We arrive at the airport at 1pm, print the boarding pass at the self-service kiosk which reminds me to be at the gate 15-minutes before flight time, and sit at the only cafe in the terminal for a bit of lunch (and the food was actually quite good). Twenty minutes before flight time, we kissed goodbye and I head to security. With boarding pass and driver's license dutifully in hand, I waited less than a minute to hand my info to the friendly man who takes his job very, very seriously, making sure no terrorists get through...He looks at my license, and then at the boarding pass, and then eyes me suspiciously and says, "Delta flagged you for 'special security.' Take this red card and go to the line all the way to the right." I ask him what's this about-- could it be because I bought my ticket the day before the flight??? Is that what terrorists do???
No problem. The line to the right is shorter! I put my purse and backpack and shoes through the security machine, walk through the metal detector and hand the little red card to the very serious-looking lady standing there waiting. "Step over there," she says. And then she gets on the radio and calls for "special security," which turns out to be an extremely slow-moving little old lady who asks me which stuff is mine and then directs me into a cordoned off area and tells me to lift my arms and spread my legs. She then talks me through every part of my body she pats down to check for implements of mass destruction. Then she pulls everything out of my purse and backpack and inspects it all with great care. At least fifteen minutes later, I'm free to go.
So I take my stuff and, literally, RUN towards the gate! S@#*T!!! My plane is at gate B20 - the last one down a very, very long hallway!!! By the time I get there the door is closed, the ticket counter vacated, and I'm SOL.
I call Brian's cell. It rings and rings and finally I leave a message, thinking he's still in the process of walking to the car. As I'm walking back to the terminal towards Ticketing, I ring Brian's phone at least 10 times hoping he'll hear it and pick up (or at least LOOK at it and see I've called 10 times). No luck. After changing the ticket for the next morning, I figure Brian must've left his phone in the hotel room, so I start walking back, the entire time calling Brian's cell phone, but hanging up before the voicemail picks up. I think I called at least 50 times; the last of which I actually heard his phone ringing as I opened the hotel door. The phone is on the desk. Brian is heaven-knows-where, most likely sight-seeing in Boise. Imagine his surprise when he gets back to find me here... (I've been back nearly 2 hours and he still hasn't shown up. Hmmmm....)
Here's the view from the hotel towards the airport. Good thing it wasn't a very long walk...
Here's what you get in Boise for $90 per night (including tax, breakfast, and milk & cookies between 8:30 and 10pm). Tonight I'm going to eat MORE than my share of cookies...
