I was going to call this travel observations and insights but insights is just too laden with meaning for my travel logs.
How to turn a cheap-ass sandwich sized "zip lock" baggy into a mean spirited travel hell experience.
In the Grand Cayman baggage check both of our bags were held aside for inspection. I frantically tried to recall if I had any illegally large sized liquid items - anything over 3 oz. - and I recalled my sunscreen purchase in the previous airport AFTER baggage check. Oops. But, John was being checked too. This is kind of like a Twilight Zone episode. In the Grand Cayman Island Airport all of your liquid items must be your typical 3 oz. limit. We've all learned to live with this weird-ass requirement; along with taking off your shoes. We are with the program. We support Homeland Security plus we know if we say any wise-ass remarks about these rituals to combat terrorism we'll get pulled aside for questioning. So, we just do it.
Proud member of Great Britain, the Grand Cayman have an additional requirement: all the less than 3 oz. items must fit inside a sandwich sized baggy that must be fully zipped. And, it must be in their regulation cheap brand of baggy that wouldn't cover a paper thin PB&J.
Hmmmmm. I have many beauty aids. The day face cream along with the night one. The special trauma treatment for my fried platinum blond hair and special gel. Let's not forget the facial cleanser for extremely dry and sensitive skin. Oh, mascara counts as a liquid too?!?!? By the end I was tossing out my toothpaste, a tiny bottle of fancy shampoo from a high end hotel from some trip or other and anything else I thought I could live without. I kept desperately trying to zip the fucking bag. The woman in charge of this mayhem was relentless in her need to see the bag fully and completely zipped from one end to the other. She even closely inspected my deodorant to see if it was marked solid or liquid. Mine, thank the gods was solid; John's on the other hand was liquid. We'll see how that goes over in the next few days.
Finally, I succeeded! It zipped.
We then trotted over to the next line and were told we had to go BACK and start over because we were missing paperwork. Cliche warning: if looks could kill. I starred daggers at the woman. Thankfully John turned on his charm that quickly turned into Brooklyn "just try and make me do anything I do not want to do" and another woman nearby laughed and smiled and said we could take care of it up ahead, which we did.
We arrived in Havana and are staying in the stunning Hotel Nacional in the Sara Montiel room overlooking the sea wall. Waves crashing and drinks delivered. We made it. Now for the real adventure.
How to turn a cheap-ass sandwich sized "zip lock" baggy into a mean spirited travel hell experience.
In the Grand Cayman baggage check both of our bags were held aside for inspection. I frantically tried to recall if I had any illegally large sized liquid items - anything over 3 oz. - and I recalled my sunscreen purchase in the previous airport AFTER baggage check. Oops. But, John was being checked too. This is kind of like a Twilight Zone episode. In the Grand Cayman Island Airport all of your liquid items must be your typical 3 oz. limit. We've all learned to live with this weird-ass requirement; along with taking off your shoes. We are with the program. We support Homeland Security plus we know if we say any wise-ass remarks about these rituals to combat terrorism we'll get pulled aside for questioning. So, we just do it.
Proud member of Great Britain, the Grand Cayman have an additional requirement: all the less than 3 oz. items must fit inside a sandwich sized baggy that must be fully zipped. And, it must be in their regulation cheap brand of baggy that wouldn't cover a paper thin PB&J.
Hmmmmm. I have many beauty aids. The day face cream along with the night one. The special trauma treatment for my fried platinum blond hair and special gel. Let's not forget the facial cleanser for extremely dry and sensitive skin. Oh, mascara counts as a liquid too?!?!? By the end I was tossing out my toothpaste, a tiny bottle of fancy shampoo from a high end hotel from some trip or other and anything else I thought I could live without. I kept desperately trying to zip the fucking bag. The woman in charge of this mayhem was relentless in her need to see the bag fully and completely zipped from one end to the other. She even closely inspected my deodorant to see if it was marked solid or liquid. Mine, thank the gods was solid; John's on the other hand was liquid. We'll see how that goes over in the next few days.
Finally, I succeeded! It zipped.
We then trotted over to the next line and were told we had to go BACK and start over because we were missing paperwork. Cliche warning: if looks could kill. I starred daggers at the woman. Thankfully John turned on his charm that quickly turned into Brooklyn "just try and make me do anything I do not want to do" and another woman nearby laughed and smiled and said we could take care of it up ahead, which we did.
We arrived in Havana and are staying in the stunning Hotel Nacional in the Sara Montiel room overlooking the sea wall. Waves crashing and drinks delivered. We made it. Now for the real adventure.
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