Sometimes, the smallest thing can ruin your day.

In this case, 20 minutes will do. That's how long a recent plane trip from Rochester to Minneapolis took.

Last Friday afternoon, I set out for St. Louis to catch the weekend series between the Cardinals and my beloved Chicago Cubs. Unlike my previous time flying, when the luggage got lost, I nearly lost something of my own during this short ordeal.

About six weeks ago, I checked on airplane tickets to St. Louis. Because the price was similar to the down payment on my neighbor's Lincoln, I decided to burn some extra frequent flier miles.

With a free ticket came the option of flying out of either the Cities or Rochester. Obviously, I chose the latter. What I didn't know was that I'd be flying on a turboprop, which translated means Tilt-a-Whirl with a stewardess and guys sitting next to you wearing cheap cologne.

Upon going airborne, I really wasn't noticing much of a difference except the prop plane was louder than a jet plane. Not a big deal.

But about a minute later, the red-tailed plane started bouncing round like a red rubber ball. I expected as much. Except that it didn't stop.

Then, an announcement.

"Uh, this is your captain speaking. We're running into a problem with some turbulence today."

Really?

"It's going to be like this all the way up to Minneapolis folks, so we ask that you sit back and enjoy the view and we'll get you there as quick as we can."

The problem with the view was that it kept moving up and down.

And so the plane ride continued. We'd hit a few bumps, followed by a bigger one, then a bigger one yet.

By now, my face is about six inches away from the small air hole, shooting a cold breeze to keep the sweat off. It's not working.

I'm looking across the aisle and Aqua Velva and Brut both have their eyes closed. I tried that and it actually worked. For about 10 seconds. Another hard bump changed all that.

Looking at my watch I figured we only had about five minutes left. "I can hold on," I thought to myself.

Then, an announcement.

"Hi folks. Apologize again for the turbulence, but were in line to land. We're about 15 minutes out and should be on the ground shortly."

Huh? What happened to the 20-minute flight?

By now, I'm actually resigning myself to reaching for the one thing I've never had to use.

The blue and white bag with the coating inside.

Yes, that bag.

I slowly reach my hand inside, opening it ever so slowly and quietly as to not startle my fellow passengers. I didn't want to induce a chain-reaction hurl that started in seat 7A.

The plane starts descending, as my mouth starts to water. Not a good sign, especially when there's not barbeque chicken in front of me.

Finally, just as I'm about to give up all hope, the hardest bang of all occurs.

As the wheels meet the pavement, the plane stops all movements and puts along the runway, then the taxiway before stopping near the jetway.

By now, I just want to know which way to the men's room.

Upon my arrival, I look in the mirror and mistaken myself for someone named Casper.

The rest of the weekend went fine. The Cubs won on Saturday and a good time was had by all.

Except one line from the stewardess still rings in my head. We were about to get off the plane when she gave us all a friendly reminder.

"Please be sure to check for all belongings before leaving the plane."

Little did she know she was almost left holding the bag.

Dan Fields can be reached at 434-2230 or by e-mail at :mailto:dan.fields@austindailyherald.com