At the airport.
On the morning of her departure, in all her luck and definition, at every checkpoint, her 3 overstuffed bags were opened and ransacked. Remain Calm. Pretend you’re on vacation. Be excited. These thoughts were all running thru her head and she was none of these. What if they discovered her suit? What if they found her How to Teach English book? What if they found the 8 months worth of pills?
Checkpoint 1.
One bag was too heavy and she had to take 10lbs worth of stuff and transfer it to the smaller bag. So in the middle of the check-in area, all sorts of clothing and intimates were taken from one bag and placed into the next under the 20-something-pimply-ponytailed girl’s scrutinizing eyes. With this finished and done, she reloaded her bags onto the cart. This in itself was a feat. In the cushy office job that had spoiled her for 4 years, she had reached a level of muscle dystrophy known only to those who don’t excercise. When lifting the photocopier lid was a strenuos task, 1 x 50lbs suitcase, 1 x 35lbs suitcase and a 15 lbs carry-on was more weight than she had lifted accumulatively in the past year.
Checkpoint 2
US Customs. ''Please step over this way with your bags. Do you have ID? Ah! Frances is a pretty name. You don't find names like this anymore. Could you unlock this zipper for me please? Are you going on vacation?''
She knods.
''Do you watch Seinfeild? Some days it feels like Kramer world here.''
''I usually don't watch TV but I have a soft spot for home decorating shows.''
''Ohh! Like Real Renos and that guy, who's a contractor, who goes in to fix other people's shoddy work? What's his name again? Oh yeah, Holmes. Holmes on Home. That's the name of the show. I wish this guy would visit my home! He can fix my husband's mistakes! Or the one where the family trade rooms! Wow, I can never think of such neat ideas! Ok, here you go. Put your bags here and go through there. Have a good trip!''
Actual comments are more exasperating than they appear.)
Checkpoint 3. US Customs...still. But the bags are thankfully in the luggage area.
''Where are you going?'' said Mr. Sat-on-my-tush-and-ate-lots-of-carbs-for-lots-of-years.
''Oh, BA. That's a nice area. I've been there a few years ago. Why do you have so many bags? Yes, it is good to be prepared. The best trick I've learned is to pack light and buy clothes there. That way you'll look like the locals and not stand out so much.''
The reply was a bark of laughter followed by the comment, ''I'm glad YOU make so much money!''
Mr. S.O.M.T.A.A.L.O.C.F.L.O.Y. didn't seem so happy with the comment....
''Ok, here's your passport, have a nice flight.''
And on she went to the pay phone to hear Beloved's voice one last time.
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