New Rules at 10,000 Metres: Surviving a Liquid Free Flight

by Laurel E. Anderson

Kourier Standard -  September 8, 2006

It was simple really. I had to go to Toronto for the weekend. Booked my ticket the night before the UK terrorist plot discovery and subsequent airport security ‘lock down.’ Sad, down and then angry, incensed and frustrated! I wasn’t sure that I wanted to travel on the weekend anymore. It was supposed to be a quick jaunt from Ottawa to Toronto. An innocent sisters’ weekend we had been trying to plan since May. But with Air Canada no longer flying to Toronto Island and the new challenge of no carryon thrown in accompanied by heightened security and related paranoia, I’m envisioning a quick one hour flight turning into several hours of angst.

I despise this war and I dislike being at the mercy of terrorists but I want to be safe and appreciate the agencies that govern this sort of thing and want to continue to ensure safe air travel for everyone. At the same time I resent the heightened paranoia, frustration and anger that often developments in a situation like this.

So, after contemplating not going on my weekend at all, I thought about it and how I would now have to take a suitcase instead of my beach bag carry on. There’s no way I would check that, as I would probably not even recognize it at the baggage carousel. This thought automatically relegates me to a small suitcase. And, if that’s not the hippest, if not most logistically feasible way to travel the subway, I sure as heck don’t know what is.

So I made a decision, the type of decision I don’t make lightly. I would travel as a minimalist! I would travel so light that I wouldn’t even know what hit me. I might even be down a few pounds for traveling with nothing. You see, I am a burden packer and a ‘just in case’ packer. I pack for everything and anything weather and fashion-wise that might transpire. This means the hugest suitcase that can be rolled onto the weight machine at the airport, for a two-day trip.

But not this time. I was going to travel with nothing-nota, zilch. Just me, the clothes on my back, a purse and nothing more. Anything I needed I would beg, borrow or steal (okay, not the last one) and mail back to myself if needed. So I started to get ready to go. Or so I thought I needed to get ready. I quickly realized that there was nothing to do. I didn’t have to deal with the usually stressful packing ponderings of ‘what should I pack and how many pairs of shoes’ that I normally face. It was a freeing moment. and so off to bed I went.

Early to rise and a shower is in order as I’m leaving all liquids behind. It’s just after 5 am and I’m out the door and into the car with just my purse. Okay, it’s a tote style so I did stick in some pj’s and blush along with my plane ticket and passport. It felt odd, like I was forgetting something.

I’m at the airport now. The lines for security are long and there’s an atmosphere that feels like mild mania in the queue. But the line moves rapidly as fellow flyers banter about liquids and gels, breast milk and lipstick. It’s a very informal atmosphere as people chat back and forth. “Are they allowing lipstick?’ inquires one lady. “Well, they took my sister’s deodorant,” answers another in an authoritative tone. “I was told that if it’s solid it’s good to go and that includes lipstick and deodorant as long as it’s not gel-based.” That’s know-it-all me sharing the brief from my husband who had traveled the day before and had brought me up to speed on the ban on mascara. Still, with all the reports out, security was still hauling in a pretty good ‘stash’ at x-ray. I don’t know if people were just forgetting or hoping for the best. Either way, there would be plenty of loot to go around at shift end.

I make it through security okay. It’s actually pretty uneventful-almost normal, except that there are more bodies sweeping bags and patting down people. I mind my own business and head to my gate and as I do so I notice lots of commuters clutching that old, familiar traveling security blanket, disguised as a brown cup.  And as I’m thinking about just what exactly I would do at that particular moment for a Starbucks Latte, I think about water and how I always take a bottle in my bag when I fly. Never mind that my pj’s and lonely toothbrush (no paste as per rules) are already crowding my purse that is substituting for a suitcase on this trip, I’ve just learned that no water bottles are allowed on deck while waiting for flights.

I ask an airport employee the scoop on that. No water or sodas but coffee is allowed? She explains that I can buy a bottle of water but only at Tim’s and that for no extra charge they will pour it into one of those brown cups sans lid. Nothing with a lid. Everything must be uncovered and it makes me wonder how long it will take for the airport voice to come over the public address system and inform everyone to remove all lids-every single one, even those on their heads. My imagination runs wild with visions of floaties in my drink dancing in my head along with a quick visual of a clumsy ‘extra large triple, triple’ customer taking a stumble and scalding someone real bad and I’m almost out of control in my thoughts when another, rather scary vision pops into my head, a new development is requiring everyone to be naked to fly, for security reasons of course. I think I caught some of the mania in the security line. By the way, cardboard water is yummy. You should try it sometime.

The trip home on Sunday is mostly uneventful except that I have chapped lips and I note that some of the new security measures have already been relaxed. I couldn’t get a straight answer on whether it was Toronto procedure or all of Canada except that my ‘server’ at the convenience store shared that they were pouring drinks into cups on Saturday while in Ottawa, Tim Horton’s still had the monopoly on cardboard water sales.

And yes, you heard me right. My server aka the cashier at the airport store was stationed at the coolers with a table and some cups and LIDS! I paid and he poured. It was brilliant and I was happy. I nursed my Coke until boarding time and then flew home safe and sound, again without liquids. One thing that did catch my eye as we were preparing to depart the plane was the action of one man putting liquid drops in his eyes. Hmm, lax security, oversight (no pun intended) or an exception to the liquid ban rule? I didn’t think about it much more as I scurried past the luggage carousel where weary travelers were circling, waiting to be reunited with their liquids. I was grateful to make it home safe and sound and proud to have survived my liquid free travel diet.

Laurel is a writer living in the nation’s capital. She flies a lot but tries not to lie a lot.

                                                                                                       back