When Travel Goes Bad

 

            Not too long ago I blogged about the joy of travel. However, it doesn’t always go well and in 2018 I had an event that stuck with me for a long time thereafter.

            Ten days prior to this event I had gone to Tokyo on about 10 hours notice. There was an incredible last minute deal using miles and I had no presentations to places to be in that time frame and I found a great hotel at $39 a night so it was a deal far too good to pass up. It was a memorable trip and I’ve awaited the chance to go to Tokyo again, but the waning moments in Japan were highly intense and staggeringly confusing.

            I didn’t want to go home. Being in Tokyo is such a relief for me. There’s a feeling of normality I have there that I haven’t felt elsewhere. As I said, I can’t wait to go back, but this story picks up at the airport as I’m about to head home.

            As usual for me, I got to the airport with more than enough time to spare. A couple hours went by, and it was time to board the plane. My zone was called, my boarding pass was scanned, and as I entered the jet bridge there was a security guy that said my name and waved me to the side. I had never witnessed such a thing and I was on the receiving end of whatever this was. I feared many things, perhaps something bad had occurred and this man was going to be the bearer of bad news. Perhaps someone with my name was a wanted criminal and they thought I was a different Aaron Likens. Through all of my fears I knew that nothing good would come from having my name said directly.

            The security guard spoke no English so when he gave commands in Japanese I had to give signals that I spoke no Japanese. He proceeded to point at my shoes and to take them off. I did so and he inspected them and had me put the shoes back on. Ten seconds later, after ten awkward seconds standing there, he had me take the shoes off again. I did so, and this time he wanted the socks off as well. This was a bit difficult as I had no seat. My carry-on bag was on a small table but that had not been inspected yet.

            It became a dance taking the shoes off and putting them back on. In my fears of what was to happen after being stopped, I must admit dancing with the shoes wasn’t a thought I had. However, my anxiety rose each time I got a leer of disapproval from the passengers boarding. They didn’t know my story and heck; I didn’t know my story at this point in time but they gawked at me as if I were suspected of trying to do something highly illegal to this plane.

            I’ll estimate the dance went on for 10 minutes. I could still hear the announcements at the gate and it was getting to the end of the boarding process. Then, another security man joined the one making me dance and he did speak English. Right away he wanted to see my shoes. Okay, at this point in time, autism spectrum or not, I’m sure anyone would be getting extremely anxious aa to what was going on. This went from minor annoyance to an event that could have severe ramifications. These two really thought something was up with my shoes and I was worried as to what this would be.

            The minutes went by, I heard the “last call for flight…” and I wasn’t on the plane yet. I have to be early and now I was late with no more gawkers walking by. It was just the two security men and me. At this point they now pointed at my bag and asked me to open it. Inside I had an Xbox and a laptop. Xbox? Okay, I’m a bad tourist as I traveled halfway around the world to enjoy some hours of Xbox as well. Much like the shoe dance, the contents came out, went back in, out, in out, and back in again.

            My heartrate was now to the max. Was I even going to fly home tonight, or was I going to get to see the inside of a jail cell in Tokyo for reasons I didn’t even know? The gate door was now closed. I tried to look at my cell phone, but they told me not to do that. I looked through the gate door and saw it was two minutes past the scheduled departure time. At any moment the plane door was going to close, I was sure of it, and I would be left behind with my two pals in the jet bridge.

            It wasn’t too much longer, but there was one last Xbox out of the bag request and this time the English-speaking security guard inspected it himself, made a radio call, and said I was good to go. I quickly put it back in my backpack and gave a shrugged shoulder sign and he said, “We have never seen an Xbox before. We know the Sony PlayStation.”

            With the reasoning behind the slight bit of being detained I headed towards the plane. My pulse was through the roof, and I could feel each beat in my mouth. My adrenaline was rocketing through my body, and I realized I was at a limit I had never been before. Speaking didn’t seem possible and while I maintained my composure in the inspection process I was now on the verge of hyperventilating. It didn’t get any easier when I got on the plane.

            The check of the clock showed 15 minutes past the scheduled departure time. Each pair of eyes on the plane leered at me as the sole reason they were late. All the overhead bins were closed and as I walked to my seat a flight attendant walked up. I pointed upward with a shrugged arms gesture because I couldn’t ask for help and he said, “Sir, if you had been on the plane earlier you wouldn’t have had this problem.” The confusion and rage I had felt in the jet bridge was now gushing outward. I contained it because I’m not going to do anything to make a scene, but to do that I become overly stoic and emotionless. The flight attendant saw this and asked, “Sir, where are you seated?” When I pointed to the seat right beside me, which wasn’t a first-class seat, but it wasn’t the main cabin, he suddenly became helpful and found a place and I took my seat.

            I wish I could say the story ended there, but when I took my seat, I continued to look forward without emotion. I focused on my breathing and tried to purge the adrenaline from my system. It had been a traumatic 50 or so minutes and I just wanted the plane to get in the air and have this night be forgotten. However, my mannerisms or facial expression, or lack thereof, raised the suspicion of one flight attendant who came over and asked, “Sir, are you okay?” I took a moment of thought on this and was a bit overly reflective as I tried to think of an answer. Was I okay? What was the criteria for being okay? Would being wanted for being team Xbox and not PlayStation be considered, okay? I thought of all the sarcastic answers I could think of but again, speech wasn’t happening, and the flight attendant left.

            “Oh, please let this episode end!” was what I thought as what appeared to be a goon squad approached. It was every flight attendant on the plane now crowded around where I was seated. The team lead led out, “Sir, can you fly?” Big mistake with that line because I was at the point of taking everything literally. While I do have 10 logged hours behind the stick of a single engine plane known as a Katana, I would not be anywhere near cockpit ready for an A350. My delay brough about a repeat from the first question and my facial expression was one of befuddlement. Then, finally, the flight attendant was direct and said, “Sir! You are acting strange! You were late on the plane and are you capable of being on this plane?”

            The words hurt. I… was acting strange? I thought that anyone would be in this situation. The person seated beside me was late getting onto the plane as well being one of the last on, and they saw what was going on with me and they chimed in. Perhaps this is a common event with security leaving Tokyo but having someone help out just a bit was a huge relief after this hour of confusion. Because of this I was able to nod at the question and the flight attendants departed and we made our way out onto the runway and into the black of night headed home.

            There are so many takeaways from this story. I’ve wondered since this event as to how much autism training flight attendants get. I know they have a stressful job and in the past two years it seems there’s a new story every week about unruly passengers. However, what skills are taught when a situation like mine arises? I also know security in airports and safety in the air is paramount. If the security process would’ve led with the direct issue at hand with the desire to inspect the Xbox, would that have lessened the ordeal? Maybe they also wanted to see how I reacted to certain commands? Perhaps.

            At the end of this story, I know this has not left me with a bad taste towards travel. I look forward to when I go back to Tokyo and I will not hesitate and jumping at a last minute offer if I have the chance. There is a risk in travel with social snafus happening, but they could happen anywhere. My love of exploring is much greater than the fear of another mystery stop in the jet bridge and I hope you too, the reader, when given the chance will take any chance you can get to step out.