My morning’s confidence should’ve been a giveaway. But, no. I confidently assured my fellow travelers, who had to go through airline security with a baby, that I’d wait on the other side of security for them.
After all, I have TSA PreCheck. I didn’t have to shed my shoes or jacket. The TSA people in my line always brought me chocolate mints and an arm flourish as I walked through. (OK, I might have exaggerated that part.)
But that morning, I cleared the metal detector with no problem, only to watch my carry-on bags slide to the other side of a glass wall.
How was I supposed to get them over there?
Some Good Sense…
I did have the good sense not to reach over the barrier or I might be writing this from a cell.
Before long, I realized that the other side of the glass wall was reserved for suspect bags.
Like mine?
They were flagging quite a few, so I stood by patiently–which of course I always do (stand patiently, I mean)–until they got to my bag.
The attendant peeled back the zippered cover and went digging. She snagged my shaker bottle with the plastic bag of powder stuffed inside.
“That’s just protein powder,” I said. She didn’t even look at me. Instead, she scurried to another counter, dipped a small sample out of the bag, and dripped something onto the powder from a bottle that looked like it held eye drops.
“It’s protein powder,” I said. In case they were confused.
Nope. Not confused. My powder tested positive for something–they didn’t know what when I asked–and so my suitcase innards, my electronics, and I all got a pat-down.
Then they re-packed my suitcase, including the protein powder, and sent me on my way.
Repacking It All
I texted my hosts for the week: You may be housing a terrorist.
She texted back: Is it too late to run a background check?
Haha.
My morning’s confidence had melted away in the pat-down, but then I thought about my fellow travelers. Have they made it through security yet?
Right then, their text message arrived. Oh, good. I could still help. Maybe carry the baby. Or a bag.
Then I read the text: We’re at the gate.
I Learned
I once held the belief that airport security lines took forever. Long snake lines measured in eons.
But I’ve learned. Nothing takes as long as being threatened with protein powder prison.
I had one of those coughs that made your toenails rattle and, after a morning of listening to my hacking, a co-worker gave me the evil eye. “That sounds like a smoker’s cough,” he said.
“I’ve never smoked a cigarette in my life,” I said.
But I had to take it back. There was this one time
My father was a smoker for many years and, at age 6, I approached him after supper one evening. He was sitting at the dining room table with a cigarette in one hand, white smoke drifting like a lazy river toward the ceiling, and a glass ashtray before him.
“Would you like a puff?” He gestured to me.
Yes, I would. I scooted up to him, excited to share this special moment with him. I lifted the white tube to my lips and took a long pull on the cigarette.
Dragon’s breath first roasted my tonsils before descending with white heat down my throat. My lungs were instantly seared and my stomach rolled with burning coals.
The scalding smoke slammed into my eyes and my nose filled with a smell of dead mice and scorched banana peels.
Even my toenails curled with the heat.
Certain that my life was about to end, I spun and ran as fast as toasted legs could carry me into the kitchen. I stuck my head under the cold water faucet and tried to drown myself.
What else can you do when a dragon has unleashed its flames?
I survived, undoubtedly due to my quick thinking in rushing to the kitchen sink.
And, as the rushing water sluiced into my mouth dousing the fire, I had one single thought: one swallow of the dragon’s breath was more than enough for me.
Late on Christmas day several years ago, we bundled our family into the car and headed for a ski trip in the Colorado mountains.
The gift-giving had been trimmed back so that we could enjoy this ski outing but my husband wanted to do something special for the family on our travel that evening.
“Let’s stop at that nice steak house on the interstate,” he said.
So we did. They were closed. It was, after all, Christmas day.
Hmmm. We hadn’t thought of that so we continued to the next town and pulled in, thinking the Chinese restaurant there might work well.
Closed.
We were starting to get a clue, finally. But we had five kids in the car and the Christmas cookies were wearing off. They were restless.
“Let’s try a fast-food place.” My husband had set his heart on a special mealtime family gathering but his stomach was growling, too.
Closed.
Grocery stores were closed. Walmart was closed.
We were about to take stock of the energy bars that might have been left in coat pockets when my husband spotted a 7-Eleven convenience store open.
We turned the kids loose. “Find something to eat.”
Because there’s virtually nothing healthy in a snack place like that, the kids were not bound to a balanced meal. They grabbed chips and popcorn and gallons of fountain drinks.
Their parents have felt guilty for years for not having enough foresight to avoid such a disappointment. We wanted to give them a nice steak dinner but instead offered candy bars and peanuts.
But I have been assured by our older son not to worry.
“I got a fistful of dill pickles,” he said. “Best Christmas dinner ever!”
I’m joining Jeff Goins’ challenge to write 500 words per day during January. I’d like to develop more consistent daily writing habits and this looks to be a good start.
I’ll post updates during the month. If all goes according to plan (and it always does, right?), I should have at least 15,000 words down on paper -well, on my hard drive – by the end of January and several blog posts in the queue.
In the movie Up, a dog with teeth bared moving in for the win could be distracted by the call, “Squirrel!” The dog’s head instantly rotated in search of the new prey.
That problem isn’t just with dogs. My sister and I have been struggling with the same issue.
Let me give you a couple of examples.
I recently had a couple of errands to run before visiting my mother, who is currently living in a nursing home. From the bank, I headed downtown for errand #2 – picking up a part from an appliance store. One block before I arrived at the store, I instead turned right onto Main Street and drove back across town to the nursing home.
Two hours later, I realized I hadn’t snagged the part I needed.
Squirrel!
A few days ago, my teenage son and I headed out on a day-long trip. Before we walked out of the house, I reminded him, “You ought to take a water bottle with you.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said and filled a stainless steel bottle pulled from the cupboard.
Then we got into the car and I buckled in. “Oh,” I said. “I forgot my water bottle.”
I got out of the car, headed back toward the house, and he rolled down his window. “Would you grab mine while you’re in there?”
Squirrel!
My sister is working with an essential oil that is supposed to help with distractedness. I’m calling it squirrel oil and, if it helps her, I may mainline the stuff.
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