FEAR OF CHECKING IN

I’m in Nashville. It’s a great city and I would come here again, for vacation. I’m surprised at how much it has to offer. But, since I’m very uncomfortable when I am not complaining, I’ll move on and tell you about my trip down or out or over or whatever.
I have no fear of flying, but I have a tremendous fear of checking in at the airport. For starters, I’m so afraid that I’ll forget my drivers license that I check my wallet about every fifteen minutes to make sure that it hasn’t gone anywhere.
But there’s a lot more that frightens me and I think the airlines are to blame for that. This trip is the worst yet from that aspect, because as soon as I got in the ticket line at the airport, some nice lady from Delta told me that I had to use one of their computer kiosks to get my boarding pass. I know that doesn’t sound so bad, but it gets worse. As I’m entering the information, I’m asked if I’m checking in luggage. I push a button to show I am checking one bag. Then this computer has the audacity to tell me I have to pay it twenty bucks. “Twenty bucks,” I scream to no one in particular, but that nice lady comes over and explains that even one bag costs extra.
“How about the use of the restroom?” I ask.
“Well, you can pay five dollars a visit, or fifteen dollars for unlimited use,” she explains.
“Suppose I don’t pay, but then I get on the plane and I have to go?”
“It’s six dollars at the door,” she tells me.
I decide to forego the restroom, and proceed to finish up the computer stuff and get my ticket. I’m afraid I’ll be asked if I was interested in paying for a seat on the plane, but happily, that’s still included in the airfare. Although they were measuring passengers’ derrieres to see if we needed to pay additionally for being over endowed.
Next I go to security to get screened and analyzed in order to get to the gate. There are two signs. One tells me that the security threat is high. They tell me it’s orange, but there’s no orange light or anything. Why just call it a color if you’re not going to show me the color?
Then there’s another sign warning me to be on guard for anyone who looks like they have swine flu. I listen for any oinking sounds. Then I get to the check in person and I’m asked if I have any flu-like symptoms.
“I’m surprised you didn’t ask me about hemorrhoids,” I say in my typically very hilarious manner.
“Wait until you get to the next guard,” the woman tells me. “We won’t need to ask.”
Ouch
I swear within a year airport check in will be a totally nude procedure. Maybe then I’ll qualify for some sort of discount.
I finally get on the plane. I’m still fuming over the baggage charge, so when the flight attendant is handing another passenger a hot drink, I try and tip her arm. I’m figuring if she scalds me, I can ask for my twenty back. She doesn’t. But she does give me a bag of peanuts. Now I know how they’re spending that twenty. No, not for the eight peanuts in the bag, but for the spaceage material that houses the peanuts. I break three teeth just trying to rip it open.
Anyway, to make a long story a little longer, I finally get to Nashville. As I said, it’s a great city. I’ll tell you more later, but I just wanted to share.