Prelude...

Monday, December 30; 1:00pm Mountain Standard Time- American Airlines check in counter.

The nice lady behind the counter looks up and smiles at me- "I don't see kayaks on the list." "I have flown with kayaks on American before," I counter. "Hm..." she says. Tappity tap tap tap (that is what airline clerks do when they are trying to look official)... At this point the neighboring clerk leans over and offers a bit of gossip- "You remember that big ruckus over a kayak several weeks ago." "No, what was it?" asks the first clerk. "Well, they refused to load it"- at which point clerk two does a bit of tappity tap tap tap and then points to her screen- "Memo to check in staff..." she reads. "Hm..." says the first clerk, who is really trying to help me. "Perhaps we could call it a windsurfer..." "Right." I said, "A windsurfer. Isn't that what I said?" Wink wink, nod nod. "But I'll have to ask the shift supervisor..." And she leaves.

Meanwhile, bedlam reigns. Apparently a bunch of flights are taking off at the same time, and several flights to Dallas were just canceled, so there are plenty of angry folks waiting in line. Soon my clerk returns with a mousy little guy with thinning hair, round glasses and an agitated gait.

Tappity tap tap tap. He looks up at me and says, "We don't take kayaks." I looked him straight in the eye and said "Yes you do. I have flown with kayaks twice in the past on American Airlines." Tappity tap tap tap- "That's not our policy." "Just when did your policy change?" I ask. "It's been that way for a long time." He says. "A friend of mine flew with her kayak just a month ago" I said. Apparently Mr. Mousy isn't aware of the memo, and I'm not about to point it out. "We just don't take kayaks, is there anyone here you can leave it with?" He states, but not very assertively. "No." I reply. "Well, can you call some one to pick it up?" Even more hesitation in his voice. I'm winning... "Listen," I said, "The whole point of this trip is to go kayaking in Argentina. There are not any kayaks in Argentina <that was a fib, but Mr. Mousy doesn't have a clue as to what a kayak is, much less how many of them exist in Argentina>, and so if you will not let me take my kayak I may as well not go." He hesitantly offers "I can give you a refund..." I give him the harry eyeball- "I am meeting people there, the trip is all arraigned." He looks down. Tappity tap tap tap. Meanwhile people are tripping over my kayak, my other bag is blocking the baggage scale, and the line is growing longer. "You take windsurfers, don't you?" I query. "Yes." he replies. "Well, a kayak is just like a windsurfer- same size, same price." I say. "But it has a seat." he says. "What??!!" I asked, giving him the hairy eyeball. Mousy gives me a resigned look. "Let me see it." he says, walking around the counter. I unzip the bag and show it too him- "35 pounds of rotomolded polyetheline." "What?" he asks. "Plastic. Its a big hunk of plastic." Mousy grabs the bag ticket, tags my kayak, and starts hauling it away, all the while muttering about kayaks and windsurfers. I follow him back out the door, half expecting him to toss it on the curb and leave it there, but he puts it in a big bin, tells one of the sky caps to take care of it and stomps off. The sky cap rolls his eyes and looks at me. I hand the sky cap $5 and ask him to make sure that my boat gets on the plane. "No problem." he says.

Two hours later I am anxiously watching the bags being loaded on to the plane. One of the last carts pulls up to the loading ramp, and I am a bit nervous. The baggage handler opens the curtains and looks inside the cart. He then waves at one of the other handlers and makes a big O with his arms, then spreads them. That looks like a good sign to me. Sure enough, the other handler walks over, and they lift my kayak out of the cart and on to the conveyor. With just a hint of smug satisfaction I watch it enter the airplane cargo door.

"Now boarding all rows, all passengers for American flight 1006 to Miami..."