In the Spring of 2002, I flew to Arizona to visit my friend, Nicole. She had a plethora of frequent flyer miles, so she used them to get me a ticket. I had only been married over a year and my friend had unknowingly booked my ticket under my maiden name, "Karen Applehoff." When I stepped up to the airline counter at Midway Airport, the attendant informed me that she didn't have a ticket reserved under, "Karen Beckley." I quickly figured out the mistake Nicole had made. Luckily, I had my passport on me (which had my maiden name on it), so I was still able to catch my flight.
One week later...
Nicole dropped me off at the Phoenix Airport to catch my return flight. I checked my baggage and carried my backpack to the terminal. If you've ever flown Southwest Airlines, you know that you're not given a seat assignment. Instead, you're forced to stand in line. Seats are given first come, first serve.
I was standing in line waiting to board. I decided to rest and leaned against the glass wall behind me that looked out to the tarmac. The moment I rested, an incredibly loud alarm began to sound. Now, keep in mind this was a few months after the September 11th terrorist attacks. I instantly looked around to see if there was a safety threat in the area and quickly realized that everyone was staring at ME! I looked behind me and noticed that I had leaned on the emergency exit door.
It was amazing how quickly everyone turned on me. The airport and Phoenix city police instantly ran over to me and pulled me aside. At the same time, the airline began to board the plane. People walked right past me checking me out; and one woman even asked me if I was a terrorist!?!
The police asked to see my boarding pass and my identification. I had totally forgotten that the names didn't match. This did not work in my favor. After carefully explaining to them that I was harmless (and clueless), they let me go. At this time, the plane was waiting for me. Because I was the last to board, I ended up with the worst seat on the plane. I will never forget my "walk of shame" down the aisle. Everyone (I mean everyone) stared at me as I walked to the last row of seats in order to make sure I wasn't going to make any sudden moves. I overheard one person whisper, "That's the terrorist!"
I sat down and pulled my Pocket Yahtzee game from my backpack. The woman next to me watched to make sure it wasn't a bomb. She continued to stare at me for the next three hours.
It was a long flight.
