I know that you guys are missing us. I’m sorry. Especially since I left you hanging on the London Chronicles. But it’s for a good reason, I promise. Toya and I have both been having a very special time of things. I had my feelings hurt and subsequently got a good hard look at the person I really was. And let me tell you, Tia Akimmi, without Christ is not a cool person. To sum up…Needy Chicks are SCARY!! I will some how find a way to articulate this in the very near future. But until then, please bear with us.
But because I don’t want to leave you hanging with NOTHING…
I’m sorry…What did you find on my bag?!?!?!
So it was day 3 ½ of what I’ve dubbed “emotional revelation/breaking week” and I was on my way home from a job in Cincy. Y’all, when I say I just wanted to BAWL my eyes out, please believe me. But I had to be strong because I was meeting with clients and I was with another member of my clinical team. Remember “A League of Their Own”? There’s no crying in clinical research. So smack dab in the middle of my turmoil, I had to suck it up and deal until I got home. So needless to say, by the time I started home everything was bubbling very near the surface and drama was the LAST thing that I needed. Anyway, I’m mindlessly making my way through security trying to make the nonsense inside make sense. Not an easy task. How about I was randomly selected to have my bag searched. I fly a lot, so I consider myself pretty knowledgeable when it comes to the rules of flight. I always pack flip-flops (weather permitting) so I can change shoes before I go through security. (Plus I don’t really like to wear shoes anyway, so it’s an excuse to wear sandals. I do, however, like to buy shoes. That’s a whole other story in and of itself.) I hardly ever wear belts (something that has become problematic with all of the incessant jogging I’ve been doing.) And I always pack my cell in my carry-on and have my laptop out, WAY before I get to the front of the security line. Basically I do whatever it takes to get through security as quickly as possible. I’m usually pretty nondescript looking and as such don’t get stopped very much. Not so much this time. No biggie. It happens once in a great while. But see here’s the problem. When the scanner finds traces of TNT on your bag, things get, shall I say, sticky. Man, I got pulled aside, they asked me a million questions and filled out a report that asked me everything except what shoe size I wear. At the end of it all, I asked the guy if I was now red flagged in every airport in the western hemisphere. He assured me that the information that was collected would be kept internal. Internal meaning only people at the Cincinnati/N. Kentucky airport have access to the information or internal meaning only the people that work at AIRPORTS have access? And where the heck did the TNT come from? I can barely mix Kool-aid properly, let alone the chemical components to make an explosive device. So who have I been around who’s tried to mix it up like that? What is wrong with the world?