Two coffees, several visits to the loo (nervous bladder?), a few raids on the departure lounge shops, a long walk and two and a half hours later, we were seated at the gate, ready to board our flight.
My security breach had been put behind me and I was just opening my novel when I heard, “Excuse me madam, do you mind if I ask you a few questions? I’m with Heathrow Security.”
Looking up in alarm, I slammed my book shut reflexively, as though hiding my guilty secrets. She wore the crisp white blouse, black skirt and slick grooming of the previously encountered Gestapo. I wore an oh-no-not-again expression.
“Just some routine questions.” Another foreign accent. Ulla was the name on her badge. The secret police had tracked me through the airport! I was toying with the idea of saying Yes, I do mind, but she launched into her patter before I could muster up the bravado to give an unbidden answer to her rhetorical question.
“What is your destination?”
The same as everyone else held captive at this gate. “Calgary.”
“What is your final destination?”
“Seattle.”
“Where have you traveled from today?”
I muttered, “’pswich.” Alright, Ulla, spell that! With a quick and precise script she wrote Ipswich. Oh.
“What council district?”
Are you kidding me? “I don’t know.”
“Post code?”
“I don’t know.” Oh, that just makes me sound stupid. “Um, no, I . . don’t know,” I offered feebly, bumptiousness fizzling.
“Okay. How have you traveled here today?” she asked with the tolerance of a well trained interrogator.
“Hire car.” She flipped a pad looking for a chart to find a special code to put in a box on her form and hire car wasn’t listed. With English as her second language, she was unable to translate. In hyper helpful mode and now anxious to just leave the country, I looked over her shoulder and picked from the chart “rental car” for her.
“How would you rate your experience in security today?” and she read off a list:
“Well above my expectations.
Above my expectations.
Neither above nor below my expectations.
Below my expectations.
Bloody awful.”
No, she didn’t say that last one on the list. Perusing the list I couldn’t see a suitable expression for my security experience so dithered for a bit then chose the middle, non-committal answer.
“Why have you chosen that answer?” Ah, here we go.
“I felt rushed when my belongings came through security and there wasn’t enough space to put my things away and the security person wasn’t very helpful well quite rude actually and I felt intimidated and harassed and I just, well, I . . . . ” and I ran out of steam as she ran out of space to write in her little box.
There. Had I vindicated myself? The “strip search” room went unmentioned. By her and by me. And by Jimmy. He was oh so engrossed in his book. And pretending once again that he was nothing to do with me.
Shortly afterwards, we boarded our Air Canada flight for Calgary. Having left behind Heathrow Airport and its terrifying team of search and interrogation, we looked forward to the warmth and friendliness of the Canadians. They were friendly, but . . . . . .
. . . . . to be continued . . . . . in Calgary.
Next head for the prayer room, they probably stay out of there.
LikeLike
I should have prayed that they wouldn’t follow me.
LikeLike
That survey was very strange, it must be that huge carry-on bag getting all of their attention!
LikeLike
All will be revealed this week. I was “a chosen one.”
LikeLike
Maybe you should have taken your shoes off in the first place!
LikeLike
I think you are right. And I do now.
LikeLike
Are you a magnet to international police?
LikeLike
It seems that way. Like I said, you wouldn’t want to travel with me! As it is, can’t wait for my next flight. Ha!
LikeLike
Good grief…this sounds like a nightmare. I don’t know if I would of been this patient with her after she tracked me down. Sounds like a stalker☺
LikeLike
At that point I just wanted to answer her questions, board the plane and leave Heathrow security behind.I thought that would be the end of it. But it wasn’t.
LikeLike
Isn’t international travel fun? 😉 Makes me never want to leave the country. Look forward to future installments.
LikeLike
Great fun. am so looking forward to my next flight!
LikeLike
😀
LikeLike
“Excuse me ma’am…” I would have died! And there is more to come……. I am feeling for ya!
LikeLike
To say I was shocked at that point is an understatement! :O
LikeLike
I think I would have remained in a fetal position by then…… 😮
LikeLike
If I had, do you think they would have carried me on board and placed me carefully in a first class seat? I should have tried that.
LikeLike
And you are not in jail yet! Or is that a future post. Just joking….,
LikeLike
If it’s not a spoiler alert, I didn’t end up in jail. They just traumatized me some more.
LikeLike
Jeeeze what did you do??? You don’t look like a criminal to me…
LikeLike
I guess they thought I did!
LikeLike
more?! this is like the never ending story!
LikeLike
You shoulda been there! We thought so too.
LikeLike
eeeek – I’m kind of glad to know you somehow made it to your destination as you’re writing these posts but still…
LikeLike
The only saving grace was that I wiled away the whole trans-Atlantic flight to Calgary writing what had happened at Heathrow. I didn’t know that I would spend the whole flight to Seattle writing about what had happened at Calgary!
LikeLike
I have no idea how long a flight that is (I am infamous for my bad geography. We went on a family holiday to the US and canada a few years ago and ended up doing rather more driving than we’d bargained for as I did the planning and ‘the distances looked small on the map’…
… but clearly it was an eventful journey
LikeLike
We’ve driven all over the States and have been caught out many times. The distances always look tiny on the map. It’s hard to get your head around the size of this country when you live on a small island!
The whole flight direct from London to the west coast of the US is about 11 hours. When you break it up with stopovers the last leg just seems to take forever.
LikeLike
Yeah, I’ll bet!
LikeLike
😕
LikeLike
Seems like perhaps a good thing that you were able to give feedback on such an awful experience with airport security? I like how honest you were!
LikeLike
On the basis of subsequent journeys, my feedback went in the trash!
LikeLike
I wonder if they ever achieve anything else than to upset travellers?
LikeLike
On this particular journey – no.
LikeLike
You are cracking me up girl. Now really you can’t tell me that we gave you a rough time in Calgary?!
LikeLike
The rest of it was kind of our fault because we were so tired. That’s my excuse anyway. Maybe we’re just stupid.
LikeLike
I’d go with tired 🙂
LikeLike
You’re too kind.
LikeLike
I have never heard of a security person doing a SURVEY post clearance. Most odd!!!!
LikeLike
Oh yes, wasn’t I the lucky one?
LikeLike
A magnet for trouble 🙂
LikeLike
That time I was, but there was a reason. You’ll see. 😀
LikeLike
I find Greek airport security the best, they are generally so disinterested that there is hardly anyone on duty and the passport check is never more than a single glance at the photograph page.
LikeLike
I’ll fly there next time. And stay there.
LikeLike
Excuse me, madam….. 3 words that inflict terror!
LikeLike
You hit the nail on the head. They certainly did!
LikeLike
Not quite as bad as when they call your name specifically.
LikeLike
Ever hopeful, I always think that is for a seat upgrade!
LikeLike
Must be just me then… dunno why I get so un-nerved by authority figures knowing my name. By the way the Chevy Caprice back seats are more comfortable than the Crown Vic. And the Vic back seats are way more comfy than the Dodge.
LikeLike
Ha! You’re funny. I had to read that three times before I got it. You speak with the voice of experience?
LikeLike
Just let my mouth talk more than it should… I swear it’s not me, my mouth just says stuff that I would never say…
LikeLike
Is that what you tell them from the back seat?
LikeLike
5th amendment
LikeLike
Hahahaha! Too funny!
LikeLike
There’s more??
LikeLike
Yeah, there are two more episodes. We had a nice Air Canada flight though.
LikeLike