At the airport

I spent my weekend in Boston, celebrating my mom's birthday, snuggling with my little nephew Luke, The Wonder Baby.  I can't say I was in a hurry to return.

At 6:20 yesterday evening, Sissy dropped me off at Logan Airport.  By 6:25, I was grabbing for my bag at the check point when a uniformed man said, "Wait just a minute, please."

What was this?

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to search this suitcase.  I'll be waiting for you over there while you gather the rest of your things."

Great.  Perhaps they thought I was on drugs, since my eyes were red and puffy from saying my tearful goodbyes?  I hopped into my boots and headed toward the table, where the man was putting on a pair of blue rubber gloves.  I overheard him joking with a female coworker who had just commented on his gloves.  I can't quite quote him verbatim, but he basically told her he would not like to have a job where he performed anal cavity searches.  Too much?  I thought so. 

I had thirty minutes to get to my plane.  The man told me I wasn't allowed to touch the bag, and if I felt uncomfortable we could go behind a screen for privacy.  Being contraband free, I assured him this wouldn't be necessary.

I gave an inward cringe as I watched those blue gloves paw through my clothing.  I made a mental note to remember that the clean underwear in my suitcase was no longer clean.  I guess the man sensed my unease.  "Don't feel embarrassed, I have a girlfriend." 

How nice for him. 

In the end, it was my Oil of Olay that had caused all the trouble.  Oddly, nobody had stopped me at LaGuardia.  "I'm going to have to confiscate this, this bottle is too many ounces."

"Really?"  Perhaps I was stepping out of line, but I felt the need to add, "It's just, that's a brand new bottle.  It cost me eleven bucks."

"Tell it to the judge, little lady."  Ok, he didn't actually say that, but I sensed that he wanted to. 

He gave me the option to check my bag, but I declined.  After passing my suitcase through the sensors one last time, just be to sure, I was on my way. 

I write this while sipping coffee out of the Luke mug Sissy made for me.  (It has an adorable picture of him on it and says "I love Auntie Sissy".)  I have wet hair, dry, unhydrated skin and puffy, bloodshot eyes.  (In other words, I look really, really pretty.)  Time to go to work...

xoxo

Comments

[Amy]

They did that to me once....the man pulled my bra out of the bag and it got caught on the zipper. It snapped and hit him in the hand. He was more embarrassed than I was.