“Clear” And Present Salespeople
Hey, you know what we haven't done for a while? A travel blog! Yay! What a novel concept, right?
May, Gracie, and I were on pilgrimage to the sacred holy land of Wisconsin, in particular my parents house. It was built around 93-94 or so, and I still remember the christening of the place with our first dinner inside, consisting of pizza and Mountain Dew. The modest meal was heightened by the housewarming visuals of cardboard strewn across the floor and a graveyard of dead flies littered about the basement like the Battle of Verdun.
As you can tell, it is a cherished memory.
We had left for the airport with plenty of time, but arrived with only an hour before our plane was due to take-off as a result of several inconvenient factors. For example, we had stopped by a deli to pick up breakfast sandwiches for the drive, because that's how we (bacon, egg, and cheese on a) roll, but also while there we ordered a dozen bagels to go – the bagel selection in Wisconsin near my parents is less than exciting, and May really liked to show off the embarrassment of doughy riches around our neighborhood. We then picked up Lesley, who was kind enough to act as both our para-uber driver and long term parking. Finally, traffic was chunky like the classic candy bar.
All this to say that we finally arrived at the airport just about an hour before takeoff time. This is not my preferred method – I like to arrive a day or so ahead of time and camp out by the check-in lines – but this time, even though we were running against the clock, I was oddly relaxed about it.
The check-in was not a problem, to be fair. May had already done that on the phone and we just needed to use the kiosk to get the bag tag. But the bag drop-off? Yikes. There was a 15-20 minute line to just drop off the bags; this seemed odd, because in the past it felt like we would just need to wander over and, well, “drop off” the “bags” and then skip off on our merry way. But this time, we got in the standard queue line and inched along, despite there being a number of workers behind the counter helping people.
We finally got our one checked bag weighed and dropped off, just so we could dash off to wait in the security line. Now, this part was equally confusing.
First of all, as we were hoofin’ it over there, some person asked if we wanted to do a free trial of that “Clear” thing and sign up. We politely declined as we were, quite obviously, speed-walking to get to security and use the TSA Pre-Check that we were already paying for.
Then, as we approached the lines, the signage was… off. It looked like there were 4-5 different entrances for the security line, but each of them was TSA Pre-Check? Maybe? Sorta? May thought that they were, in fact, different variants of TSA Pre-Check, but yikes, I’ve been to garage sales that had better labeling.
One line which was clearly marked and had no wait was, of course, the one for Clear. Because nobody uses it. Because it’s just another thing you have to pay for.
“Hey there folks,” an apparent airline attendant said, “need to get through security quickly? Use this line,” he indicated the Clear queue (which was, to be fair, clear). The odd thing is that while he was dressed like an airport attendant, he did seem awfully excited for us to take the Clear line.
“Wait,” I asked. “Is this the regular Pre-Check line?”
“Oh sure,” he semi-lied (Clear provides Pre-Check, but, if you’ll pardon the pun, it “clearly” is not the same thing). “Just use this line.”
“We aren’t members. I just want to know for sure which is the regular Pre-Check line.”
“No problem. Just sign up for a free trail. You don’t have to pay anything.”
“No, thank you.” At this point I realized he was, in fact, a salesman and not a helpful, friendly attendant.
“It’s a free trail,” he repeated. “Then you can use the short line.”
“Sorry, we don’t want to sign up.”
“Did I mention it’s a free trial? Let me restate that…”
“Sure,” I finally said, exasperated, “it’s a free trail, but then we have to pay to keep it, right?”
That finally shut him up.
Well, for maybe 1 minute.
He actually came back to us while we were already in line and tried again: “Hey, if you are part of the ultra-wealthy sky premier club for airlines then the membership will be free!”
“I’m not,” I shot him down, and then just to be safe, added, “and I will not be until my book, ‘The Excursionist’s Excerpts’ (hurry! Order your copy today!) hits #1 on the New York Times bestseller list, so if you really want me to sign up, you can always just buy my book.”
That finally caused him to recoil in pain, and with a hiss, he fled into the shadows.
Triumphant, I settled into the correct line. The line that was inching forward with the speed of a thousand snails, sure, but still – the correct line.
“They have started boarding our flight,” May grimly announced, her phone chirping merrily.
“We have defeated the evils of airline check-in solicitation," I reassured her. “I am sated with justice.”
After about 10 minutes, we finally got to show off our passports, smile for the facial recognition technology that surely will never be used against us, and were off to the gate.
Something neat about the airport is that they have started adding walk times to the signs, so you have an idea of how long it will take you to reach each listed destination. Glancing at the sign, it cheerfully noted that we were still a good eight minute hike from our gate.
Yippee-skip.
We rolled on like Proud Mary, and as at last we rounded the corner and spied our gate, I saw on the overhead displays the lovely phrase, "Boarding Ended.”
Perfect timing!
Well, the good news is that while it said that, I did see another person scurry through the open doorway, so I huffed ahead of the family to the counter.
“Hey!” I said to the gate attendant. “We are on this plane and just got here. I see the sign, but we can still board, right?” I flashed my winning smile, the same one that had turned hundreds of first dates into hundreds of only dates.
Fortunately, the young woman behind the counter was a professional. “Sure! We prefer everyone to make it on board, honestly.” She then added in a little passive-aggressive footnote: “Even though you should know that we generally close boarding 15 minutes prior to departure. Just an FYI.”
“We were held up in the security line,” I countered. “That Clear sales guy would not let us go.”
“Oh hell, I hear you,” she immediately commiserated. “Get on board. I’m upgrading you to first class, in fact. And I’ll send along some complimentary champagne for your troubles.”
We high-fived her as we jogged down the ramp and boarded.
And, honestly, the good news is that for all the problems of getting on the plane, the flight itself was safe and smooth. And honestly, I'll take that trade every day of the week. In fact, as a bit of karmic balance, we even landed 20 minutes early!
To put a bow on this, my mom and dad picked us up, we had a healthy and nutritious lunch of Culver's famed “Butterburgers,” cheese curds, and frozen yogurt, and that night May, Gracie, and I attended bar trivia (yes, they let 10-year olds in for bar trivia this in Wisconsin) with the family where we did stellar, nailing 4 questions out of 20! We were on fire!
As in, a dumpster fire!
Oh well, at least, Gracie had an amazing run with the claw machine where she walked away with enough of them to start a football team. Complete with practice squad.
