The Tomaso Files: More Blind Travel Escapades

Two Space Age Whiz Kid Coyboys’. (The Tomaso Collection)

 

Ran into Sasquatch’s cousin, Not Me! Resplendent in Seahawks colours, before making the Patriots Black ‘n Blue! Now if only the Space Age Fuel Depot had been off of Exit 51 instead of 52, Oh Never Mind!

 

“Just a song before I go
To whom it may concern
Traveling twice the speed of sound It's easy to get burned”

 

I’m always amazed at the Universe’s synchronicity. Since the day I was packing for my trek to thee Valley of the Sun. Turning on the local Old fogey’s radio station, Crosby, Stills and Nash’s Just A Song Before I go started playing on my ancient transistor radio…

 

VIDEO: Just A song before I go

 

Whilst its funny how I was madly type-type-typing away on various, riveting No fenders Blog stories like this 12 Hours before departing.

 

Yeah, I chose the number 12 on purpose. And not because of the Seahawks 12‘s, but for DJ WillyP’. Say What! He doesn’t drive the No. 12 anymore?

 

Have I mentioned that I spent half of February traveling to Warshington’ and Arizona lately, Yall? Meaning that my No Fenders posts will be a Wee Bitamyte’ sporadic and somewhat dated. Since as typical, I’ll be busy playin’ Ketsup on Ye Blob’, just Sayin’. And having caught my first cold in several years isn’t helping matter either. Since isn’t that what vacations are for?

 

Thy trip started off swimmingly, since Southwest Airlines didn’t send the “Memo” (email) until 15mins after my Taxi driver had called to say He’d left Eugene. Informing me that my flight had been delayed by two hours, Crap!

 

And then my Cabbie’ called again warning me He’d most likely be somewhat late since it was snowing really good at the “Pass”, albeit the Ralph A. Petersen tunnel’s elevation is a whopping 990 feet MSL. (Mean Sea Level) With Cougar Pass being situated at some 715 feet. Which for Mwah, a former Warshingtonion Skier isn’t exactly what I call Mountainous! But I digress…

 

Naturally, we’d be having our very first day of snow the morning I was trying to travel to the warmer climes of Arizona, Ya Sure Yuh Betcha!

 

And although the snow had stopped, the sky brightened and the road was virtually dry. With the exception of the overhead trees dripping, making the windshield wipers scratch in protest. After we’d passed a Fed Ex “Box” truck in a ditch, and I mused out loud those packages will be late! Traffic came to a complete halt on Highway 126 and we sat still for 15mins. Before traffic moved again and we passed a further two deliver Box-trucks off the road, with another in a ditch…

 

Standing in the check-in line and waiting for assistance. Melissa, a TSA employee said She’d take me to my gate since She wasn’t busy at the moment. Telling me things were a bit slow that morning.

 

Huh? I’ve never had my own, personal TSA escort agent before. Informing Her of my mechanical Heart valve, we suddenly went down a long hallway into a private “screening” room where She said Her co-worker George would pat me down.

 

Melissa mentioned George was one of Her good friends, and as He was explaining how His hand would go over my buttocks and groin area I couldn’t resist. And said George and I are going to be “Good” Friends too, Hya!

 

Although this TSA Airport screening “Pat-down” wasn’t any worse than last year’s in Arizona…

 

The Perks of being A Blind Traveler

 

Seated at my gate, a further announcement was silently made, as a friendly woman in a wheelchair said they’d just texted Her saying our flight wouldn’t depart now until 3:37PM; a further hour and twenty minutes plus, and three an one quarter hours later than originally slated, Urgh!

 

Reportedly the weather in Denver, with winds Ah-Blowin’ Almighty was causing all of the delays. But what became mondo annoying was the departure time kept playing Whack-ah-Mole! Since after a kind Airport employee had escorted me to the bathroom and we returned to the gate at 2:06PM. The gate agent said we’re boarding now!

 

And then we sat on the tarmac forever before finally departing for Denver.

 

Funniest bit for Mwah was riding in a golf cart to my connecting flight’s gate. As it still blows my mind there’s no direct flights from Eugene to Phoenix, Ack!

 

As we slowly made our way through the concourse, Tom Petty’s I’m Free, Free Falling wailed upon the concourse’s speakers. Which I mused to myself they shouldn’t be playing that song in an airport!

 

Hey, I like Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, and like the song also. But Free, Free Falling isn’t something I want to be hearing at an airport or doing on an Aeroplaine, Hya!

 

As the arrival time for Phoenix apparently constantly rubber-banded before four hours later after our scheduled arrival, we finally arrived! And so much for arriving at dinner time. Which it really doesn’t help just having the airline employees apologize for our being late profusely…

 

Returning home was a relative “Breeze”. As there were no flight delays and TSA was “entertaining”, after they told me to look at the camera. Hmm, I’m Blind Sister!

 

Then another friendly TSA worker said He’s walk me thru the Ronald Dumbsfeld Bodies R Us (Body) Scanner. Asking me if I knew how to do the YMCA pose?

 

As He helped me walk sideways up the ramp, spread my feet and then positioned my arms being splayed backwards with my elbows out. Or something to that effect, which apparently was the aforementioned YMCA pose…

 

What, you mean no full body Pat-down, say what?

 

After collecting my suitcase, it was outside into “frigid” 43 degrees damp weather across the street to the designated Taxicab pickup area. Where two “enterprising”, Cabbies’ worked me over good trying to steal another’s fair. With both men telling me countless horror stories of how my cab company never shows up, Yada-Yada-Yada…

 

As my cab was 20mins late, but I stuck with the company I’d already made a reservation with. Which ironically turned out being the exact same driver who’d driven me to Eugene a week earlier.

 

And although I didn’t “get to climb in the back with the Girl with Kaleidoscope Eyes”. The road was completely empty and we made excellent time home, with another day’s Madcap journey over!

 

Partial song lyrics from: Crosby, Stills and Nash Just A song before I Go; 1977 CSN Album. 

The Perks of being A Blind Traveler

An upright, mobile Tomaso poses with a brace ‘O Prancing Horses. (The Tomaso Collection)

 

What do you mean, I can’t take my Easter Basket thru Security?

 

Yeah, as I’m surrounded to the tranquil sounds of a chainsaw, Timber! Hopefully just “pruning” the bushes? As I prefer my shade trees, Numbskulls! And in lieu of hunting for chocolate Bunnies, Marshmallow Peeps, Jellybeans, etc. I thought I’d serenade Y’all with this Easter tale of woe. Or should that be Lake woebegone?

 

This March I went to Arizona, being the first time I’ve flown on a Big ‘Ol Jetliner post Open Heart surgery, for which I was somewhat apprehensive over going thru security now with “metal” in my body. As not only do I have a mechanical heart valve, to which I have zero clue over it’s materials composition, but supposedly also carry stainless steel “bailing” wire around my sternum that was cut in half…

 

SO I asked the friendly Check-in Agent, who breezily said to tell TSA when I got to security. Then I awaited my “Chariot”, Err wheelchair to take me to my Gate. Since I’ve long since given up “fighting” over going by wheelchair thru crowded airports, which really is the easiest way for all involved.

 

Thus, a very no-nonsense, curt, All business woman briskly pushed me to my Gate, first going thru security. As I repeated my inquiry about my heart valve when handing my ticket and ID to the first security worker, who once again just said tell TSA.

 

Now in years past, after I’ve removed my shoes, put them, my folding white cane, backpack, etc. into the bins for screening, I’ve always been allowed to walk thru the X-Ray machine with the assistance of a TSA worker guiding me thru by taking my hand. Yet little did I know this wouldn’t be an option on this trip! For which I wasn’t even asked about, or given the option. Which I must say I found disconcerting…

 

But first I had to deal with the woman assisting me, who was very gruff and apparently didn’t understand what being Blind means? Curtly telling me to put my boots in the bin, on the table. Uhm, Hello? Do you realize I’m Freakin’ blind and cannot see the table or bin sister! As the “fun” was only beginning!

 

Little did I know that I’d be receiving a full body pat-down. With the TSA security worker explaining how He would be running the back of His hand in a horizontal and vertical motion over my groin and buttocks, Swell! After telling me to raise my arms up and hold them like somebody on a cross. Hey, after all the Easter Bunny does make Her yearly appearance today, Righto?

 

Telling me I could remain seated in the wheelchair, but to hold my arms up as He ran His hands over them, before patting down both the front and back of my torso, beginning with my backside…

 

Before  He got to my buttocks, He inserted His fingers inside my jeans waistband. Yo Dude, you’re getting a Wee bitamyte’ Frisky! Before asking me to slide to the right and left of the chair, and raise my buttocks into the air for Him. As I lifted one butt cheek at a time, before it was time for my frontal lobotomy, Err probe of my groin, Ooh la lah! Before He thoroughly patted down my legs to my ankles on both sides, with All of this “screening” occurring in full public view, since I’d declined the “privacy” screening…

 

And as I sat there being frisked, I suddenly realized that I’d brought my metal Hiking water bottle fully filled. Musing to myself kiss that goodbye! Before a female security agent pleasantly asked if I’d like Her to empty it for me? Yes, that would be wonderful, after She’d inquired if I had water inside it? Not only putting it back into the plastic bag I had it in, to prevent having a wet backpack. But also put the twisty “zip-tie” back on it…

 

Then my friendly wheelchair attendant, HaHa! Told me to put on my boot, which you guessed it, were on the table, Sigh! And then just pushed me to my Gate, said it’s right in front of you and simply walked off without saying a word.

 

Parked at my Gate a half hour before boarding, suddenly Southwest Airlines made a Gate change announcement for my flight, as my waiting area simply became a Ghost town with me being the only person left there in my forlorn wheelchair, WTF? Wondering if somebody was going to “collect” me? But nothing happened…

 

As I started to get a little bit concerned after they’d made the second Gate change announcement for my flight and I still sat alone. Hearing what sounded like an Airport worker nearby, I unfolded my cane and prudently called out to this lone man in the concourse. Hearing His walkie talkie squawking “Airport-speak”, asking if He worked here? Who then summoned somebody to come get me, take me to the new Gate, which thankfully I made my flight!

 

Ah Contrair, the fun’s just beginning, as that was only round one of going thru security.

 

And it’s funny, Haha? How each airport does their security screening. Since in Phoenix I didn’t bother to remove my portable CD player from my backpack. Hey, everybody still uses those, Righto? But Gee Wally! My backpack made it fine thru the x-ray machine without removing it, which I’d done in Seattle…

 

Yep, you guessed it. Once again, I got to be up close ‘n personal with a TSA security agent for another wheelchair pat-down. Although I had zero clue that this would be an enhanced full body pat-down! Being the youngest of the three wheelchair bound travelers; with a woman who was 81 and a man 72, I just sat there parked alone for several minutes.

 

Then two agents approached me and asked if I had anything to declare? Telling them about my heart valve and bailing wire, they asked if I was able to stand for 4-7mins?

 

Standing upright, once again I got to spread my arms like being on a cross. Before the one man said I could put them down after He’d seen my one hand shaking apparently? After they’d been thoroughly patted down.

 

Now, not only did I get to have my buttocks and groin patted down with the backs of His palms. But this time they had me give myself a “wedgie!” Asking me to pull my jeans waistband up as high as it would go and then hold it there!

 

Yet first I needed to remove the empty plastic produce bag I’d forgotten was in my rear pants pocket. With the agent asking if I could remove it for Him please. Which He handed back to me later…

 

As I hiked up my jeans, holding them by the empty belt loop on each side, once again a hand slipped inside my waistband front and back. And then He asked me if I could spread my legs? A little further, please…

 

As the second man then instructed the one patting me down, where to  thoroughly frisk me. Making me guess He must have been in training? He lightly “caressed” the insides of my groin down to my ankles before I could put my legs back together. Then said I could get back into the wheelchair, before my much friendlier male wheelchair attendant collected me.

 

Putting on my boots, the other male wheelchair bound member of our trio, who’d apparently watched these proceedings  bemusedly proclaimed to Mwah afterwards: My Gawd, I didn’t know I was traveling with Osama Bin laden!

 

Having watched the TSA agent search every inch of my body from neck to toes front and back thoroughly!

 

And that’s just a “small” flavour of some of my Blind travel Hijinx

 

As just don’t Call me Shirley! Roger-Roger. Guess I picked a Bad day to Quit sniffing Glue, Hya!