Sunday, June 1, 2014

Another Journey Home, Sweet Home


 The trip home from grandsitting in Florida was unexciting - thankfully - except for a short detour during the security process.

I was alone, hub jetting off on a business trip while I traveled home.

The airport security line was short and moved quickly. I placed my backpack on the scanner belt, took my shoes off, placed them along with a couple of bracelets and my small pocketbook in a bin, and walked through the body-scanning machine.

No bells or whistles went off, and no TSA men or women waved me aside.

I went to retrieve my backpack and other items, eager to move on to my departure gate.

A TSA agent held my backpack high and looking at me said, “Is this yours?”

“Yes.”

“We have to examine it. Move over here,” pointing to an area at the end of the scanning belt.

“Have anything sharp in here? A knife?”

“No.” Honestly, I don’t think so, I thought, but I don’t remember everything any more.

The security guy carefully searched my bag, opening various compartments and moving stuff around.

I had no suitcase, either carry on or checked baggage. I was flying Spirit. No suitcase, no extra fee. I stash some clothes and makeup in Florida with the grandkids. My backpack – my free carry-on – holds everything else I need for a particular trip, including my iPad, a couple of books, and additional clothes.

Dirty laundry occupied the largest pouch in the backpack. I wondered what TSA guy thought of my dirty clothes as he rifled through the bag.

Suddenly he triumphantly held up a water bottle. “You know you can’t take this with you.”

“Oh, I forgot about that. My grandkids.”

I had taken the backpack to the pool the day before, stocked with water bottles and a few other necessities. I obviously did not do a good job emptying the bag before packing for the trip home.

TSA guy continued, “You can go back out of security, empty the bottle and then come back through with the water bottle.”

The process did not appeal. I was prepared to say good-bye to the cheap plastic container.

“That’s OK. I don’t need it. Keep it.” And I continued down the corridor to my gate.

The rest of the trip continued uneventfully.

And finally I was home. Sweet home.