Love Your Nail Polish

How is it I can play the lottery or scratch off till my hearts content and never win a thing, but take me to the airport once every 6 years and I’m the lucky duck who gets “randomly selected” to get swabbed. As they prop me against the wall and ask me to hold my hands out, the militant airport grinch approaches with some bbq tongs and a cotton swab? As he instructs me to hold out my hands, I politely ask if we are about to play the slap game. Cause if we are I need to get my game face on and widen my stance. He pauses, looks at his counterpart, takes a step back, pauses, and my little voices say “Oh crap! Way to go, Dork! Just shut your mouth and do as you’re told”. Now, those of you who know me well, that’s never really been my strong suit, but for the sake of not holding up the line, I do as I’m told. Just then my commanding officer says “I love your nail polish! What color is that?” Yep, not gonna go there…..

Being as I was on a roll just trying to get through my first check point and things were going so fabulously, I then receive the elated news that my carry-on, the one I so diligently made sure was packed with “just the right size” of everything, has somehow failed miserably. I must now go behind the black curtain and see the Great and Powerful OZ so that he may chastise me and take away whatever item that I am sure had some dastardly intent.

Well I finally made it through with only one casualty … my Listerine bottle. Seriously? Somehow that TINY4 oz bottle which wouldn’t fit in my sandwich bag full of other assorted liquids was just too much to let through security. Really?? Trust me, there will be more harm done without that little bottle after a 9 ½ hr flight. And there is NO WAY in hell you are going to get me to brush my teeth in one of those tiny, germ infested toilets on the plane. Oz and his rules are madness I tell you! PURE MADNESS!!!!


Off we go into the wild blue yonder……..however, I must comment that our pilot’s take off was much like the wave pool at Six Flags. A lot of rockin’ back in forth…at which point my sister, seeing the look of distress on my much younger face says to me “You know, there have been a higher rate of flight wrecks since pilots have been depending on auto pilot so much more. I think we’ll be fine, but just in case…I want to be cremated.” Really??? Like someone is going to scrape up a pile of parts and give the family the option of an open casket service??? Seriously. Just then Dad leans across the isle and says “If you girls don’t quite down I’m going to put you both in time out!”


Have you ever flown through pink cotton candy. I did! Very Cool…