Oh The Fun We Can Have At Airports

My husband informed me two mornings ago, before his food show began that he was having a hard time finding his box cutter in his checked luggage. He needed it to open his slew of boxes. You know those box cutters, those deathly sharp razor blades that shoot up from their plastic holder. After searching his checked suitcase over and over again, he finally found it.....IN HIS CARRY ON!!!

Thank you TSA, I feel extremely secure knowing my husband's carry on was screened so well. This happens after countless trips with our children where you wanted me to give up my yogurts. I might yogurt someone to death if you don't let me keep my yogurts. Mamma's babies gotta eat, so you are going to have to pry those yogurts out of my cold dead hands. I never did give up the yogurts.

I used to think TSA stood for Transportation Security Administration, but I realize it stands for Teenagers Screening Adults, since the average age of a TSA agent is probably 18. This was not the first time my husband got through with objectable objects. He once forgot to empty his pants pockets and the alarms did not go off, even though there were keys and various other objects in his pockets.

They used to make new mothers take a sip of bottles that contained breast milk in it. I guess if Mom doesn't drop dead after she takes a sip , all is well. Thank G-d they let her take her actual breasts through.

If you have powdered formula in one container, and bottled water in another, the water is confiscated. But if you actually turn the powder and water into formula, the bottle of made formula is allowed through.

More than three ounces of lotion, and you might SMEAR someone to death. But I can take my two foot long laptop cord through (even though airplanes have no electrical outlets) because I would NEVER consider strangling someone to death. We have to take our shoes off and place them in a tray to be x-rayed, but we can then put our five inch stilettos back on, because the thought of utilizing them as stabbing devices has NEVER EVER crossed my mind.

I love traveling, my favorite part is sitting at the gate and waiting for the plane to board. I love airports because I am such a people person. I love to observe people and an airport is one of those places where everyone seems to let their guard down. I make up stories in my mind, all based on the way they walk, the clothes they wear, their hairstyles, what they are eating, the expressions on their face, the sort of carry on they hold, the company they keep, etc...

That woman with the gym bag as a carry on, who has her hair in a loose ponytail and is dressed in juicy couture sweat pants with a t-shirt that says "I Love the Real Houswives of OC", just left her husband and she is going back home to live with her parents for a while.

The guy in the blue suit with the brown shoes, wearing a long wool coat and a dorky crew cut, carrying a messenger bag made out of nylon is a walking contradiction. He is a business man, but not a good one. He just blew a HUGE account for his company and is on his way back to reveal this information. He is about to get laid off.

I could go on all day with my character studies. It's a good thing that total strangers at the airport are occupying my time. Until I wonder if that guy with the shaven head wearing camouflage, carrying a backpack covered in confederate flag stickers also got through security with a box cutter, or a stick of dynamite, or a semi-automatic. That is when I read my O magazine and just stop looking at the people. Here is to safe flying!!!