Once my flight arrived at the Oslo Airport, we taxied to the gate, and left the plane, and walked through a series of glass and wood hallways, down into the lower level of the airport. There were two lines for the Immigration, one for European Union citizens, and one for all others. The line moved quickly, and after a couple of simple queries, I was allowed entry into Norway.

I proceeded to the baggage claim area, and located a baggage cart. After a short delay, an assortment of bags came up from the bowels of the airport, and tumbled onto the conveyor circling the baggage claim island. The luggage was slow coming off the airplane, spilling forth in brief spurts between long periods of nothing. I wasn't worried, but it was getting annoying that so many others had retrieved their bags while I sat idly by watching. I made some idle chit-chat with some American woman that was also waiting for her luggage. We were just passing the time and joking about how long it had taken. She asked me when my connecting flight was. I was not sure what time my next flight was, so I pulled out my Itinerary and looked. Checking my watch, I was stunned to realize that I had only 20 minutes until my connecting flight to Trondheim.

At this point a mild amount of panic began to set in. My mind was running through the possibilities and alternatives. From that point on, everything seemed to be in slow motion, with every second ticking away seeming like an eternity. After another 5 minutes, my bags finally spilled out of the mouth of the baggage conveyor, and I pounced on them like a hungry leopard.

With my bags on the cart, I turned to follow the stream of people leaving the area. I was not even sure where Customs was, but it had to be in the direction I was heading, since there was no other way to go. By the time I located Customs, I had already passed through. There was no inspection, no questions, no Security people, nothing. I found myself wandering in the main body of the airport.

I looked for the place to "Re-check-in" and located it just a short distance away. I was shocked to see that there was a long line, stretching all the way to the center aisle of the airport, and it was less than 15 minutes until my flight was scheduled to depart. I was now beginning to really panic. I took my place at the end of the line, but I walked to the front of the line to make sure that it was the right place for me to be. I paced back to my cart, and back again to the head of the line. I finally attracted the attention of the man behind the counter, I asked the man at the counter if there was anyway that I could move to the front of the line since my flight was leaving in 12 minutes. He told me to take my suitcases directly to the gate, and went back to talking with the Norwegian woman at the front of the line.

Well, that was great advice, but I would have liked a few more details. Unfortunately, the guy had returned his attention to the Norwegian woman, and I was on my own.

I wandered back out into the main center of the airport, trying to locate the Departures. Eventually it occurred to me that "Utgang" sounded a lot like "Outgoing", so that must be it. I wheeled my cart into the elevator, and up to the second floor, and there were all the security (Vektor) people and the x-ray machines for baggage.

I checked the wall of TVs for my flight number and gate number. It showed that my flight was scheduled to leave about 10 minutes later than originally planned, so I still had at least 10 minutes before it took off.

I left the cart at the entrance, and carried all four of my bags to the x-ray machine, and placed them on the conveyor belt, one at a time, and walked through the metal detector. As my largest bag passed through the x-ray, it was grabbed by a young security man, who clutched it to his chest.

Now I know that you can't take a knife onto an airplane, but I had brought a pocketknife with me, and I had stored it inside one of my shoes, inside one of the pieces of checked luggage. I had visions of trying to find which shoe the knife was buried in, and trying desperately to repack the bag in a hurry. I did not like the idea of having to give away my favorite old pocketknife, but I was running out of options and time. It was not looking good.

I explained that the knife was in one of the checked bags, but that the man downstairs had told me to go directly to the gate since I had about 10 minutes until my flight left.

The young man looked rather confused, and looked around for someone to help him, all the while holding my bag to his chest as if his life depended upon it. Eventually, he decided that he should find a guard to escort me (and my bag) to the gate. He said that he needed to find a guard, and he walked away, with my bag held firmly in both hands. I followed him like a little lost puppy dog. Remember that I am carrying two carry-on items, plus one regular suitcase. He entered a private Security area, and I stopped at the door, unsure of whether I should follow him or wait. Of course by this time, panic is in full bloom, and I am sweating profusely, just the sort of thing that attracts the attention of Security types at an airport.

When he returned, he was still alone, and he muttered something about not being able to find anyone. That pushed the panic meter even higher, as I again reminded him that my plane was leaving in 10 minutes.

He found a supervisor (or a Supervisor found us) and he began to explain the situation. I interjected the fact that my plane was leaving in 10 minutes. The Supervisor finally just told the young man to take me to the gate, and pointed us towards the right, towards the Northwest Airlines gates. (my guess is that he saw the NWA tags on my suitcase) I told them that I was flying Braathens, and that the gate was to the left. The Supervisor eyed me warily, and with a long deliberate stare he looked me up and down. Then he issued a short Norwegian command to the young man, and he turned and walked away.

The young man, still keeping a deathgrip on my bag, turned and walked towards my gate, my escape.

Fortunately my gate was the first one down the concourse, so we were there in just a minute or less. There was a long line of people with tickets in hand, lined up to enter the plane. There was a slender young brunette woman taking their tickets, and pointing them down the jetway towards the airplane.

The young security man strode purposefully to the front of the line, and said something to the woman. Her eyes got big, and she reached out her hand towards me. I handed her my ticket, and she stuffed it into a slot and looked at me, saying nothing. She did not give me a boarding pass or anything, she just looked at me.

As we had approached the line of people, and had cut in front of all of them, I first was afraid to look at their faces, for fear that they would be angry that I had cut in front of them. As I walked on down the jetway, following the young man, I realized that they must think that I am someone special, special enough to have my own Security escort carrying my bag to the airplane. I chuckled as I hurried after him.

Halfway down the jetway, the young man stopped and pointed to a small set of stainless steel doors near the floor, saying that we should push the bags "down there". I looked through and saw a steep metal ramp that ran down to the tarmac. I turned and suggested that we should check to make sure that someone was down there first, with visions of my bags heading to France while I flew north to Trondheim. He assured me that there was always someone down there. I gulped, and tossed my bag down the chute. He relinquished the deadly cargo into the unknown below the jetway.

Without a word, he turned to me, smiled and walked away. I was so relieved to be getting onto the plane on time, that I didn't think about slipping him a few bucks until after he was already gone. Tipping is not common in Norway, and I had no Norwegian money with me, but I wish that I had passed him some cash. If I ever see him again, I will be sure to give him some money as a thank you.

I walked down the jetway, selected a seat on the plane, and settled in for a short peaceful flight, with just one nagging worry about whether my bags were making the same flight.

All's well that ends well, but I sweated off ten years of my life in that tense 20 minutes. If you are ever flying through Oslo, make sure you have plenty of time between flights, you never know what can happen.