Flying from a small airport is always interesting.

There was an older woman (older than me) with a little oxygen cart fretting that the airline refused to let her check in without a note from her doctor on a specific form. Her daughter had made the reservation and didn't indicate "Special Needs: Oxygen." Had she done so, a new page of requirements would have popped up and the passenger would have known what to do before she got there. There she was, having to track down her doctor early on a Sunday morning to have a letter faxed to the airport. Amazing, but she did get that letter and was able to fly today.

In front of me at the security screening was an 80-something couple who said they had never flown in their entire lives. I suppose it was better for them to do this out of a small-town airport because the TSA agents were very patient with them.

The old guy took forever emptying his pockets, must have had $5 in loose change, and he kept finding more. They asked him if he had a belt on, and denied it, then when push came to shove, he realized he did after all have a belt, so we had to wait while someone helped him take it off. He had a pacemaker and considerable knee hardware, so ended up having a pat-down search. The wife didn't have any special problems, but she didn't look very happy about flying. At least it was a full-size airplane, not some little prop job.

Past security, I was standing in line at the snack bar waiting to buy a bottle of water. There was one woman waiting on everyone - mixing drinks, keeping the beer drinkers happy, making sandwiches. The guy she was waiting on ordered a sandwich, and she had to ask him if he wanted cheese on it. Then, what kind of chips. Sandwich done, he asked for a to-go box instead of a plate so she had to dig that out. Then, he decided he wanted a cup of coffee. Then, he asked if there was any pie. So she cut him a piece of pie. "Do you want it heated up?" she asked, and 5 people standing in line said 'NO!' But he did. So she put it in the microwave, and then squirted about an inch and a half of whipped cream on the top. It was good-looking pie - not some flat little Mrs. Smith's thing - might have been a Marie Callender's mixed berry. One last thing: some milk for his coffee because he didn't want the creamer they had out.

Finally, the plane came and we loaded onto it, taking what seemed like forever, but big surprise, we left on time.

Since they were loading from the tarmac, passengers were able to use the exit stairs in the tail of the plane in addition to the front door. That really speeds up the process, and it's so nice to not have to walk the full length of that long aisle.

I was the last person on the plane, and my small carry-on suitcase ended up getting checked, which was fine, and I didn't have to pay the $10 bag fee (or the $25 it would have cost to decide to check it at the airport).

It was a nice short flight, and I'm glad it's over. It's good to be back home with Mr. Troutbend and the cat, but my heart is in Colorado.