Flight of the Phoenix

By Norah Blucher

When we last parted I had set out to fly en femme, only to be grounded by delays after making it through security and waiting for hours. As I awoke the next morning to try it all again, I half thought of just not bothering to fly en femme, and just get home. It had been a long trip already and I doubt anyone would blame me.

But something told me no. I had overcome a lot in my life to get to this point and could not turn back now. Not everything in life works as we would like and I had no excuse to not give it another go, so just as the phoenix rises from the ashes, I too would conquer this yet and make it home... en femme! (And yes, I love the movie The Flight of the Phoenix with Jimmy Stewart and no, I’ve not seen the new version, LOL).

I did not know it at the time, but this would also mark a profound shift in my thinking and life in general. A shift in which much of my life, barring any true barriers, would be as female.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Returning the rental car and checking in went smoothly as before and I then proceeded to TSA security and as I got in line with all of one person ahead of me, I noted someone different running the ID checks that day.

I smiled and handed her my passport, she looked at my passport and then looked at me. Then at my passport again and then again at me. She did this several times, squinting, holding the passport to the side and so on and the whole thing reminded me of some standoff in an old western movie.

I truly did not know what to think. Part of me was nervous that this was going to be a big deal, but I just continued to look at her and smile, cocking my head a bit as if to say “is there a problem?” As dramatic as it all sounds, the whole ordeal took but 15 or 20 seconds, but seemed like an eternity before she closed my passport and handed it back stating “the eyes match.” I smiled and said “I look a right bit different today, don’t I?” to which I got no reaction. Oh well.

In actuality, I was thrilled over the moon with all this. I mean really, if someone trained in facial recognition had trouble discerning my ID photo from what they saw, how likely was it I would ever be recognized when out and about?

Moving over to the conveyor belt, the same chap as yesterday began telling me to take electronics from my bag and then looked at me and noted “didn’t you come through here yesterday?” I said that indeed I had, but things didn’t work out so I decided to spend another night. He then asked if I was on that delayed flight and said I had made the right choice, as it never came in until around midnight. I said I had a feeling as such and the last thing I ever want to do when dealing with a screwy flight schedule is go further from home.

Walking through the scanner, I set something off again and once more a female agent approached me and checked my wrists and asked me to hold my hair up as she patted around my neck. It was all quick and easy, my bags were awaiting me on the other side of the belt and once again I was in!

Up, Up and Away!

I always find flying to be a crap shoot of sorts and always make a habit of ensuring I have food, drinks and eat a good meal before starting out. Delays, waiting on a runway forever, diverting and so forth are all real possibilities, so I made sure to get prepared as I awaited my flight. This time around everything went as it should though, and without too long a wait, I was boarding the plane.

It was actually an enjoyable flight I must say. I had no seatmate next to me, the weather was fab and views were great. I ate the biscuits they were handing out, the flight attendant was friendly, I listened to some music and as far as I could tell, no one was paying the least it of attention to me.

Before I knew it we were landing in Washington, DC, but most of my flights are not direct, and involve a stop and a plane change somewhere. In not unexpected fashion, the night had just begun.

The Layover

Reagan International Airport or DCA in airport code, is a place I’m at often enough and all in all, it is not a bad place to be and with a few hours to kill, I had plenty of time to look around.

I’d had my heart set on looking at some clothes at the Brooks Brothers’ store and perhaps try some things on, only to find the store had closed. To be right honest, with the way 99% of people dress at an airport, I’m not surprised a store like that failed in an airport. No worries though as I had plenty to browse in the book stores.

I think the highlight, however, was the Smithsonian store. I had always admired the interesting jewelry they sell and had always looked, but today was different. On this day, I actually had them get a few things out for me to try on! I actually came close to buying a necklace, but decided against it. I have to say it was still fun though.

I planned for my final stop to be a meal at Legal Seafood, a place I often enjoy at DCA. It was not horribly busy on a Sunday evening and I had a rather quiet but enjoyable meal and also enjoyed my favorite drink that they make, The Moulin Rouge.

I began to head over to my gate when I checked the flight board and noted I had just been delayed. Here we go again.

If you’ve never seen it, the Tom Hanks movie The Terminal is quite good and the main character, played by Hanks, get stranded at an airport in New York due to a coup in his home country and he is forced to live at the airport. Now I know myself or anyone I know, has ever been faced with that, but some times it feels that way and you just wonder if you will ever get home.

Are We Ever Getting Home?

Flight delays are unfortunately common in my flying travel, so I wandered over to a section of DCA that has some comfortable lounge chairs and footrests to settle in. I was enjoying my time en femme, felt in no particular hurry and pulled out the tablet to watch some shows.

And the delays kept mounting. I had started out with a few episodes of Gilmore Girls before tiring of them and moving on to Absolutely Fabulous. By the time I had digressed to YouTube videos of Essex girl jokes, it was after 10 PM and I just wanted to get the bloody hell home and was not in a particularly comical mood. I checked the flight tracker and noted my incoming plane had not even taken off yet and I truly began to fear I’d be spending another night in a hotel to try again the next day.

Wandering over to the airline service desk I politely inquired if there was an issue and a real possibility the flight was just going to be cancelled. The lady behind the counter looked at me horrified and in a sickeningly saccharine tone asked why I would think such a thing? “I don’t know?” I thought, “perhaps the fact that this particular airline seems to like ditching me has something to do with it?”

None of that was her fault though and I was very polite to her and said I was just checking. I have to say though, when you are in one of the country’s busiest airports and three tracking boards are blank and you are waiting on one of the four remaining incoming flights, it is rather disheartening. Are you starting to see why Norah drives everywhere perhaps?

I was so knackered at this point, I cannot even tell you what I watched on the tablet. I just wanted to doze off, but in these situations they can switch gates on you, find another plane and tell you to board right away or any number of things, so I did not dare doze and wandered into a nearby bathroom to touch up my makeup so as not to scare the other passengers if we did get on a plane.

A female traveler at the airport in Atlanta once told me a great tip about flying to small airports as I often do. She advised booking the last flight out as 1. when flights are cancelled or delayed throughout the day, people keep getting shifted to later flights and it eventually fills up, with priority going to those who booked it originally. And 2. barring some sort of mechanical failures, the last flight is rarely cancelled as they often need the plane for the first flight the next morning. It may get horrendously delayed, but it will usually get you home.

I must say her advice has served me well before and I hoped it would do so again.

Boarding Call

Finally, somewhere around midnight or so I think, a plane arrived and we began to board. I’m not one to get excited until we actually get airborne and thankfully on this night we had no further delays.

I was so knackered at this point I really do not recall much of the flight and think I dozed on and off. I did have a seatmate this time though and there really was not much for interaction between us.

I was so relieved when we finally landed and though I still had a long drive home, at least I knew I was getting home this night. It had been a long ordeal for sure, but it was still elating to know I had finally done it. I had crossed a barrier many of us do not get to and came out unscathed. 

Frequent Flyer Miles?

As thrilling as it was, I must say flying en femme has not exactly become the norm for me. Long days, complex schedules and sometimes meeting workmates on the day of travel, does not always allow for it. I’ve flown a few more time since then en femme, but in many ways, flying was not the most profound.

No, I think overcoming this hurdle though gave me the confidence to do other things. Things which I found more challenging in the end, but which I could not have done without taking a few more steps up the ladder of my own journey.

So loves, though nothing terribly exciting happened in my flying adventure, I hope it did not disappoint. The glamourous days of flying may be in the past, but if you are going to spend a day at the airport, it is a right bit more fun en femme!

Wearing Paige

Paco León femulating on Mexican television’s La Casa de las Flores.