[Miles to Go Before I Sleep]
I wish you a Happy Holiday Season, gentle readers. I shan't be posting much because I'll be away for a bit. I'm doing a Mid-Atlantic/East Coast tour, visiting my mama and some friends. It will be nice to get away.
I'm glad that I'm visiting the mama person first, because (1) I'm starting to feel like I'm getting the flu and (2) most of the clothes I'll be packing are dirty. And, we all know that and nothing says "mama, I love you and I missed you and I still need you" like arriving sick with a pile of laundry asking for chicken soup to be provided and the laundry to be dealt with [yeah, I'll do my own laundry, if she'll let me].
I'm flying out shortly and I am preparing myself for the trauma. You see, I always get searched.
I've never been any trouble [for civic authorities]. I've never dealt drugs or made fake IDs [other than, of course, my own] or done any other particularly interesting illegal thing. I've never even gotten a traffic violation [which, considering that I've been pulled over nine times is quite remarkable].
And, still, I get searched every time I fly.
Somebody rifles through my bags. Somebody tells me stand with my feet at shoulder length with my arms extended. Until today, I was certain that this time somebody would inform me that for security reasons my breasts must be thoroughly checked: I mean there's room for something to be hidden there [and God knows I've stored a mobile phone or a pack of cigarettes or a wad of cash in the bra I was wearing numerous times]. Apparently, there were enough complaints to change that practice [the practice of feeling passengers' breasts, not the practice of my storing various things in my bras].
I don't ever try to carry on my stuff any more. It's easier just to check it. I make sure I have nothing that could be misconstrued as contraband in my purse, including but not limited to hair spray, tweezers, nail clippers, and crochet hooks.
Oh well. I got on a list somewhere somehow.
Before I get publicly debased, I need to finish readying myself and my things. I've been up for 21 hours [and I've got another 7 before I'll be able to nap] so I'm not optimally coherent right now. That means I'll certainly forget something. I have remembered some necessities that won't be available near my mama person's house . . . . notably Vincent Longo gel blush and Starbucks coffee. Hopefully, for whatever else I've forgotten, I'll be able to purchase a reasonable facsimile on the road.
Hugs all around . . . .