Unperturbed, I searched for a flight on Spirit, the budget Airlines we used on our $55 flights to Indiana in August. My hopes were dashed, though; there were no Spirit flights listed for Seattle. The only airline remotely in my budget was Frontier, which has an even worse reputation than Spirit. Still, the cheapest fare on Frontier was $276, a decent price, but a far cry from $55.
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| Allyson Just Before She and Bill Embarked on the Very Long Drive |
It occurred to me to skip the trip because I didn't know how helpful I'd actually be. But Allyson had said it was very important to her that both of her parents be there for this milestone. All of this frantic searching occurred during my trip to lovely Vermont to visit a Girl Scout friend, Allison, whom I have known since first grade. As we trekked from one quirky tourist attraction to another on what her family lovingly calls The Death March of Fun, I had a cell signal approximately 25 percent of the time, and I was desperate to secure the tickets before they were gone. So I turned to my personal travel agent, my budget-savvy little sister, Emily. Over a series of sporadically delivered texts and phone calls between myself, Emily, and my other travel companion, Diana, we managed to purchase the tickets.
"Are you sure you're okay with just a personal item?" Emily asked. "It's over $50 each way if you take a carry-on." I said that for a four-day trip, I figured I could manage with a standard backpack, just as I had on the longer Indiana trip.
I made up some of this unanticipated travel cost by booking a shockingly cheap Airbnb, a single room with a shared living area, kitchen, and bathroom(!) for just $56 a night. I'd never stayed in a facility with a shared bathroom, but the next cheapest option would have cost more than double. After reading every single one of the reviews, all positive, I clicked Reserve, resolving not to mention the details of my accommodations to my mother until after my safe return.
Finding a cheap rental car was easy. I used my American Airlines AAdvantage membership to secure the discounted rate of $242.10 for four days—a steal!
The final phase of my budget travel planning was the most challenging: planning a menu consisting of cheap food that I could pack into a lunch bag the size of an average purse. On the Wednesday night before my departure, I made Buffalo chicken in my mini slow cooker while I boiled two eggs, baked my favorite gluten-free sandwich bread, and whipped up a batch of chia pudding, which I topped with some frozen pomegranate arils. While the bread baked, I carefully tucked a pair of casual pants, a hoodie, a pullover sweater, two nighties, some socks, and a stack of panties into my backpack. I figured I could wear the cardigan and the fleece jacket that I would need in the much cooler Northern climate, rather than carrying them in my bag.
The next morning, I sliced the bread and then baked some chocolate chip almond flour brownies while I frenetically unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher. Next, I contemplated what container I could use for the chia pudding. I was fairly certain I couldn't use the glass yogurt jars that would have been the perfect compact size, and I couldn't find any small plastic containers. I considered leaving the pudding behind, but I remembered how the chia pudding I purchased on the way home from Vermont had been the highlight of my airplane meal. Besides, I'd used the last of both my organic chia seeds and my homemade cashew milk for this pudding, and I didn't know how long it might last in the fridge.
I finally settled on a stainless steel bento box that I hoped would be relatively watertight. I filled the two square compartments with most of the pudding and polished off the remainder even though I wasn't hungry. It was just as good as the pudding I'd bought at an organic co-op in Vermont! The long, rectangular compartment was perfect for nestling in the last couple tablespoons of some grass-fed, organic butter which I'd need for my toast and deviled eggs the next morning. I firmly pressed the metal lid on with a satisfying click.
After just two attempts at arranging the contents, I found that my adorable owl-print insulated lunch bag, handmade by my friend Jane, could just accommodate the eggs (still in their shells), a PBJ sandwich, four more fresh slices of bread, a tin container of Buffalo chicken, four brownies—still warm—and a diminutive Blue Ice cooling cube. I carefully zipped the bag shut and tucked a set of plastic cutlery in the outer pocket. Lots of room!
But then I remembered the silicone bag with two servings of dry oatmeal and the vacuum packs of turmeric basmati rice and Madras lentils I'd bought on sale at Walmart. Thankfully, there was just enough space in my backpack to squeeze these items into the stack of underwear in the center compartment. At the last moment, I remembered to grab my driver license, some cash, a credit card, my insurance card, and my health savings account (HSA) card. These I zipped into the outer pocket of the backpack. All set!
I arrived just under the recommended two hours ahead of my on-time 12:40 flight and was pleased to find a short line at security. Everything was shaping up for a smooth departure. I loaded my things into a bin, meticulously following all the instructions. Shoes: off. Pockets: empty. Legs splayed wide, I stood on the footprints inside the rotary body scanner and held my hands in a triangle over my head, just like the image silhouetted inside the glass in front of me. After a quick whirring sound, I was cleared to exit, arriving at the conveyor belt precisely as my meager luggage emerged from the scanner. Smiling at this good fortune, I pivoted and reached for my bin—which had vanished.
Perplexed, I craned my neck to peer into the dark recesses of the scanner. Had they pulled it back inside for a second look? Apparently not; two more bins exited the scanner, but mine did not reappear.
Uneasily, I padded in my stockinged feet to the end of the belt and looked on the other side of it, where more security personnel worked busily.
"Could you help me find my...?" I asked tentatively. "Oh, there it is."
"Is this your bag?" an agent asked sternly, gesturing to my pretty owl bag.
"Yes, that's my lunch bag," I admitted meekly.
"We need to search it."
"Okay."
"What's this?" he asked, pointing to the steel tin.
"Would you like me to open it?" I asked, forcing a cheerful tone. He nodded. I pulled off the cracked plastic lid to reveal a very unappealing looking glob of unnaturally orange meat with mysterious white blobs mixed in—cottage cheese that I'd added to cut the heat.
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| The Chicken on My Homemade Bread, a Few Minutes Later |
"It's Buffalo chicken," I said, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks. "With cottage cheese."
"And this?" He pulled out the bento box. "What's in here?"
I awkwardly pried off the steel lid, and a bit of chia pudding splatted onto the stainless-steel worktable.
The man's brows lowered, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What is that?"
"It's chia pudding," I said.
"Chia pudding?"
"Yes. For my lunch."
He eyed me quizzically, as if no one had ever packed pudding in their lunch before, or perhaps because he couldn't imagine why someone would make pudding out of chia seeds.
"I packed as much food as I could," I explained. "I'm trying to make this as cheap a trip as possible because..." My voice trailed off without explaining that I was a single woman whose daughter was moving across country to start college, paying out-of-state rates. I figured talking too much would arouse suspicion.
With a gloved hand, the man gingerly nudged the container, causing the pudding to jiggle. "It's pretty liquid-y," he said, indecision in his voice. I could see him battling with the desire to follow the rules even though I looked pretty harmless... and pathetic.
Maybe if I offered to throw it away, he'd decide that it was harmless and let me keep it, I reasoned. "Do I need to... throw it away?" I asked in a tiny voice.
"Well... It's probably fine, but we have no way to measure the quantity. I can't tell if it's over 3.4 ounces."
I knew very well that I had made over 8 ounces of pudding, but I pressed my lips together and crossed my fingers for luck.
He sighed. "I'd better throw it away."
"I understand," I said, with a sigh of my own. "Can I keep the butter, though?"
"I guess you can."
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| My Lonely Bento Box |
I had to stifle a groan when he opened my backpack upon his return. Sure enough, his eyebrows rose when he encountered the food tucked in with my underwear.
This time, I felt compelled to explain; what kind of normal person hides rolled oats and rice in their unmentionables? "I'm helping my daughter get settled in her dorm. I'm trying to make it a cheap trip, and I didn't even check any luggage-"
"It's fine." He smiled as he zipped the bag shut. I realized, then, that he had surely seen far more embarrassing things in people's bags. "Have a good flight," he concluded, handing me my bag.
"Thanks," I mumbled as I sheepishly wiped the chia pudding off the table with a paper towel he'd handed me so that I could clean off the sloppy tin before repacking my lunch bag.
I hurried away with flaming cheeks, happy to never see this man again.
You can imagine my chagrin when I had to return to table under a minute later. "There's only one shoe in my bin," I said. I didn't mention that this was the only pair of shoes I'd brought. I tried not to panic while I waited for him to search the area. Would I be allowed to board a plane with only one shoe?
Just then, an agent on the other side of the conveyor belt held up a black shoe. "Does this belong to anyone?"
"It's mine!" I called, trying not to stumble over my unevenly shod feet as I rushed over. "Thank you!"
Despite the delay from the interrogation, I arrived at my gate with plenty of time to spare. Even though I understood that the security agent had only been doing his job, I felt the need to vent to my recent travel buddies. We had the following conversation by text.
Me: Airport security confiscated my chia pudding. 😢
Diana: What the heck?
Me: Too liquid-y. Boo!
Diana: Bummer!... You seem like such a threat!
Allison: Did you chug it?!
Me: I didn't think of it until after. I could have eaten it. I had time!
Diana: The "CHIA BOMBER"
Me, Allison: 🤣
Me: I just force fed myself one of my sandwiches because I'm afraid Frontier won't let me carry on my lunch bag. I've decided that, if that happens, I will try to layer on 3 shirts and a sweatshirt and then stuff the lunch bag in my backpack. Fingers crossed! 🤞
Diana: Yes!🤞
Thirty-seven minutes later...
Me: On board with my lunch bag. Woo hoo!
The flight was great, other than getting a sore heinie from the paper-thin seat cushion. I felt pretty smug eating my home-cooked food while other, less fortunate travelers paid exorbitant prices for paltry snacks.
I'm so glad I got that trouble with security out of the way, I thought. Surely the rest of my trip will go smoothly.
Ha! It's a good thing I had no way of seeing the future. But that's a story for another day.
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