Passengers flying to the U.S. through airports in the Middle East, Europe and Africa will be asked to power on electronic devices before boarding their flights. The ramped up security comes as new intelligence shows terror groups are working to build bombs meant to fool security screeners. So what happens if the battery on your device happens to run out? Susan Candiotti has the latest.
Philip Mudd is a counterterrorism veteran of the FBI and CIA. He spoke to Wolf about the nature of this threat.
Some air passengers are about to face tougher security screenings before boarding flights to the U.S. The Obama administration is tightening security in an effort to find sophisticated explosives designed to get past screeners. Terror groups smuggled a shoe bomb and an underwear bomb years ago. Both plots failed. Jim Sciutto looks at how authorities are working to stay ahead of the terrorists.
Tom Ridge served as America's first Homeland Security Secretary. He says he believes terror groups in Syria are likely behind this latest threat.
According to Auburn University research presented at an American Society for Microbiology meeting, potentially dangerous bacteria can linger on airplane surfaces for days. The study took a look at two bacteria: Staphylococcus aureus, also known as MRSA and E. coli O157:H7. Senior Medical Correspondent Elizabeth Cohen talked to Anderson about which surfaces the germs can survive on the longest and what precautions to take.
The massive storm that's causing a travel mess across much of the country is about to get worse as millions of Americans make their Thanksgiving getaways. The Northeast is bracing for brutal winds tomorrow that could mean a new round of flight delays and cancellations. It could trigger a domino effect at airports across the country. John Berman takes a look at the holiday weather chaos.
If you get stuck at the airport, do you know your rights? Amy Farley is the news editor for Travel and Leisure Magazine.
A storm that's already blamed for at least 12 deaths is causing problems across the country. Some areas could see nearly a foot of snow, while others are dealing with wind, sleet, and heavy rain. Hundreds of flights have already been canceled, just as millions of Americans begin their Thanksgiving getaways. Jason Carroll has the latest.
What do you do if your travel plans are interrupted by the storm? Wolf spoke with Wall Street Journal travel columnist Scott McCartney.
Approximately one billion people—perhaps slightly less—have recently asked me about what kind of travel gear I use to roam the world and work.
Here’s the thing: I’m pretty basic. I can’t claim complete minimalism, but I’m not really that high-tech of a guy. My strategy is “use what works and keep it simple.”
So here’s what we’ll do: I’ll tell you what I bring with me wherever I go, and the fellow travelers among us can chime in and say what they bring for their own trips.
As regular readers know, I use Frequent Flyer miles to go all over the world several times a year. I’ve written before about how to earn miles without flying, and how you can become your own travel ninja through mass mileage accrual.
Once you earn miles, however, you need to make a plan for using them. One of the saddest facts in the Frequent Flyer world is that every year, millions of miles go to waste. Help stamp out mileage expiration!
Use your miles… but use them wisely. Here’s how.
Wherever I go, I meet a lot of interesting people, but this doesn’t usually happen the way you might assume.
More often than not, I don’t meet anyone through a careful effort to be social (I’m naturally introverted) or through any deliberate attempt at tourism. Instead, it just happens while life is underway.
Here are a few of my recent encounters.
On a flight from Miami to L.A., I sit next to a famous actress. I get the idea that she’s someone special, but since I don’t watch TV and only see occasional movies when on planes, I don’t recognize her right away. As we talk, she tells me the name of the show she’s flying out to work on. We talk for most of the six-hour flight about all kinds of things. She gives me career advice and I tell her how Twitter works. Her work takes her around the world, and we chat about the places we have in common.
I get home and look her up on Wikipedia and the IMDB site. I discover that she really is famous! She’s been in hundreds of movies and shows, including a few that I’ve actually heard of. Oh, and that show in L.A.? It’s one of the most popular ones on network TV right now. I’ve seen the ads, but I’ve never seen it. Now I know someone to look for.
Far away from Texas I meet a Texas oilman, who faithfully replicates ever stereotype I have in my head of what a Texas oilman is like. Over the course of a 30-minute conversation, he tries to sell me on various business opportunities that he is sure would improve my traveling lifestyle. Believe me, the conversation goes on about 25 minutes too long, but I’m trapped. My favorite part comes when he tells me about “this new technology” that allows me to call home from wherever I am in the world. “Uh, Skype?” I say.
No, this is something else and it’s much better, he says. And it only costs $29 a month after the initial $149 setup. He can hook me up with an even better deal if I want. “Uh, Skype is free?” I say.
Yes, but you can do video calls with his service, he says. “Uh,” I start to say, but then I realize that I need to let it go. I dutifully give up. Life is short.
“I’m a Writer”
Whenever a new conversation turns to work, I tell people I’m a writer and I get one of the following reactions:
*General interest. “Oh, that’s interesting. What do you write?” I think this is the most normal reaction. We have a normal conversation and talk about things that are usually somewhat related to something I write about.
*Superstar. I’m a hero! I can do no wrong! These people think I’m like John Grisham or Stephen King. “I read books,” a woman in Atlanta told me once, presumably on the grounds that this was an interesting fact. “Me too,” I said. “I guess we have something in common.”
*Deep suspicion or disregard. This attitude tends to come from people who have odd views about work, and tend to look down on artists in general. They ask where my sponsorship comes from and say “must be nice” when I say I’m independent. (Hell yeah, it’s nice. I make it happen just like every other successful writer I know.) “It’s good you can do that kind of thing when you’re young” is another comment that falls in this category. Thankfully, these kinds of reactions don’t come up that often.
*Absolutely no curiosity whatsoever. This, to me, is the strangest reaction. About 10-15% of people will just say “Oh” and then go on talking about whatever kind of work that they do. I don’t mind this, I just think it’s odd. To each his own, I guess.
My Friends at Miami Immigration
When it comes to immigration and passport checks, these fall into the same general categories as talking about being a writer. On my last trip, I go in and out of MIA three times. The second time I get an immigration guy who is genuinely interested. “How does it work? How many countries are there? Do you have a web site?” he wanted to know.
Well, yes. I do have a web site, actually.
I give him my card. A few days later I show up again, back from another flight to the Caribbean. He doesn’t recognize me at first, but then I hand him the thick passport. “Oh, hey!” he says, then turns to his colleague at the next booth. “Joe, this is the guy I was telling you about. He’s going to every country in the world.”
I smile. It’s good to have friends who work in immigration. I’ll probably get detained at some point, but I don’t think it will be in Miami.
The Contracted Driver
In Ulaan Bataar, Mongolia I discover that almost every car is a taxi. Someone explains that you simply stand on the side of the road and wait for a driver to pull over. You tell the driver where you’re going, and chances are he’ll take you there in exchange for a small payment. After wandering the streets on my last day, I check out of the hotel and take my bags down to the street. Sure enough, a guy pulls over. He speaks no English, but waves for me to get in. I get in and make the universal sign and sound effect for airplane (it involves saying “Whoosh!”).
He repeats the gesture and the whoosh, but the airport isn’t that close, and he wants to make sure he gets it right before we drive off for 20 miles. I point to my bags in the back, make another airplane gesture, and this time I try to make the sound of an airplane taking off. It sounds like nnnneyrrrrrr for a long time down the runway.
He repeats it, I nod, we both laugh, and we take off. Since we don’t share even a few words of the same language, there’s not much to talk about on the way. He’s a good driver, though, and I look at pictures of his children that he shows me when stopped at intersections. The drive takes a while, and I’m wondering how much I’ll need to pay him at the end. I’ve already spent most of my local currency, and have less than $5 left in my pocket.
When we come to the terminal, he holds up eight fingers, which I understand to relate to eight hundred tugrik, the fun currency of Mongolia that has Genghis Khan’s profile on the notes. I have exactly seven hundred left, and offer it to him with the universal is-that-OK? look while making the universal empty-pockets gesture. He accepts, shakes my hand, and waves me off. Good times.
I meet fellow independent travelers from all over the world. In Damascus I travel with a couple from Toronto. We take the bus over from Beirut, hop in a taxi on the other side, and get set up at a hostel. There’s only one room, so I stay with them. Thanks, guys. At 4:30 a.m. on the third day I get up to go to the Damascus airport and don’t meet with anyone, presumably because it’s tiny.
In Eastern Europe I meet a Macedonian couple who used to live in New York. “We like being back at home,” they say, “but we really miss Dunkin’ Donuts.”
In the Dhaka Sheraton I meet a pair of West African gangsters. I ask what they are doing in Bangladesh and one of them says, “It’s not fit to discuss that here.” I get the hint and say goodbye after waiting a few more minutes to be polite.
The Lesson: Don’t Worry, Be Yourself
When I first started traveling independently, I used to worry about arranging things and going out of my way to meet people. Somewhere, somehow I had come to believe that I was supposed to do it that way.
I let go of that worry several trips ago. Now I just do what I want, and often that involves being by myself, writing in coffee shops, or just wandering around. Even if I don’t do anything formal, things tend to come up naturally – from hotel lobbies to Mongolian taxis. The precise balance between planning and spontaneity is something best left to one person to decide on: yourself. Whatever you choose, you’ll probably appreciate it more than if you try to fulfill someone else’s ideas of what your adventures should be like.
When I first started doing media interviews in 2008, I noticed that one question would almost always come up: “Why are you so obsessed with travel?”
(I learned to call it the mountain-climbing question, because it’s the same one climbers are asked about Everest and K2: “Why?”)
The question bewildered me until I got used to it. For a long time, I didn’t know how to answer; the quest to see the whole world was just something that made sense to me intuitively. I like travel, I like goal-setting, so why not put the two together?
I was reminded of this while reading a review of a new mountain climbing book on the Lufthansa flight last week. The journalist complained, “None of these books ever clearly answer the reason why people feel the need to climb mountains.”
I don’t climb real mountains very often, but I understand the desire and appeal very well. I guess if I sat in an office somewhere and read about people climbing mountains, I might want to know more about their motivations too. But because I’m out there working on my own proverbial mountains, I can read about other climbers and think, “Good for them!”
Small Goals, Small Worries
A friend and I were talking about a related subject, and she said, “I think there’s a deep-seated, hidden fear of failure behind the travel quest.” My response: it’s probably deep-seated, but it’s not hidden at all!
Of course I’m worried about failure. It’s getting harder and harder with each country I go to. Crashing into Bangkok is easy; wandering around Baku is… a bit different. It’s not bad, but it’s definitely harder. I know how to overcome my fears, but I’m definitely not fearless.
As I see it, small goals produce only small worries. If something easy isn’t going well, you can suck it up and still get it done. The real challenge comes with a big goal, or a big mountain to use the climbing analogy.
With a big mountain, you know you’re going to need more than just stubbornness. You may get wildly off track. You may encounter unforeseen difficulties. You may even have to come back down the mountain at some point before resuming the climb. Thus, you’re going to need some form of internal motivation.
I doubt that I’m going to get tired of my crazy adventures anytime soon, but even if I did, I’d keep going anyway. I don’t expect that mountain climbers enjoy every moment of the climb, and I bet there are plenty of times they think about giving up. The best ones, however, find a way to keep going even when it’s hard.
Do Your Part, Don’t Worry About the Rest
My theory is: Some things are out of our control, so don’t worry about what you can’t change. But if it’s within the realm of your control, do your part. I can fly over to Azerbaijan and figure out how to take the 15-hour midnight train to Georgia. I can’t control whether the train arrives on time or what happens next, but I can get my ass to the station. I think the universe is cool like that most of the time – show up, do your part, and trust the rest to be OK.
By the way, I’m not saying this perspective is 100% right for everyone. I’m just saying that in my worldview, the concept of an alternative doesn’t exist. Why bother with nuance? Let’s leave that to the people who wonder why mountain climbers are willing to sacrifice so much for what they believe in. I’d rather be climbing.
How about you? Been climbing any mountains lately?