And then it was more than a bit bumpy as the plane shuddered into the cross winds but as soon as we were aloft the pilot almost immediately turned the aircraft into the wind, we bounced against the clouds for a couple of minutes but then … it was an ordinary flight. About to and a half hours flying over Cuba and the Gulf of Mexico before coming down to land at the hubbub of Atlanta’s enormous airport. I always like coming into the big American airports where you can glance around and see another plane landing and maybe a couple taking off all at different angles. But Atlanta is a nightmare to get around ; it does not matter which terminal block you come into you are all funnelled down to one huge immigration centre. I had a couple of hours before the overnight to London, but still wanted to get through all the airport hassle, and wanted to ensure when I got to the BA check in desk that I was actually booked on this flight back home that night. That was OK but this strange trip (four days in Cayman islands in total) had one final fling at me. Because I was a late booking I was seen as a problem for the Department of Homeland Security. Apparently I was profiled along with terrorists who make late arrangements to try and hide their paper (or these days e-paper) trail. A sticker was put on my boarding pass which in theory meant I was to be taken aside at the airport security gates for a fuller search. But the queues of travellers at the security check were long and the officials wanted to process us quickly, so despite me flashing the boarding pass with the special sticker at them they waived me through. I went and sat down at the gate way down the end of the terminal; already a crowd had formed and boarding was due to start in a few moments. But I was then called to the desk; apparently Homeland Security had picked up that I had not been properly checked. I asked if I needed to go all the way back to the gate (a long way in Atlanta), but they said no; a couple of staff were coming down and I would be taken to a “quiet area” to be discreetly searched.
Imagine the reaction of the other passengers when they saw me being escorted to one side of the gate by two enormous guys in full dark blue body armour; their guns slung round their waists. The quiet area turned out to be at the top of the ramp to the plane. Yes it was quiet when we arrived but as they brusquely (but not unkindly) dealt with me, boarding started and a steady trail of passengers filed by me and saw my hands against the wall being frisked, my shoes off, then hands on head, pockets emptied, one leg up, then the other.
Of course nothing was found and after all the curt statements by the staff while they frisked one of the guys said “Have a nice flight, sir” and I was allowed to join the queue and board. I did get a few nervous looks from the people seated around me that night as we headed north over the eastern seaboard and back over the Atlantic to London.