La Dee La Dee Da
I stared at my own nether regions on the security TV. Had I smuggled in a gun? Maybe I’d accidentally worn a metal chastity belt? Whatever was down there was glowing red like the eyes of a devil she-wolf creeping through the underbrush….
The airport had caught me.
This trip to Ohio had gone well, and we were on our way home, making multiple layovers and eating way too much airport food.
And now this.
“Is there anything in your pockets, ma’am?”
Guilt swept through my body like a steam roller through my grandma’s garden. Why? WHY had I ignored the hair tie and thin paper receipt when they’d asked me before I stepped through the scanner? I didn’t think they mattered. Does a machine care about a small piece of paper or a tiny bit of elastic? I’d thought they were insignificant, like a piece of fluff on a sweater or a small smudge on a shoe. I felt like a criminal. How could I have neglected to completely empty my pockets? The machine was punishing me for sure.
I guiltily handed them over.
I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll have to search you.
I stared at her.
She stared at me.
Heck yeah, you have to search me. I thought, nodding appreciatively as I moved over to where she indicated.
I’d check me out too. I looked guilty as heck. The kind of guilty that Alcapone wore so off the cuff, but I wore like a 12-year-old caught with their hand in the bag of mini peanut-butter cups.