comical way, but I seriously can understand how people must have felt trying to get out of Saigon or towards lifeboats if a ship were sinking. I knew there were other flights if I missed this one, but the masses of people pushing on me was scary.
Finally I was allowed up, and at the top of the escalator, they asked if we were part of a group whose flight left before mine. I just said yes so that I could get through one of the security checkpoints.
As it turns out, I made it to my gate with 5 minutes to spare before they started boarding my flight. If I hadn't done what I did, I would have missed my flight. I even tolerated the two women behind me in First Class who talked and drank wine all night long.
And for my Dad, I told you that you are not supposed to joke around at airports anymore. See...


On one flight, I sat next to a drunk guy with poor eyesight, so I had to read his ticket for him and open his cheese from his snack tray. Yesterday, the drunk guy two seats over spilled his entire (third) beer, so I was lucky I didn't sit next or behind him. But as Karma works out, the flight attendant spilled coffee on my shorts. You can't win sometimes.
Time on the beach: priceless. 
Hopefully in two weeks when I go back to California, I'll be able to check out Nemo. In the meantime, Dory will remind me that I will have forgotten that I wasn't able to ride the new ride.
I don't know about you, but there's something disturbing to be reading that sign while you're sitting down in a room where you'd prefer not to have the door shut, especially after having dinner at that Mexican restaurant in Old Town.


For 50 minutes we bumped, rocked, rolled and pitched all over the place. By the time we landed on Terra Firma, I just about kissed it. I didn't even mind the more-than-usually rude and lazy Customs and TSA people. Yep. I'm back in the good ol' US of A, but at least in one piece.

