So, here's the story. After checking our bag, we got in line for security. After weaving through the line for 15 or so minutes I remembered I had an innocent bottle of water in my bag. I thought, "I'll take it out, have a few sips and toss it in the trash can at the beginning of the scanners." Unfortunately for me and those around me AND much to the humor (or horror) of Mike it was not water. It was Sparkling Water. It had bounced around in my bag for many hours as we went on a cruise, walked through the city to lunch at Ditka's and had experienced the same tumultuous taxi ride as I had. So, as I opened the bottle, it EXPLODED ... which as you can imagine is frowned upon in the one part of the country where having more than a few Tablespoons of water is actually illegal. I recall saying, "Ohhhh, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!" like a 4 year old spilling her milk to all of those around me. I was soaked, Mike was soaked and I had sprayed people all around us. Then I pathetically apologized to the TSA agent who did not respond. We finally made it to the conveyer belt where I threw my bottle away (duh!) and put my bags through the scanners. Then I was stopped. My bag had to be re-xrayed because you know the 2 magazines and book are sooooo suspicious looking ... which is fine but again held up my line. As I was waiting for my bag to be re-xrayed another TSA agent approached and showed me a scanner that showed 2 blue rectangles that were "suspicious" around my calves and told me I'd have to be frisked. I mentioned earlier I giggle and chat when I get nervous and well I was really feeling like I was going to be burst. You see I was wearing a knee length skirt. The only thing I could have been hiding in my calves was maybe bone marrow or fat ... it took all of my strength not to giggle and make sarcastic jokes. I mean seriously! There were a dozen people around me who actually looked like they might want to blow up the airport so pinpointing this frumpy, 4'11", mother of TEN seemed really, really hilarious. But, finally, I was released. I am such a dork.
Mike and I regroup and walk down to our concourse. And, let me say, a lesser husband might have said, "I can't take you anywhere!" or "You don't get out much do you?" or "Next time let's just drive to our vacation." My dear, precious husband, said nothing. He did buy me a new Vera Bradley bag, 2 glasses of wine and let me watch Kicking and Screaming through the entire flight on his laptop. He loves me.
This is my soaked, torn, dilapidated boarding pass after it had dried out for a bit.
