Going to California
A couple weeks ago for my Dad’s 94th birthday, I brought my (almost) 8-year-old daughter, Elizabeth. A couple of family members would finally get to meet her. Her mom, Tara, had no vacation days available and so stayed behind. She was probably happy to have me and Elizabeth gone a few days.
Tara dropped us at the ). But I digress.
So, with a mixture of disbelief and disgust, I look at this agent in front of us and say, “Excuse me?” But, he either changes his mind suddenly — à la “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for” from Star Wars — or I had completely misread his intentions (probably the latter), as he just smiled, gestured with the other hand, and said, “You can go ahead.” He was simply letting us into a much shorter line, doing us a favor. When Elizabeth asked about it, I said, “That man just did us a favor. He was being nice.” No sense passing my authority figure issues (paranoia?) onto her. Then again, we were the only people the agent let through, and there were plenty of people behind us. Hmmm.
The first leg of the flight, to Salt Lake City, was uneventful. Elizabeth didn’t sleep a wink, even though it was getting late. I was kicking myself for leaving her Christmas gift/distraction device ,