Shane Thayer

I love this nation of fear. Caution is everywhere. Smoking kills. Butter gives one a heart attack. Sex, Aids, killer tomatoes and peanut butter all saturate the evening news. Mad Cow disease, Anthrax, and killer bees are nothing compared to the great deadly threat of post 911 terrorism. No place is this seen as well as our nations airports. It is often difficult for me to keep my composure in situations like these. I tend to be manic, animated.

We all have scripts. We follow scripts for life. There is a concept that at a certain age or a certain position or social status you are supposed to act a certain age. People determine their scripts. The soccer mom has a soccer mom script the lawyer has a lawyer script and the artist has his little elitist bohemian script. Each and every person walks around with their script. Now the thing about scripts is that you have the ability to choose what script you live your life by. Once an individual realizes this it can be a liberating experience.

I arrived at the airport more than an hour early. Checked in with the front and went outside to smoke a cigarette. I stood out there with all of society’s other rejects who were not accepted in the nice climate controlled environment of the airport. Just in case an epidemic of second hand smoke broke out and we all spontaneously died. Apparently that happens often when you smoke. I should know I saw the truth.com commercial all about it.

As I smoked I struck up a conversation with one of the other rejects, an airport security guard. She told me how the brand new tube of toothpaste (I purchased just prior to arriving at the airport with the sole intent of taking it on the trip with me) would not be aloud past the security gate. Thank god someone thought to protect all of us passengers from the dangers of toothpaste, I didn’t even consider it. How foolish of me. I put my cigarettes and lighter in my shirt pocket with a pack of gum and my ticket. I pulled out my toothbrush and put a dab of toothpaste on it so at least I would have good breath when I arrived to my destination where the love of my life would be waiting. I chucked the toothpaste into the wastebasket and ran inside lugging a laptop bag, and a book bag of clothes both slung over opposing shoulders. My jacket made carrying all of this even more cumbersome. I went to the bathroom to use the sink for brushing my teeth with the little dab of salvaged toothpaste. I hoped that having it on my teeth would not be too dangerous so I planned on rinsing extra.

“My god!” I bellowed as I noticed how disheveled the restroom was. Paper towels strewn about and covering the sink soaked in water which nobody saw fit to wiping up when they finished. All I could think of was the poor guy who had to clean this up every day to feed his wife and kids, so I began to tidy the bathroom as I brushed. I started to become vocal about the disaster.
“I have a feeling these people don’t treat their own bathrooms like this”
“My god, this is atrocious.”
“Who just leaves their paper towels all over the counter?”
They started to notice as the bathroom full of relieved men began to chip in and assist on the cleaning. Their guilt had taken hold. They knew I was right. An older southern gentleman in bib overalls was wiping down counters. A younger boy with his white top college look picked a towel from the floor. In less than a minute we had the bathroom looking pretty damn good. I checked myself out in the freshly wiped mirror and adjusted my sunglasses. They make everything seem so much better. I love to wear my Gonzo glasses in homage to the late Doctor Thompson. God bless him. I rinsed extra and headed towards the line to get past security.
I watched. People took off shoes. Men took off their belts. Laptops were being pulled out of cases. Pocket contents were being spilled into little grey buckets. They reminded me of dish tubs we put dirty dishes in when I was a youth working at the local Steak & Shake waiting tables. Watching what everyone else was going through seemed like quite an ordeal. I started to dread this.
I was wearing my Docs, these boots are freaking huge and quite a hassle to get off. I can never find shoelaces long enough for them so I tend to take two shoelaces, tie them at one end and thread one through each side of the boot. I started to think it would be easier to take my shirt off than to empty the contents of it’s pocket, so I started to unbutton it. I was unlacing my boots. My belt slipped off. by the time I reached the conveyor belt I was stripped. Boots, Jacket, shirt, and belt along with my wallet and the complete contents of my pockets were off. The Jacket got it’s own bucket the rest in another. That was two buckets. This was just the beginning. the laptop was removed from its bag and both the bag and the laptop itself had to have their own buckets. That was four buckets. I went to place my bag in another bucket and realized a little of the toothpaste from earlier had dripped onto it. I grabbed my toothbrush to save it and started brushing my teeth. The bag and it’s bucket, that makes five buckets. Five buckets all for items belonging on my person. It crossed my mind that I might want to become a minimalist.
What script was I following? I felt as though I was following the madman script, or the never grow up script. I tend to be loud and manic in things and the whole process of disrobing and filling my buckets was no exception. I walked; barefoot with my sleevless Ramones undershirt and slax while brushing my teeth; through the metal detector.
“Good Evening Sir.” I bellowed to the security guard. I like to greet people respectfully as I did when I was in the Marine Corps, respectfully, loud and clear. Part of this is also so that they will in turn speak with a loud voice when addressing me due to the difficulty I often have hearing out of my left ear. He graciously let me through.
“Thank you Sir.” I said then rushed to recover my many buckets of belongings. It was then that I noticed something about my companions, my fellow travelers. All these people joining me in the terminal, they had on business suits. Business travel. I started walking to my terminal extremely disheveled, clinging to my belongings, my boots in hand brushing my teeth strolling over to my gate. My presence made all the stiffs in suits look up at me. They were like a bunch of little penguins. I looked around. There behind us was a glass seperating the captives of the terminal from the outside world. People lined up looking into the glass, gawking. I came to the harsh realization that I was in a human zoo. No wait! I wasn’t in a human zoo. I was in the penguin exhibit at the human zoo! All these business penguins and me the lone monkey must have appeared threatening, manic and ready to throw my feces at any moment. They knew I was capable of throwing my feces, I saw it in their eyes as I grinned at them.
I could tell that one of the penguins had taken an interest in me. He tried to adopt me as a friend. I could see the excitement and relief in his eyes to be so close to the monkey. He likes monkeys. That poor penguin just wished to be a monkey, but for some reason could not let go of his penguin script, so he sat there wanting to throw his feces and scream “Look mom! I’ve got poo!” He didn’t. I struck up a conversation with him. He was delighted, he felt special that the monkey would take interest and accept him. The poor little penguin started to gain confidence and believe he was also a monkey because the monkey talked to him.
“They made me throw away my toothpaste.”
“You can only have three ounces of liquids.”
“Toothpaste is a paste not a liquid!” I had to explain to him. I thought he would have enough common sense to figure that one out. I looked at his wingtips. So easy to slip off and on compared to my Docs. “I’ll never wear these boots while traveling again. Those are nice shoes, I need shoes like yours. I think I have a pair of wingtips back in Ohio with my brother.”
“yeah, it’s a pain taking them off.” I realized the small talk was completely unbearable. I rose with my belonging to find something to occupy my time and snack on. I scanned the terminal and saw a little food vendor. I confidently walked over to it past all the penguins. I saw a group of bucks sitting. They were covered in camouflage with outdoor woodsmen type baseball caps. These three were obviously flying out of town on some sort of hunting trip. They were sportsmen, burly, bearded and sockless. Right by them was the little stand.
I like fruit so I scanned it for some fruit. They had some of the biggest plumpest red delicious apples I had seen in a while. The guy attending the stand told me the price. I franticly searched my person for my wallet. I started to panic. I did not have it.
“Where’s my wallet?” I bellowed. Had I lost it? Was it at home? How did I have my drivers license to get in here if I did? After much panic I came to the realization that the reason my wallet was not in the pocket that I most often keep it in was because it was in my hand. It was a relief to discover that it was not far off at all. Once again I had managed to make a panic and a slight scene over the “missing” wallet. I walked off with my bottle of water and the engorged apple I purchased for five dollars. I headed back to my group of penguins.
An elderly couple sat beside me. They had that southern look to them. I smiled their way. The lady was in a wheel chair. He was wearing a flannel shirt. They seemed nice. I ate my apple and sipped my water. The apple was huge, juicy, and so fresh. I loved every minute of it, consuming it down to the core.

The stewardess came out and announced that all of our carry on luggage would not be able to be brought on board. I began to panic. What if I wanted to read one of the books crammed into my bag with my clothes? What if at that very moment when my bag was taken from me I realized I needed to read a passage from Revelations out of the King James Bible I was keeping there? What if I found that God was calling me to read from my Tanakh because there arose one urgent moment I needed to study the law? What if I needed to learn how to write well on the airplane, my writing guide was in there. What if I needed to read out of leisure? I had the great shark hunt in there. What if it dawned on me that I needed to freshen up, or put one of my shirts in the bag? Oh I did not like this at all.

Well, the rest will not go here, but I’ll put it all in something later…

so, To Be Continued God knows where…