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Stand by your man
By Barb Walter, The Hennessey Clipper
It's a good thing for my husband that we don't live in Gestapo times because I found out I'd betray him in a New York minute. Well, in this case it was an Oklahoma City minute.
We'd just walked through the metal detectors at the airport, were putting our shoes back on and waiting for our luggage to pass the x-ray inspection when a guard asked, "Whose green bag is this?"
I never skipped a beat and said clearly, distinctly and loudly, "It's his!"
My arm instinctively raised and I pointed my finger at my husband of 33 years. I swear I felt like some screeching alien pod person pointing to someone who hadn't been podified yet.
I'd been pulling Bill's green wheeled bag and he'd been a gentleman and was lugging my overweight and stuffed red carry-on bag. The last thing I wanted was to be linked to his green bag. Only Bill and God knew what was in it.
I feared he'd accidentally packed one of his guns. Or worse. He could have had a cigarette lighter in there. No cigarette lighters! We saw signs everywhere warning that no cigarette lighters were allowed.
The young security guard asked Bill to step aside so he could search his bag. The security guy quickly found the contraband which showed up on the scanner: two pocket knives - one his daughter had given him for his birthday a few years back.
He usually puts those items in his shaving bag, which he checks so it goes into the belly of the plane. This time he decided at the last minute that he didn't want to be without his razor in case they lost his big bag. So kerplunk! They went into his carry-on.
The knives were for cutting cheese or apples we get from the A&P when we want a snack in our New Orleans hotel room. Well, they were. Now they are the property of the U.S. government or Will Rogers Airport.
Bill said they give you the option of mailing the items to yourself but you have to provide your own mailing box, postage and of course, you have to leave the airport to mail the box.
They also took his razor and a tiny pair of pliers from his eyeglasses repair kit. They also confiscated something from his fingernail kit. There were five items in all and of course, they had to make a hand search of his bag to find all of them.
Wayne and Gloria Trotter, our friends and traveling companions, and I were worried that Bill wouldn't make the plane. Notice I didn't drop a hint that I would have stayed behind if our plane to New Orleans was going to have to leave without Bill.
Luckily we didn't have to leave him behind because our usually-always-on-time Southwest flight was 45 minutes late. So, we stood in line for what seemed forever. But our eternity was only beginning even though we were in the A line.
Once on the over-booked plane, we applauded Bill for taking time that afternoon at the office to print out our boarding passes so we'd be in the first line to board.
We were quickly given our two tiny bags of peanuts and a soda. I'd ordered a diet Dr Pepper but she brought a diet Coke. No big deal and it was a quick flight to Dallas. We didn't have to change planes. So I had two more bags of nuts and ice water, though Id' next ordered a diet Sprite.
We touched down in Houston and I had to stand up, although they told us to stay seated so they could get a count of those going on to New Orleans. Another two bags of nuts and a cup of water and we were in New Orleans. Well, it took us three hours and several touch-and-goes but we finally made it to the Big Easy.
We were tired but happy to be on vacation when they loaded our bags into the cab.
"What's that noise?" I asked the driver when we got underway.
He explained there was a problem with the automatic door locks and they kept flipping on and off.
"It's disconcerting," he said.
"It's downright irritating," I said since those six bags of peanuts and three drinks were making me wish I'd stopped off at the ladies room before being jammed into the cab and surrounded by luggage.
Once at the hotel, the doorman couldn't open the door. We were locked inside the cab and the driver was more intent on getting his money than he was in getting us out of the cab.
Once we were released from the cab, we checked in, got into our room and that's when I realized I'd forgotten to pack a toothbrush.
Bill didn't complain about my forgetfulness though. Or did I leave out that part?
When checking in at the airport, Bill was asked to a valid driver license.
"What's wrong with this one?" he asked.
"Sir, it expired last month," the young man told him.
"So I forgot to renew my license," Bill said. "I'm 69 years old. I'm entitled."
Ever ready to continue betraying her man, I said, "Nope, honey, you're 70!"
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