I have been saying “I’ll get back to writing my blog” since, well my last post was August of 2015. Hey, at least I didn’t wait a whole year. Good on me!!!!!!
So here I am at the Erma Bombeck Writer’s Conference where I paid a lot of money to learn about writing and what would be a better place to return to my blog than here and now.
I looked at the screen — which apparently is a no no because I was immediately told to turn around — and there were squares around my neck. I can’t figure out what was in there that would have set off an alarm. Perhaps I have too many skin tags and if I rub them together I could create some kind of spontaneous fire? I was asked to remove everything from my back pocket — I had no back pocket so I’m thinking butt cellulite perhaps showed up. They also rubbed something on the palms of my hands and then scanned it. Cootie checker? Perhaps I had rubbed Daisy’s belly one too many times. I don’t know.
I was finally cleared to pass. I was a little flustered so I sat down on these chairs right outside the scanning station — not on the metal benches they have so you can put your shoes back on but the padded chairs. I was sitting there about 30 seconds when this guy comes by driving one of the carts that takes people to their gate. He asked if I wanted a ride? I said no and wondered how frazzled I must have looked; then another guy came by and asked and then finally the third guy said they have to ask because I was sitting on the handicapped seats. I felt a bit redeemed that I didn’t look decrepit but a little foolish for not seeing the big handicap sign on the chairs next to me.
The little planes take off from Concourse A which is so far away from the main concourse that you are almost back home by the time you get there. I watched as the pilot arrived. He was a baby — I figured Doogie Howser was my pilot. I looked to see if there were training wheels on the plane.
I don’t like little planes — well I don’t like big planes either. More about my Erma adventures next time.