I got my bags out of the bin and followed her into the jetway. “Why?" I asked, “Is this a random security check?"
She said, “The captain refused to have you on this flight."
We walked up the jetway, me now realising I'm probably going to miss this flight, and wondering, What in the world is going on? In the terminal, she pointed me to the black vinyl seats. “Sit there. A supervisor will come talk to you."
I'm waiting here, perplexed, looking out the window as the plane I should be on backs away from the gate. I know this airline has no more flights to Chicago for ten hours. I demand, “What's going on?"
The gate agent says flatly, “A supervisor will talk to you."
I sit back down. Suddenly it hits me: My friend had been ordered out of the line for a baggage check and thus boarded the plane much later than I. When he came on the plane, I asked, “Why were you stopped? Was it your beady terrorist eyes? Explosives?" My friend shook his head quickly, getting me to shut up, but I'd already said those things. THAT was what was causing this.
Soon four uniformed San Francisco cops, revolvers on their hips, walk up to me. “Do you know why you're here?"
"No," I reply. “I was hoping you'd tell me."
"Isn't there anything you said that caused you to be here?"
"Well," I said, “I did make a comment to my friend about looking like a terrorist. I know I shouldn't have said that. I was just making a private joke."
The cop, steel hair and strong jaw, shoots back, “You can't joke about those things. They may not allow you to fly again in the future."
Another cop grills me. One takes my driver's license and runs a criminal background check. Another calls the FAA to see what they want to do with me. A senior airline rep pulls the cops aside and talks about me. All I can hear is, “What did he tell you?" and “Well, they're gone, so we can't confirm what they heard."
I'm wondering, Am I going to be arrested? Are they going to make me fly on another airline and buy another ticket, probably tomorrow? Are they going to strip-search me?
Finally, the senior airline rep comes over. “Who was your friend?" I told him the name. “How do you spell that?" He disappears, probably to check whether that name matches the passenger manifest for the flight.
Great. Now I've gotten my friend in trouble. They're going to hassle him and question him when he lands in Chicago.
One cop looks down at me, arms folded. “So they let your friend go on the flight and not you, huh?"
"Well," I mumble weakly, “he didn't say something stupid. I did."
The airline rep returns. “You realise that you can't talk about these things. We're in a new day."
"I know that," I said. "It was stupid, and I shouldn't have said it."
"Another passenger overheard you and refused to fly on the flight. The captain was told, and he made the decision to remove you from the flight."
Gulp.
"We've decided to let you fly again on our airline. The next flight out is at 11:30 tonight. You'll get into Chicago at 5:30 in the morning.
Inwardly I groan, but quickly say, “Thank you."
The lead cop looks down at me: “You win the prize for Idiot of the Day."
So I sit in the San Francisco airport for nine-and-a-half hours, losing an entire night's sleep. All because of a few stray words.
"If anyone is never at fault in what he says, he is a perfect man, able to keep his whole body in check." James 3:3
by Kevin Miller
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