On our trip down to Vermont I experienced difficulty with the online check-in at Porter Airlines. After a couple hours and countless tries to register our seats, we made two calls to the customer service centre, who couldn’t resolve the issue, both with wildly different answers as to why this was happening. We gave up and resolved to be at the airport a little earlier than usual to sort this out. We’ve been burned by Porter before and while we still love the service, we know the relationship is a bit abusive.

We arrive at the check in (someone pleaaaase build the tunnel to the airport, like… yesterday – that ferry is the most ridiculous form of transport in the history of travel) and as the clerk looks over my passport, her face smiles wide.

“Congratulations! You’ve been randomly chosen to go through extra screening!” She makes it sound like an extra day on the beach with an extra girly drink. This explains why I can’t complete check in online. Oh ho!

At the screening we go through the pat down, the “I need an adult!” touching, the questions. The agent and I were joking all the way through it so it was a pretty professional/light hearted experience. Then it came time to check my luggage.

Two bags, two inspectors. They tell me they are going to search my luggage in an officious voice. Sure. Whatever. Go. And in they dive.

The one opening my suitcase flips the lid and looks down at the first item of clothing on top of my pile.

Boom. SharkBoy’s pink Mickey Mouse PJs. Right on top.

With a booming voice that makes the other guards stop to look, my agent asks “Are these your pyjamas, sir?”

“No!” I knee-jerk respond. And then realize I may be getting into trouble if I admit that I might have not entirely pack my own suitcase by myself, so I say “They’re a gift!!”

He wasn’t buying it. They finish their search and after I’ve collected myself and as I’m leaving, the agent says “Pleasant dreams!”