Tuesday, September 20, 2011

There's a Pill for That

     We look to pharmaceutical solutions to mask an abundance of issues in this era. I hate taking pills, so I prefer to be a rebel to this fad; I even go as far as taking my daily multivitamins in liquid form. But there are times when pill popping seems appropriate.
     We migrated to Denver, CO last weekend to celebrate Patrick and I's 3rd wedding anniversary. It was a premature celebration, since our real wedding date isn't until the 27th, but due to the busy nature of schedules, we decided any time is party time. I bet you've been patiently waiting at the edge of your seat to hear what kind of crazy travel mishaps could have happened to us this time. Would you believe me if I said none?..........You probably shouldn't..........
DFW airport creepiness. This is how Texans dress. Did you also know we have livestock heads? We just put on our regular human heads before we go out in public, as not to scare the foreign civilians.  
     Patrick handled all the arrangements this go-around, since he swore all the last trip's craziness stemmed from my carefree planning nature. I must admit he did a decent job, and we got to the airport uneventfully in a timely manner, minus the unforeseen and impossibly predictable circumstance that our computer's hard drive would fry to a crisp the night before we left, leaving us only our phone Internet to verify flight information. Thank you, smart phones, thank you for being so smart!
     When approaching security, we were impressed with how short the line was, and then realized we had picked the lucky terminal with the super duper secure new XRAY system that looks like a huge upright MRI machine on steroids. In the past, I've been personally hand searched through my clothes, had my skin and personal belongings tested for drugs, and have been unjustly treated like a felon, but never had I been sexually harassed by security until this day. As I carefully followed instruction, raising my arms and slowly walking into to the crazy Jetson's-Futuroma-Space-MRI, this is what went down:

Security Woman A: "Girl, hey Girl, look at this," she says directing her voice to the other woman security guard on the opposing side, as she gestures me to come to her and makes me twirl around.

Me: "OMG", I thought to myself, "What have I done this time? Did I accidentally try to sneak in the airport with illegal jeans on? The one time I wear a bra, did I wear it with lethal weapon grade hooks?"

Security Woman A: "Hey, pssssssst, look here," she says to the male guard next to her as she grabs my shoulders and turns me around again, facing my back to the male guard and pretending like she wants me to look at the XRAY results. 

Me: I watch as they exchange several glances, and then catch her looking me over again while I start to kiss vacation good-bye because obviously I've done something terrible if 3 guards need to be involved. I decide to slowly start walking over to my belongings so I can make a run for it. 

Security Woman A: She looks at me as I walk away and says, "Girl, if I had a figure like yours, I wouldn't be working here.........And I mean that too!" 

Me: "Wow!", I thought to myself as I grabbed my purse and put on my shoes in relief that I had just mesmerized someone with my ass instead of becoming the next airport-law-violator. Then I looked up and realized my backpack was moved to the center security belt, out of my reach.

Security Woman B: "Who's bag is this?"

Me: "It's mine."

Security Woman B: "Do you have any liquids in this bag?"

Me: "Yes. In my travel bath bag," I said, as I reached to show her where they were.

Security Woman B: "DON'T touch it! Step over here please," she said, letting out a huge sigh, and rolling her eyes. She opened the bag and reached for one baggy, the kind big enough to put half a sandwich in, and said, "This is how much liquid you can bring on your carry on. Everything else must be thrown away."

Me: Big gulp. "Are you serious?!?! I've always carried this with me on my carry on. I just did it 2 months ago and there where no problems. Security actually hand searched the same bag and commented on how nice it was!"

Security Woman B: "Sorry those are the rules. ONE baggy," she said as she starred through my soul with her empty-airport-security-eyes. 

     I ultimately decided it would be best to "check" my backpack since beauty regimen bathroom gear is so expensive, so I sent my innocent husband, who was now also joining the eye-rolling-club, back out of security to check the bag. (I can only handle being sexually harASSed once a day, max.) When he made it back through security and found me, he asked where his travel guitar was. I had no clue where his travel guitar was, thinking he still had it with him when he left. Apparently he left it laying on the luggage bench, thinking he handed it to me and I walked away, thinking he still had it. Oops. As we mourned the loss of his favorite magical musical instrument, assuming someone had picked it up and walked away, Patrick thought he'd give it a snowball's chance in hell and ask security if they had seen a bag in similar size and shape. They did, and had set it aside waiting for a claim from it's long lost owner. All was well for the Carruth's. The travel guitar was recovered, the bathroom goodies were "checked", and my ass was on the right side of the airport. Things were going just perfect............UNTIL...........our plane got delayed. Go figure.
Waiting, waiting, waiting...... Atleast an Iced Mocha Latte and my Kindle were both in reach to save my life. 
     Maybe our travel drama really is derived from me. Maybe I need to take a zombie pill and just be transported from one place to another in a semi-coma state in order to stop the madness. Maybe. But then maybe my life wouldn't be as comical.
     We finally made it to Broomfield, went on a nice walk with a view of the mountains, hit up 3 different liquor stores to find some Godiva liquor, made some home-made pizza and capped off the night with spiked coffee.

What a way to start a vacation!

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