at least nobody barfed

I think I may have figured out that "guy" thing.

I'm 51. Not 30. Or 40. Or even 50. So you can ignore the next (or last) post if you haven't already read it.

A few months ago, Breanne told me about a snow globe someone had given to her. She loved it. When I asked to see it, she said, quite matter-of-factly, "Naney bwoke it."

A couple of days ago when I was shopping for a hoodie, I bought each of the girls a few things at a store near my hotel, but because there are five girls now and because I have very limited "put that back, they don't need it" ability, those few things for each ended up being a big bag full of stuff. As I was paying for the stuff, I noticed little tiny snow globes that had Mickey Mouse and Minnie Mouse inside of them. And then I saw one with Cinderella inside.

In no time at all, I remembered Breanne's snow globe adoration, her bwoken gwobe, her love of princesses, especially Cinderella--and said, "Oh, you have princess snow globes?" "Cinderella?" "Please charge me for one of those too." I told the ladies behind the counter that it was for my granddaughter's fourth birthday next week and that she would love it.

One of the ladies reached under the counter, pulled out the Cinderella globe and said something about it being a gift. Then she wrapped it in bubble wrap, twice, and then wrapped it in a large sheet of brown packing paper. Then she smiled at me, and after writing something on it, handed it to me.

I asked how much I owed her for it, and she said, "Oh no, it's a gift for you from us. To thank you for buying so many things. Your granddaughters will be very happy girls." She had written "Gift" on it. I was delighted.

On the way back to my hotel, I stopped in another store and noticed similar tiny snow globes. For $11.99. Seriously? No more than three inches tall and they wanted nearly twelve bucks? I was relieved that I hadn't seen enough snow globes for all of the girls.

Yesterday, surprisingly, I was able to pack all of my treasured purchases into my carry-on suitcase. I had intentionally packed light because a) I was going to Florida where it was supposed to be warm enough for lightweight clothing, and b) I wanted room to bring home surprises for the girls. Was that a smart plan or what?

My flight didn't leave until 5:15, but my late checkout time was 2:00, so rather than drag around my carry-on and computer bag and purse, I decided to go to the airport, get through security, and then find someplace to sit down and eat while doing the USA Today puzzles. My driver was a very intelligent friendly man in his 50s who clearly recognized a fine woman as he helped me into and out of his taxi van.

I entered the airport and soon realized that every member of every girls' softball team on the east coast was waiting to go through security. With their parents and coaches.

Additionally, spring break season has begun, so there were many families returning from vacations and countless teens without their parents who were waiting to go through security.

The lines were beyond long. But I remembered I was early, had plenty of time, and decided to enjoy the show.

Thirty minutes later, I was at the conveyor belt where you disrobe and place all of your stuff down to go through the x-ray machine while you walk through the human-x-ray machine. As usual, there was no beeping when I walked through the machine, so I started redressing, but then the person at the x-ray machine asked if the black bag was mine and then directed me to another counter. He asked me to open my suitcase and I thought the problem must be the pedicure file I'd packed. It is a serious foot file. (Thank you, Jr). But the attendant didn't go to that part of the suitcase. He reached for the zippered part that contained my clothing brush? What? And then his hand came back out with the small parcel in brown wrapping paper marked, "Gift."

"Oh yeah, I thought so."

"What?"

"You can't carry one of these on the plane."

"It's less than two ounces."

"Doesn't matter. It's flammable liquid inside."

"Seriously? Flammable? It's for my granddaughter's birthday. Really? I can't take it on the plane? It was free from the store where I bought all of this other crap. Really? Flammable? It's for a four-year-old's birthday. Flammable?" "Really?"

"Yes, sorry, ma'am. My supervisor found it so you'll either have to throw it away or check your bag."

"Really? It's got to be less than two ounces. Flammable?"

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry. What would you like to do?"

"It was free. It will cost me $25 to check my bag."

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry. What would you like to do?"

And this is the part where I should have thrown away the snow globe. I was already a little worried because I'd only bought one and I think Audrey would probably like one too, and so would Janey, but she's probably too young, especially since she broke the other one, and besides, the liquid is flammable? What am I doing giving something like that to a four-year-old?

"I guess I'll check it. Do I have to go back through security?"

"No ma'am. Follow me and I'll get you a quick pass so you'll be able to walk right in and be back at your gate in five minutes."

So, I followed him to the security exit, told my story to the guard at the exit as she gave me the quick pass. Dragged my suitcase and computer bag and purse back to Delta's check-in counter, checked in again, paid my $25 to check my suitcase and snow globe, waited for the attendant to give me the tag for my bag, all the while, telling my story to anyone who would listen.

Another thirty minutes later, I found the quick pass entrance. It's also the entrance for "Uniformed Flight Crew", and "Uniformed Flight Crew" are directed to go to the front of the line. So they don't miss their flights. Because, you know, planes leave all of the time without the pilot or copilot or attendants.

The quick pass entrance does not allow non-"Uniformed Flight Crew" to pass through security without x-ray. No, no, no. If you are not wearing a uniform that indicates you are part of the flight crew, you are directed back through the x-ray machine. Both you and your carry-on go through the x-ray.

And because the national security threat is orange, security personnel conduct random additional screening, which may include testing for traces of explosives or body pat-downs.

So, I waited while the crews were sent through without screening, finally set my computer bag and purse on the conveyor belt, computer and cell phone in a tray, shoes, hoodie, purse in another tray, computer bag on the belt.

The big guy in front of me set off all kinds of bells. Apparently he had metal inside his body.

I set off the bells. I do not have metal inside of my body.

I was the lucky random person selected for additional screening. While I watched my two trays of stuff move to the end of the conveyor belt, the screener directed me to stand here, then there, and keep an eye on my stuff, no stand there, until a female screener approached and asked me to follow her. I think she told me to keep an eye on my stuff as we walked to another spot for my additional screening.

She asked me to hold out my hands and then she wiped them with little wipes and scanned the wipes or my fingers or something--I don't remember exactly. I do remember that she wore gloves and I wondered if those wipes contained a substance that in great enough quantities would be harmful to humans, and I made a mental note to wash my hands as soon as possible.

Then she told me I could go pick up my things and head to my gate. But I wasn't leaving until I told her my story, including the part where the attendant had said my quick pass would get me through security quickly.

She listened, smiled and said, "Well, at least I didn't pat you down."