Ridin' Drrrrrty

I flew sick yesterday.

I know you're not supposed to, and I kept envisioning those heat-sensing devices the Chinese put up during the bird flu outbreak. They'd pull you out of line if your body heat was too high. My paranoia was reinforced when TSA set up some sort of mobile command unit at my boarding gate, and pulled a few people out of line for random checks. My primary fear was that they'd open my backpack and I'd never be able to re-pack all the CDs jammed in there--part of my commitment to Mom that I'll take more of my stuff out of her closets in San Diego. But my secondary fear was that one of these gentle souls would feel my forehead.

Anyway, I promise I don't have swine flu, just one of those colds I get whenever I sleep for fewer than seven hours a night. (Wimp.) But by the time Adam and I were getting off the plane, I was wondering out loud if the reason you're not allowed to fly sick is the likelihood that you'll just go apeshit on one of the many morons in any given airport.

We were absolutely surrounded.

The security line on a Monday evening coming out of San Diego is almost non-existant, but we were behind a family traveling with two babies and seemingly about ten bottles of water. (The rule, as declared by the TSA agent, is that you can't bring water on unless you can prove it's for the baby. I'm not sure how they decide that.) Then three women in wheelchairs jumped the line, then complained there was no wheelchair waiting for them on the other side. We later saw them browsing the souvenier shops, no wheelchairs in sight.

There was the guy who got on the plane close to the end, who got everyone's attention by demanding who it was who took "his" space in "his" overhead compartment. I'm not sure how this dude got his carry-on onto the plane--it was a four-foot-long, absolutely stuffed duffel bag. He wasn't happy to have to gate-check it, but what I want to know is how he got that thing through both security and the gate agent. He couldn't even carry it with one hand; he was kind of hugging it to his body.

Then there were the kids behind me, who had a case of the "me-sies." That's what their parents called it when they were fighting or being selfish, like it's a really cute phenomenon. The fighting eventually stopped, because the mother was hosting a sing-along with the five-year-old. This is the SECOND TIME this year I've been in close proximity to a mother who sings to/with her kid for an entire flight. And know what the worst part is? I'll bet when these women's friends take them to karaoke, they're the ones who bashfully and annoyingly decline to participate.

Now, I'm never super laid-back, but on Friday, when I was healthy and pumped for the trip, when the woman behind me in the security line thought she could bring a bottle of Charles Shaw on the plane, I just laughed. We can't do a lot to prevent the spread of H1N1, but by limiting sick people in the airport, we CAN reduce fistfights and boarding gate violence. Because you can bet that if I had the spare energy to lift my arm last night, I would have at LEAST waved it threateningly at these people.