flying when it's Code Orange out

Can you smell me from there? Sorry. I had to throw my deodorant out when I went through security at LaGuardia, on my way to Florida this weekend. (that was friday. I've been odorant ever since)

What's it like to fly when the nation's security warning is at the highest level it's been in for years? Read on, friends, read on.

So you know how all the newscasts were saying "get to the airport at least two hours early"? well, they were very, VERY wrong in my case. I got to LaGuardia at 2:05 for a 4:15 flight and, despite having to pitch my pitstick, got through security in a record-breaking 12 minutes. which left me with two hours and three minutes to sit in the overcrowded, ill-ventilated, unattractive and painfully outdated central terminal of LaGuardia airport for TWO AND A HALF HOURS. With my fellow JetBlue, ATA, AirTran, Spirit Air and CrapFlightsRUs patrons. Many of those hours I sat on the floor because there were too many people waiting around for there to be seats for all of us.

Fine. I can sit on the floor. I'm still a kid. Mostly.

I was, however, not a happy traveler.

When I got on my plane, I thought for sure things would get better. I mean, hell, at least I'd have a seat! Now, Jet Blue is a fun, friendly airline, and we each had TV screens at our seats. Having read EVERYTHING I brought (three plays, two magazines and a book) while I was in the terminal, I was looking forward to some tv -- at least moreso than I was looking forward to playing Elbow War for the Armrest with my teenage middle-seat neighbor. But no. Our plane was so new (i.e., 7 days old) that the direct TV hadn't been hooked up yet.

Fine. I worked on one of three New York Times Crossword puzzles I had brought with me.

Then the folks in the row behind me sat down, and the misery kicked up to level Orange. Two children, perhaps eight or ten at most, sat behind me and talked in voices so appallingly piercing that I thought I might go crazy.

Fine. I put on my mp3 player and wished them off the plane.

Then they started kicking my seat. I tried to grin and bear it. I stifled every urge that led me to believe that strangling a child in this situation would be seen as self-defense. Instead, I turned around, glared at both children, and tattled on them to mom.

Nothing changed. Except they started singing. It was a fine tune, really, one that went splitting through my brain and made my personality ache. As far as I could tell, it was called the Yum Yum Yum song, and consisted of four, perhaps five, different notes, sung at the top of your voice. The lyrics? You guessed it: Yum, Yum, and Yum.

And I doubt that they were singing about the fine cashews we were served.

I arrived in one piece (mostly), had a great time in Florida, and got to the airport to come back a mere hour in advance... and spent 35 minutes waiting to get through security. Figures. And as I was waiting, a family got in line behind me. I wouldn' t have paid them much mind, except there were NINE children (the family was Hassidic) and they all had pronounced NY accents. I knew they would be on my flight, and sit behind me, singing some modified version of the yum yum yum (kippur) song. When I got to my gate, they were lingering there. My heart sank. My nerves started to fray.

Luckily, they got on the flight to Newark!

Irritating children aside (they come when the alert level is any color), I had no notable problems traveling this weekend, other than my sheer lack of toiletries. I hate to check my bags, and if it means I have to smell bad, then I have to smell bad.

Hell, I probably smell better at my worst than the stinky terrorists do at their best. (no deodorant can hide the funk of evil. it's scientifically proven)

Fly on, travelers, fly on. Just bring ear plugs and a lot of reading material.