a quick story

An anecdotal occurrence during my trip to Georgia 2 weeks ago escaped my memory until tonight. (While folding clothes LOTS of clothes. Just now getting caught up on laundry. I have been home a week) I happened upon a small story in my jumbled thoughts. And I know you all are dying to hear it. :)

First let me set for you my state of mind during this story. I had gone through 3 days of panic trying to get a flight out of Colorado to Georgia. Frantically I had been on the phone with Frontier scores of times (literally. the operators knew me by name. no joke.) attempting the seemingly impossible task of making it to my brother and sister-in-laws birth. SO.....having gotten the red-eye flight out of Paradise on a Sunday night, I had packed up my things and prepared to go.

It was about 10:30 p.m. on that Sunday night. I was going through security at the Denver airport. While waiting in an unusually long line for that time of night, I walked while texting a friend...looking forward to my journey to the birth.... smugly reading the posters on airport rules regarding luggage. UH. Plastic bag for all liquids. CHECK! Whew....I had some vital liquids in my carry on. You see, in my haste to pack, I did attempt to contain a small bit of brainpower. I decided to pack the labor/birth items I was bringing into my carry-on in case the airline lost my luggage. (I know what you are thinking..."smart gal"....well, hold that thought). In my carry-on...in a plastic bag...I had the comfort measure items I use at births. Aromatherapy oils, lotion, etc. Expensive tools of the trade for a doula...and ones that I carefully have collected over the years.

My turn in line. I hoist my carry-on, purse, coat and pillow (yes, I brought my pillow) into the little bins to go through the x-ray machine. Do they actually LOOK in all the stuff? Well, of course they do. Especially when I come through the line. (Apparently young, white, non-Muslim girls are prime suspects for airplane bombings and such. They need to weed us out and search our things to make sure we are not terrorists. I know this because EVERY TIME I EVER go to the airport they search my stuff. The "come sit over here miss while I rifle through your bags" search.) So this guy sees my plastic bagged items for the birth. All 4 bottles of magic potions are in my carry on. And to think I thought this would be okay!!!!!!!!!

"Miss, these items are more than 3 oz. They are not allowed on the aircraft unless they are in your suitcase...not in a carry-on bag."

"But Sir! I put them in a baggy!!!!" (oh, how naive)

"Yes Miss, but anything over 3 oz cannot be carried on the plane. You will have to dispose of these right here." He points to a garbage can overflowing with random liquid items over 3 oz. that other less intelligent people have had to discard.

(I am beginning the freak out...) "OH NO! I cannot do that!!! These are expensive oils and lotions... I need them!!!! (voice going several octaves higher as I plead with the guy) Can I get them into my suitcase that I checked???? I just checked it!!!!"

"Uh, no Miss, you cannot."

"But you do not understand!!!! These are for a birth. A B-I-R-T-H. My sister-in-law in Georgia is having our first girl (as if he knows my family history) and I am going to the birth!!!! I MUST have these things!!!!!!! I M-U-S-T!!!!!!!!!!!" (I continue to ramble on about a birth and such for several seconds.)

He listens.

Is it the late hour?
Is it the frantic way that I am singing my story to him?
Is it the panic in my eyes?
Does he think I am going to attack him?

I don't know. But all I hear is.....

"The items are medical, are they not?"

"Medical? (uummm...NO SIR, they are for a homebirth!!!! duh....OH!!!!! WAIT!!!!!) "YES! They are medical! Medical!!! MEDICAL!!!!"

"Well I cannot require you to throw away items that are medical in nature"

"AHH!!!!!" (I restrained myself from jumping across the conveyor belt to hug him) "Thank you! THANK YOU!!!!!!! Medical! Yes!!!! You are my new best friend!!!! Thank you!!!! MEDICAL!!!!!!"

At this point he is pretty much shoving me away from the area and pointing the way to my terminal.

And so my trip began. :)