I am standing in line at the airport, waiting to check my bags and head for my flight. My palms are sweating, and I nervously rehearse the question-and-answer session in which I know I will shortly be engaged with the check-in agent. No, I’m not carrying any contraband, nor do I have any evil designs on the airline or my fellow passengers. I am simply trying to smuggle my bicycle onboard without paying up to $100 in excess baggage charges.
The case I am using to transport my bike (along with my helmet, bike shoes, and a few other accessories) weighs less than forty pounds. Paying $50, $80, or even $100 for the privilege of bringing it on board offends my sense of principle. It’s not like my bike gets its own seat and complimentary beverage service! Golf clubs weigh as much but are not charged simply for being golf clubs. Why this bicycle discrimination? My resolve to escape an unfair charge thus bolstered, I step up to the check-in desk. I lift my large bag as if it weighs nothing and set it confidently on the scale. Now here come the questions, inevitable, given the bulk of the bag.
“What do you have in there?” This is the moment I’ve rehearsed. A good answer, and a little luck, will see me on my way without having to pull out my wallet. I try for a nonchalant tone and reply, “Oh this? Just conference materials.” (What is a bicycle race but a sporting conference? I feel secure in the veracity of my response.)
If I’m lucky, and the check-in agent is either preoccupied, lazy, or simply in a good humor, the questioning will end here. My bag will be tagged and I will heave a sigh of relief and head for my gate. If, however, it’s a bad karma day, there will be more hurdles. “Conference materials? What exactly is it?” My palms sweat more and I stall a bit by rifling through my handbag for my passport. “Oh, the bag? It’s sporting goods,” I toss out cagily, and immediately go on the offensive by asking her a few questions. “Is the flight on time? Is it full? What’s my seat assignment again?”
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