YETMO

"A tale of two cities -- and airports"

It was time to travel again for my job. I had meetings in Washington, DC, as is often the case. My usual itinerary for such trips is flying the USAir Metrojet from Jacksonville, Florida, (Jaxport) to BWI, Baltimore/Washington International airport. Yes, that's the same Metrojet service that we've read is going belly-up in December.

Given the recent major disruption to our airline industry, I expected some horrendous waits and processing procedures for my sojourn. I was looking forward to experiencing this brave, new airport world as much as I would happily anticipate walking over hot coals.

You can't always believe what you read in the papers or hear on the radio and TV. My experience at Jaxport was painless. I can't say enjoyable, for the deserted, somber nature of the place was eerie at best, downright depressing at worst. Subdued would be a mild word to describe the atmosphere. To help you gain the appropriate perspective, I was able to clearly hear the Muzak being piped through the sound system and could even discern the songs being played. I never knew that airports played music. I never heard it before with all the hustle and bustle.

There were very few people in the facility, which, to be sure, added to the bizarre environment. I felt like I was in a small county airport at 3:00 a.m. rather than a large metropolitan one at 9:30 on a weekday morning. But those folks present were possessive of an almost reverent nature. There were no loudmouths blabbering on cellphones, which too frequently I am one. There were no small cliques of friends or families whooping it up, and laughing and telling stories about crazy Uncle Jack.

It certainly wasn't business as usual.

My trip was to be a short one. I was scheduled to return the next afternoon. When I first arrived from Jacksonville at BWI, that airport also seemed comparatively slow, although it was a veritable beehive compared with the smaller Jaxport. I figured that my return flight would be as quick and simple as was my Jax check-in only hours earlier.

Pow! Smack! Did anyone get the number of that truck? BWI was an absolute madhouse. The ticket counter, through which all air travelers must first pass under new security regulations, snaked such a meandering line of humanity, that approximately 400 people were in front of me and the serpentine phalanx of fidgety fliers resembled the Colorado River and seemed just as lengthy. The wait in the first line was one hour and 45 minutes. After that, the perplexed, yet intrepid, passengers had to proceed to another queue: the security screening station.

My flight pulled away from the gate 45 minutes late. Why? Ticket holders were held up in the lines, of course, so USAir graciously decided to hold the aircraft until these folks could be located and expedited, as best as possible, through these new obstacle courses, formerly known as airports.

This week I'm scheduled to do this all over again. Lucky me. I wonder what's in store? Will we have smoothed out these bumps, or will adjustment take months? I fear the latter.

As many commentators and pundits have already observed, our world is different now. We'll have to be extraordinarily patient as our country adjusts to this latest challenge. Patience, unfortunately, is not one of my strong suits. We'll see how well we can balance the need for prudent caution against America's fundamental wanderlust. We'll see if I can manage it.

One thing's for sure. The friendly skies are no longer friendly.