DAMN O'HARE

Well, O’Hare does it again.  We had an uneventful drive from home to Chicago with the only construction being between home and Grand Rapids.  Oscar provided comedy from the back seat in the form of counting big rigs, but always stopping at 14 and playing I spy.  He was excited about every big rig we passed and was excited about the shuttle at the airport and the security until we had to part ways with John because we were TSA pre check.  I did get a very nice mother’s day call from my nephew who’s about to graduate high school and didn’t get time to talk to him because we had just arrived at O’Hare and that bummed me out, but we were pressing things as it was apparently.  John’s line was going a lot faster than our “precheck” line, which didn’t make sense, but I just thought it would change somewhere in the future.  I asked the guy at the turn what was taking so long and he said that it doesn’t look like this except on weekdays at 5pm when the business travelers are leaving.  But when we finally get to the front, I’m told that there is no “TSA precheck here” because it’s international.  So, they’ve made me wait twice as long in a line that has no meaning with my toddler and all of the electronics that John had given me because of my status, that now means nothing.  Well, when I finally get up to the machine, there’s no time for it all.  I’m trying to pull out the ipad, the laptop, find the camera I know is in there too, take clothes, off, shoes off, put things in bins, and handle a 3 year old who wants to go through the machine with a guard waving him through. We make it through I think when I hear, “did someone leave a bag?”  It’s mine, of course.  The big bag with all the liquids in it that I got, again because of my now nonexistent precheck status.  They won’t let Oscar back through security, only me, so I have to go back through and get the bag, wait to break into line trying to get an eye on my son who is being rocked by the hoards of people coming through this security checkpoint while taking out liquids and being thankful that I’m neurotic about putting them in baggies.  Finally, we’re through security where John has been done and shopping in duty free for the last  20 minutes.  And with that one thing, Chicago O’Hare has screwed me again and for the last time.