Threat Effect

I haven't flown since 9/11.

Not because I was afraid of terrorists; because I couldn't think of anywhere I wanted to go, bad enough to get frisked.

I was also not encouraged to stand in line with other travelers, joyfully surrendering their civil rights in the name of presumed safety. I sometimes get scrappy standing in lines. I decided I'd rather not end up in the Federal Pen for being a smart ass, so I stayed home.

Now, in a miracle worthy of Vatican attention, I get to go to the OCEAN again. Yes, you heard that right. Twice in one year.

*

To meet Honey Bunny after his work conference to spend the weekend at the beach, I have to fly.

Alas.

Well,

they say, it's not all that bad, anymore.

TSA's got it down to a science. You'll be whisked through that risk assessment, bag screening, metal detecting station before you know it.

Wham, Bam, Move Along Ma'am.

Just remember not to bring an ice axe, meat cleaver or more than three ounces of liquid.

Honest, they're on the list.

So, I'm trying to think of something else.

Ocean, OCEAN, OCEAN.

By the time you're reading this, I will either be on my way to a romantic weekend on the Oregon coast, or the Federal Pen for unrepentant smart-aleckiness.

Some things, dear hearts, don't change.


*Hugh Laurie