Aptphobia Part II

My wife recommended that I begin to include a picture with all of my posts. She let me know that my blog is extremely boring with pictures. She's the realist that keeps my feet on the ground. So, this is Eleanor. She was born December 17, 2009 and is the cutest thing on Earth.


My adventures with airports did not stop in Utah. I flew to Illinois several weeks later to visit some friends. I stayed a week and had a great time seeing everyone before I left on my mission. I stayed up late every night- especially the last night. Sitting around the table with my friends the Todd's as we played 'Maw' until the early morning.

After an hour or two of sleep, Carrie and Matt Todd gave me a ride to Rockford where I caught a bus to O'hare Airport in Chicago. I got to my terminal just fine. There were no knives stowed in my bags and none of my bags were over 100lbs--which was good. I promptly found a seat and fell fast asleep...

I woke up and saw that it was 3 minutes before my plane was scheduled to leave. I shook off some sleep and sat up and waited for boarding call. I waited some more. I got antcy about 30 minutes after the flight was scheduled to leave. I walked up to the desk and asked about my flight. They asked if I was Joe Hardie.
"Yeah, that's me." (Man, everyone knows me!)
"Did you not hear us call your name 3 times over the intercom?" (uh oh...)
"No, I...um...fell asleep over there." (For shame...)
"The plane is on the runway, sir, there's no way you can make it on."
Pause
"What should I do?"
"Sir, let's see if we can reroute you."

They did. I ended up spending an extra six hours traveling from O'Hare to Dallas, then to Tulsa, instead of straight to Tulsa. On the up side, I got to go to Dallas for the first time in my life.

This is one of my favorite memories. That might seem strange, but let me explain. I kept the plane ticket and wrote on the back "don't sleep through life." That ticket has become a symbol to me to never rest when there is work to be done and life to be lived. I still take a nap every now and then, but I will never let life pass me by--it's just too good to sleep through.

Optimism Exported.
Joe Hardie

Aptphobia (a fear of airports) Part I

What a country! I'm back and it feels darn good. My good friend Nate Black started his doctoral degree in nutrition this past fall at the University of Hawaii. Before he left, he said, "Joe I need you to to keep exporting optimism. I depend on it!" So thanks Nate for inspiring me to continue blogging. Despite taking a heavy class load, working part time, and having a new baby girl, I think that this blog is important to my sanity.

I am taking a new approach to exporting optimism this year. My aim is to share one story a week from my life. Some of these stories were turning points in my life. Other times they will be just fun stories that illustrate who I am.

2004 was a rough year for me in airports. It all started when I tried to bring my whole dorm room home with me on the plane. I had just completed my first summer term at BYU and was headed back to a different home that I had left. BYU summer term started just 10 days after my high school graduation and the day I left with my mom to travel to Utah, my dad left with a Uhaul for Sperry, Oklahoma. I am convinced that this was an inspired move for my parents, but that fact doesn't make moving any easier on a teenager.

Coming home from an eventful summer to a new place with no friends was like leaving the pool party to go mow your parents lawn (aside: this is much more than a clever simile- there were in fact many pool parties at BYU, and I did in deed mow my parents lawn in OK). Thinking about moving to this new home lead me to not think much at all as you'll soon see. I told my parents that I wasn't going to send anything home, and I was just going to pay for an extra bag on the plane.

I got a ride to the airport from a good friend and walked confidently into the Salt Lake City airport to check my bags. Who knew that bags over 100 lbs are considered air freight? Not I. Who knew that checking an extra bag was twice as expensive as shipping UPS? Maybe I. The kind Delta Employee allowed me to get my 107 lbs bag down to 99lbs, and I headed to the security check point...with two carry-on bags, and 8lbs worth of blankets and cloths underneath my arm.

I was confident that my troubles were behind me. I walked into security with my head held high and a smile on my face. My backpack and blankets went through with no problem. I put my flip flops back on (essential college footwear) and watched as the X-ray technician sent my stuffed duffel bag forwards and backwards what seemed like 8 times. Then he called over a supervisor. He pointed at my bag and said something inaudible. I racked my brain for what I had put in my bag. It held everything that was previously on my desk. I couldn't think of anything that would have compromised others' security on the plane. They pulled the bag over to a secured area and asked me sit down. They pulled out item after item. Socks, pencils, mugs, notebooks, sidewalk chalk, a sidewalk chalk holder, a football, frisbee, a tissue holder in the shape of a bathroom, and other college essentials. They didn't seem to find what they were looking for, however.

They asked me to open the tissue holder. Now, before I go on, you need to understand this object. It is a setup of a toilet, electric razor, blow drier, sink, and mirror. The objects had little red buttons that made noise--a flushing toilet, a mirror breaking, etc. This was pretty much an heirloom passed on from my cooler older brother when he left for college. Receiving such a sacred gift was like a rite of passage to enter into a new phase of life. I had no one to pass it on to when I left for college so I kept it, and thus stayed in my high school-like mind set.

I opened the back of the tissue holder and took out a yo-yo, several packs of gum, a few tissues (used and unused), and...What in the world? How did my buck knife make it in the carry on bag? This knife when unfolded is about 5 inches long. I don't think I used it at all during my first term, but a guy has got to have his knife right? Well I was taken in for questioning and we talked for probably 40 minutes. They looked at the other objects in the bag and noted how deeply the knife was buried. It would have been literally the last object I could have gotten to in the bag. In the end they just laughed and ask how my summer at college had been. They could see from my demeanor that I was not there to hurt anyone, just trying to make the journey home. They allowed me to mail the knife home in a bubble-wrapped envelope and I sprinted to my gate to make my flight. Oh what a way to end a great summer! That's when my airport woes began. I was halfway to aptphobia and didn't even know it.

Optimism Exported.

Joe Hardie