Ugh Atlanta

At Frankfurt Airport I met a nervous bloke called Joey from Nashville. It was his first time flying alone back home, I can only assume that means his mum held his hand the whole way to Germany. We talked a little, I guess I calmed his nerves enough. He made it through to the gates. The flight was pretty normal, a little turbulence, I can’t remember the food.
We flew into Atlanta Airport about 10 minutes late. I thought that an hour and forty minutes would be enough time to go through customs and all that stuff. Our baggage was checked all the way through, what could go wrong?
Getting off the plane took a while, we were ushered into the queue. The security lady in control was friendly. She noticed an old man wearing women’s knee high boots and declared that she was a massive boot fan. She also informed us that she could never afford and never has owned boots, but she’s a huge fan anyway.
The visa line is large and they only had 4 people processing us all. I did some maths and calculated that it took us 15 minutes to move from end to the other so in around an hour we would be through. Naturally, two officers then closed their desks. The hopeful among us assumed that it was a mere moment before replacements arrived. Nope. Some asked the people patrolling the queue if others were coming to work, if those with immediate connecting flights or children could move ahead or elsewhere or something, anything. Nope. To rub some salt into the wound and push the knife in deep, we were informed that we didn’t have to be served, they can and will do what they want AND we could see other officers standing on the other side, backs to us as much as they could, having a good chat and laugh. As we neared the check one more desk opened by we weren’t allowed to use them, they only service packets…
Of course we missed the flight.
A game of “not our fault” came later. The airline says that the security are to blame so they shouldn’t have to cover anything, even though they offer flights that are obviously lacking enough time to change from one to the other. The airport security is of the opinion that you have to allow a minimum of three hours between flights, ignoring the obvious staffing issue. We got a connecting flight the next day for free but had to pay for our own hotel.
In the morning we went for breakfast. A lady ate Grits. I had to ask her what it was because it looked like a bowl of powdered sugar with bits of chocolate. When we returned to the airport, we allowed 5 hours to clear through. We needed a mere 30 minutes. A lady gave her dog some of her cola to drink. While we sat at our flight’s gate, sirens announced a possible security threat…
We’re safe in Colombia.