Two Airports

I spent the last two days on Long Island. I was reminded of things I didn’t realize I missed, like Carvel and White Castle. I also forgot how noisy houses with baseboard heating could be.

Another thing I miss is simple courtesy. Flying out of Hartsfield in Atlanta, the TSA agents were brusque and downright rude. If their job is to inspire fear in fliers, they are certainly pursing it with no inconsiderable amount of zeal.

Ironically, another passenger was flagged to have her hands tested for some sort of chemical residue. I’ve no idea why she was picked, but if it was for gunpowder, I can only wonder what they’d have thought if they swabbed mine.

Coming back, I flew out of MacArthur Airport. Aside from being cleaner and better organized than Hartsfield, the security checkpoint was nearly pleasant. A piece of metal in my hip showed up on the body scanner, and the agent who flagged me was pleasant and efficient. He explained why I was pulled, assured me he’d make the pat-down as quick as possible, then wished me a happy flight while remarking that I was fortunate to be getting out while the weather was good.

Say what you will of “Yankees.” Folks could learn a great deal from them about manners.