Air travel has never been more challenging and trying than it is today. I think I'm fully qualified to attest to this fact from personal experience. I have logged -- no exaggeration -- over 50,000 air miles in the last year alone.

In my dozen or so treks it has become unwelcomely common for me to literally have to race a mile or more across an airport, sometimes having to pass through security -- which tends to slow down the race -- in order to -- breathlessly -- catch a connecting flight. I have learned to laugh at the experiences, although it is challenging at times to keep the blood pressure at an even keel.

Late flights, early flights, it never seems to make a difference for me. On one flight into Houston to catch a connecting flight to Miami I was supposed -- the key word is "supposed" -- to have an hour to leisurely walk to the gate of my Miami connection. Hah! The Anchorage/Seattle leg was 20 minutes late, and then the Seattle/Houston leg was late by another 35 minutes.

By the time I got off the plane in Houston, I had just enough time to ask the kind airline employee waiting outside the ramp -- "Miami?" -- as I dashed by her while looking back over my shoulder -- she scanned her sheet and yelled out to me -- "Gate C42" -- or some such thing. As I ran, I scanned the overhead signs for the direction of the "C" gates --- it soon became disappointingly clear that the "C" gates would be at least a quarter of a mile away -- finally I saw the sign for the turn to the -- "C1-C50" (??!!) gates -- sheesh! only 42 or so gates to go (okay, maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but not much).

As I turned the final corner I heard -- "Final Call for Flight No. blah blah blah to Miami" -- I raced up to the door and -- well -- what can I say, I couldn't speak -- just huff and puff -- and utter little squeaky noises. Thank goodness the attendants let me on the plane -- I am quite sure that I looked frazzled.

Then there was the flight into Minneapolis that was -- good Lord, 20 minutes early -- I calculated an entire hour and a half of luxurious relaxation, and maybe a bite to eat, as I moseyed my way to my connection -- but, of course that assumed that I would actually get to deplane. When we rolled up to the gate there were no attendants to greet us -- and extend the ramp to the cabin door. We waited, and waited, and waited -- 20 minutes, then 30, then 40 -- then reading became impossible and panic began to set in -- a full hour passed -- then, when they (whoever they were) finally arrived -- I am not making this up -- the tires on the movable ramp "BLEW!"

After they restarted the plane and moved us to another gate (about a mile from my next leg) -- I had exactly 10 minutes to get to my connection. Once again I made it -- barely -- out of breath and squeaking once again of course. The good news is that you can lose weight travelling this way.

I have learned to take my shoes and belt off, and my computer out of my backback, long before reaching the metal detector -- for some cruel reason at some unnamed airports you actually have to go out, and then back through, security in order to get from some arrivals to the next connection in your journey -- then I have learned to run, or I guess it might be described as a hop -- as I put my computer back into my backpack, slip my shoes on, and slide my belt through the loops of my jeans.

I have been occasionally tempted to wear sandles for the ease of slipping them on and off at the metal detector, but, have you ever tried to run a mile at a 10 minute pace in sandles? I fully expect you all to read a headline some day announcing -- "Anchorage Attorney Arrested for Indescent Exposure, Streaking Through Airport" --after my pants drop to my ankles as I'm running and dressing and packing from one gate to the next.

On my last such experience, I raced from one end of an airport to the other (after waiting an hour and a half to get through imigration and for my bags to come out of that little slide ramp). Arriving, I completed the electronic check-in, raced to turn in my bag -- only to be told "you have no tag on your bag, sir." I look at my watch -- 5 minutes until boarding and I am not through security yet -- I have learned to smile alot when talking to airline check-in clerks -- and it never hurts to look pathetic. Better yet, stand up for one of them when an ugly traveller gets on their case -- you'll find yourself in First Class.

But, I digress -- when I smiled at the check-in clerk -- she concentrated on her computer and then said "oh my" -- it's never a good thing to hear these words. "Sir, because you've already checked in, I can't get your bag on your flight" I have the strong urge to conduct some cross-examination -- but I resist -- and just say "please!" -- she concentrates more on her computer screen and then says -- "I can send your bag through Denver." "I'm going through San Francisco...." I say. "But, it will go to Anchorage, just won't get there til ..." some ungodly hour at night. I bite my lip, look at my watch and -- over my shoulder while running, say --"thank you."

The good news is that, all in all, I have found airline employees in virtually all places and with multiple companies to be very kind and understanding and helpful (with only a rare exception here and there). Like the last sweet atendant who gave me complimentary drinks -- I think it was the sweat soaked brow and shirt that got her sympathy.