03-27-2015, 09:57 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-28-2015, 05:33 PM by CardBoardBox.
Edit Reason: 1 quote removed
)
Scary? As in the days of MIA-MBJ-Kingston-MIA (on Air Jamaica which was the route they took in the 80's) and the short stopover in Kingston turned into FOUR HOURS of being told ABSOLUTLY NOTHING about what was the problem or when we would depart?
Or this kind of scary? I flew into MBJ on Monday, September 10, 2001 and, being September, like the month of MAY, I would sweat while standing still and thus had booked a room at the Negril Beach Club Condos because they had air conditioning (Heartbeat had windows (and no screens, so I used to bring my own, and push pins)) and CABLE TELEVISION.
Home in NJ I was happy with an antenna on the roof and never had to complain of "72 channels and nothing on", nor of the monthly cable bill. Besides, with enough stations from NYC, and even PBS from Brooklyn NY with the "Rockers TV" with Earl Chin, a reggae show once a week, so who needed more.
NBCC was/IS managed by a lady named Jean who is "good people" who I met in 1989 via mistaken identity. And like the staff at YOUR favorite hotel which makes you feel at-home and welcome and does-you-right, you return as often as possible. It is unimportant I never had to pay a deposit and always paid my bill during or when I was checking out, in both J and US. I won't go into the need to pay in J.)
So Tuesday morning comes and I'm outside and Jean approached me and said "Did you hear? The twin towers fell down." Hey, this wasn't April 1st. 110 story buildings of steel, concrete (and sheet rock - read "dust cloud") don't FALL DOWN. So in disbelief and a "prove it" attitude, we walked over to a truck with the radio playing.
Eventually I went inside for the televison feed. For the rest of my stay there we no movies to watch. None. Only news. I had a nice room with a balcony, a view of the ocean beyond a very wide beach, but I had "72 channels of planes crashing into buildings" etc.
Negril became a ghost town, worse than any low-season in my history. I think even the higglers (?) took the week off. And then there was the situation of Nothing was flying, anywhere, for what turned out to be only 3 days, but things were doubtful if my Monday reservations were intact and I decided to ride the JUTA bus instead of the public bus in the event I would be doing a round trip that day.
Arriving at the airport, there were men with big, really big guns walking around. Instead of just the normal inspection point, which this time had visible men with realy big guns, and the one at Gate 8 which was run by American Airlines own people for the occasional spot check of baggage which this time every carryon got checked throughly. There were probably men with guns there too, and since it's my story, I'll say there were.
Somewhere before the gate, but I don't remember where, was another complete hand check of every piece of carry on and fanny packs. More guns, probably. I'm thinking WTF, we all just want to go home. What could the previous check possibly have missed.
When I traveled down, I would tie a rope around the cardboard box luggage to make it easier to carry (lug / drag) and of course reclose the boxes after JA customs. The right length for a 21x21x21 box (maximum volumn), I would take the rope back home for my next trip. At the first inspection point in the airport, they took the rope from my carry on. You can't take this, the girl informed me. But I have been reusing the same rope for a long time, I pleaded to her. The girl inspector said "You might tie up the pilot," in a very sweet voice.
I'm not making this up; the quote is a quote, and as etched into my mind as when I was young and a girl said to me "You broke my zipper." (Tangent; Wait till you grow old and memories pop into your brain from 40/45 years back.)
Needless to say, my rope became history that day. But the general tone at the airport was not increased security but more so of being SCARY.
AFTERMATH. My car was at Newark airport in NJ. The flight I got on had a destination of Kennedy, which is east of New York City. The MBJ-MIA (Miami) passengers got combined onto the direct MBJ-NY flight. We were just happy to be flying close to home on the day we expected. Public transportation from Kennedy meant subway and public bus with a change over in a section of town which would have not been one of choice late at night, by a tired traveler with a carry on bag. And that route would have only gotten me to the NYC Port Authority bus station for another ride (if the buses ran that late) to Newark. But scary didn't enter the equation because a whole bunch of us mis-landed passengers found an airport-to-airport shuttle bus at a reasonable price.
AFTERTHOUGHT. If I had been in NJ, a mile west of NYC that fateful day, there was only one TV station that still had their transmitter in the Empire State building (ala King Kong.)
Or this kind of scary? I flew into MBJ on Monday, September 10, 2001 and, being September, like the month of MAY, I would sweat while standing still and thus had booked a room at the Negril Beach Club Condos because they had air conditioning (Heartbeat had windows (and no screens, so I used to bring my own, and push pins)) and CABLE TELEVISION.
Home in NJ I was happy with an antenna on the roof and never had to complain of "72 channels and nothing on", nor of the monthly cable bill. Besides, with enough stations from NYC, and even PBS from Brooklyn NY with the "Rockers TV" with Earl Chin, a reggae show once a week, so who needed more.
NBCC was/IS managed by a lady named Jean who is "good people" who I met in 1989 via mistaken identity. And like the staff at YOUR favorite hotel which makes you feel at-home and welcome and does-you-right, you return as often as possible. It is unimportant I never had to pay a deposit and always paid my bill during or when I was checking out, in both J and US. I won't go into the need to pay in J.)
So Tuesday morning comes and I'm outside and Jean approached me and said "Did you hear? The twin towers fell down." Hey, this wasn't April 1st. 110 story buildings of steel, concrete (and sheet rock - read "dust cloud") don't FALL DOWN. So in disbelief and a "prove it" attitude, we walked over to a truck with the radio playing.
Eventually I went inside for the televison feed. For the rest of my stay there we no movies to watch. None. Only news. I had a nice room with a balcony, a view of the ocean beyond a very wide beach, but I had "72 channels of planes crashing into buildings" etc.
Negril became a ghost town, worse than any low-season in my history. I think even the higglers (?) took the week off. And then there was the situation of Nothing was flying, anywhere, for what turned out to be only 3 days, but things were doubtful if my Monday reservations were intact and I decided to ride the JUTA bus instead of the public bus in the event I would be doing a round trip that day.
Arriving at the airport, there were men with big, really big guns walking around. Instead of just the normal inspection point, which this time had visible men with realy big guns, and the one at Gate 8 which was run by American Airlines own people for the occasional spot check of baggage which this time every carryon got checked throughly. There were probably men with guns there too, and since it's my story, I'll say there were.
Somewhere before the gate, but I don't remember where, was another complete hand check of every piece of carry on and fanny packs. More guns, probably. I'm thinking WTF, we all just want to go home. What could the previous check possibly have missed.
When I traveled down, I would tie a rope around the cardboard box luggage to make it easier to carry (lug / drag) and of course reclose the boxes after JA customs. The right length for a 21x21x21 box (maximum volumn), I would take the rope back home for my next trip. At the first inspection point in the airport, they took the rope from my carry on. You can't take this, the girl informed me. But I have been reusing the same rope for a long time, I pleaded to her. The girl inspector said "You might tie up the pilot," in a very sweet voice.
I'm not making this up; the quote is a quote, and as etched into my mind as when I was young and a girl said to me "You broke my zipper." (Tangent; Wait till you grow old and memories pop into your brain from 40/45 years back.)
Needless to say, my rope became history that day. But the general tone at the airport was not increased security but more so of being SCARY.
AFTERMATH. My car was at Newark airport in NJ. The flight I got on had a destination of Kennedy, which is east of New York City. The MBJ-MIA (Miami) passengers got combined onto the direct MBJ-NY flight. We were just happy to be flying close to home on the day we expected. Public transportation from Kennedy meant subway and public bus with a change over in a section of town which would have not been one of choice late at night, by a tired traveler with a carry on bag. And that route would have only gotten me to the NYC Port Authority bus station for another ride (if the buses ran that late) to Newark. But scary didn't enter the equation because a whole bunch of us mis-landed passengers found an airport-to-airport shuttle bus at a reasonable price.
AFTERTHOUGHT. If I had been in NJ, a mile west of NYC that fateful day, there was only one TV station that still had their transmitter in the Empire State building (ala King Kong.)