under…..

A few hours ago I went through airport security for the first time since the incident of the underwear bomber (I’m not sure of his handle:  the undi-bomber? underbomber?  boxer bomber?)

Security was  tighter than normal but I wasn’t thinking of security by the time I walked up the aisle  to find my seat on the crowded plane.  (are they ever NOT crowded anymore?)

Someone called me……” Miss?”   (I like that, I hate being called “Ma’am.”)

I turned and saw the man calling me.   And now I thought about the security on the plane.  He was right out of Central Casting —the right age, right look and  definitely from the Middle East.  My life didn’t flash before my eyes but I did flash on  my life and something else I never think about when I see a strange man—I was mentally undressing him and wondering about his underwear.

How ironic is life—remember when the only worry we had about underwear in an emergency was when our mothers told us to be sure it was clean?

Meanwhile he wasn’t mentally undressing me, but something about me had definitely excited him;   he was wildly gesturing.    Down.    By now I was thinking about the shoe bomber.   I looked where he was pointing.

And I saw it.  On the floor, in the crowded aisle of the plane, while people were busy finding their seats and no one else would have noticed it….. I would have continued walking never knowing that my bag had shifted as my suitcase rolled and if this stranger  hadn’t told me.    I stopped thinking about security as I bent down to pick up my wallet.