I can’t believe this is happening to me! Tomorrow morning we fly out for San Diego so early the chickens won’t be up when we get there. And to think Kathy sprung this on me not even two weeks ago.
I’m not safe in airports. I don’t know how to act. I know, I know. Don’t mention anything about the gum in your pocket. Just say Juicy Fruit. Do not holler a greeting to your friend Jack, no matter how long it’s been. Once you’re cleared to go in, don’t channel De Niro, point at the TSA agent and say, “You da bomb!…”. Neither he, nor anyone else in that bright little windowless room, will think it’s funny.
Last time I went through airport security was a while back. My metal knee set off the alarm of course, as I told them it would, and immediately every armed guard within fifty feet unsnapped his sidearm. They culled me out of the crowd and waved a wand up and down and around. Guy called me “Pops”. Can’t tell you how much I like being called Pops. Inspected my cane like it might contain a surface-to-air missile.
They say it’s a lot worse now. Great. I’ll probably wind up being dragged down the concourse in shackles. Keep watch for the viral video.