Luggage collected. Exodus. Migration from Gate B27 to B10. Another search (number **five**; J-E wondered if he could qualify for **“Frequently Searched”** miles). They examined the bags and told Mr. Moseler to open a wrapped present for a Moseler sibling in Milwaukee. It was a gift of marzipan candy that to the airport authorities—who had never heard of **marzipan** the same way they had never heard of a **Palm Pilot**—looked suspiciously like brightly colored C-4 explosive with sugar ribbons on top. Mr. Moseler was asked–we're not kidding—to take a **bite** out of each offending morsel right there on the spot, to prove that the stuff wouldn't blow his molars to Kingdom Come (like, if it **did**, they wanted to see him burst like a flaming pinata right there in the check-in line). He courageously refused, and they miraculously let him board without further incident. The new plane finally left at 10:30 a.m., two-and-a-half hours late, that is, if you disregard the twenty-or-so hours that they were **already** late.
The Moselers finally got to Milwaukee and had ten minutes to spend with their family.
Via InstaPundit.Com [1], John-Erik's Airborne Adventure [2]
So let me get this straight—Bush signs an emergency bill giving the airline industry millions of dollars to keep them solvent in the wake of September 11^th [3] and service actually gets worse?
I've even heard they no longer serve food on flights anymore. Not that the food was anything to write home about, nor very satisfying as a meal, but what's the excuse? Afraid of a terrorist using a spork to take over the plane?
Oops, I think I should shut up now.