TALES FROM THE S
HIRE
Tiny Travel Troubles
Grown Child is enjoying retelling the story her cousin snitched on me about.
I had to surrender a multi-tool pocketknife at the Memphis airport. My brain was flashing back to my last trip when I packed dangerous tiny scissors, harmful nail clippers, and deadly tweezers into my checked luggage. But we didn’t check luggage this time. However, that morning my brain said the pocketknife would be fine since it was not in my personal bag that goes under the seat.
Yes, I know the rules, and even took out a pair of small scissors from my personal bag, but still put that knife gadgetry in my suitcase.
After my bag got pulled over for further inspection, I even told them where it was in the suitcase — as if the x-ray wasn’t why it got dinged!
I can laugh at myself. But my niece wanted more people laughing at me, so she texted Grown Child immediately. Whatever!
——— Heading home a few days later, my throat was really scratchy. I was a week in on taking antibiotics for a sinus/ear infections and I tried to figure out why suddenly this symptom was flaring up. Was there a crop pollen in Arkansas? Germs from the plane? Something viral?
The morning I was leaving my niece’s house, she and her husband headed back to Memphis for an appointment. I finished my coffee, exited through the garage, and packed the car. Routinely, proceeded to select a podcast to listen to, then text Grown Child that I was heading home. There was no phone in my purse.
Silly me. I must have tossed it into my suitcase. It wasn’t there either. I looked twice in everything. I left the car door and lift-gate open, and paced around the the yard and the driveway trying to figure out my best plan.
I’d go next door. Because I no longer memorize numbers, I would have to call Grown Child at work to call her cousin for the code, and call me back on the neighbor’s number.
The neighbor had a deck with full railing and gates. To be cautious, I leaned in to knock on the door. A horse-sized hound bolted out of a doggie door barking in full attack mode, and stretched his front paws over the railing. I screamed, loud, hard, and long enough to cause that scratchy throat — while running backward!
The nice young lady there came out and ordered the dog back into the house. I explained who I was, so she called my niece because good neighbors have each other’s number. I got the code.
My niece called me. “I saw you walking around and thought you were just stretching before driving.”
The simple solution to ring my niece’s doorbell and have her talk to me did not cross my mind. I had been in a panic, it was hot, and I needed to go to the bathroom.
She added, “I started to say something, but I didn’t want to scare you.”
That was fine; the dog already did.
