January 5, 2022 – Click here to listen
Several years ago, I agreed to assist my son. My mission was clear: I was to fly up to NYC to try and help my son navigate through an important meeting. So, I drove to a nearby city to catch an early morning, (7 a.m.) direct flight the next day.
That night I couldn’t sleep and went to bed late and arose at 1 a.m. (only getting about 2 hours sleep). I worked on various projects on my laptop until it was time to go to the airport at 5:30.
I didn’t have much luggage to check and got my boarding pass at one of the computer terminals. I then walked down to security and just as I got through the security line I realized I’d left my laptop on top of the check-in computer terminal. So I told the TSA people I needed to go back out to retrieve it; they were really busy and frowned at me but told me to go ahead.
I hurried back and thank God it was still there. A young lady was suspiciously eyeing it and told me she was just getting ready to report it. I joked, “Did you think it was a bomb or something?”
She did not smile back, but instead when I mentioned the word “bomb”, she recoiled as though I’d pulled out a rattlesnake.
Oops! Not supposed to say that word in an airport even when joking. I hoofed it back down to security and fought my way back through the line. I put all my stuff in the trays and then proceeded to go through the metal detector.
As I walked through it emitted a loud BEEP! I pulled off my belt and tried to go through again, BEEP! What the . . . ????
The security guard told me to check my pockets. I’d already emptied them and couldn’t understand it. I patted down all of my pockets and then I got a very sick feeling; I distinctly felt the butt of my handgun in my back pocket.
Oh boy . . .
I sheepishly looked at the guard with a sick look and said, “Could you please hand me my things I need to go to my car for a minute?
He looked at me with a mean look and responded, “NO, once it’s gone through the machine it stays. Do you have something in your pocket?”
I glumly answered, “As a matter of fact I do; I have a handgun in my back pocket. I do have a concealed weapons permit to carry it and I’m so used to it being there that I forgot to leave it in the car.”
Oh boy . . . I didn’t like the look in his eyes. It was as though he just captured Jesse James.
Gulp . . .
Four men the size of gorillas immediately encircled me, and one went to get the supervisor. I told him what happened and showed him my concealed weapon permit. He asked which tray was mine and I pointed it out and he had someone bring it to me. He told me to go to my car and put the gun away.
Whew! I thought I’d go to jail. I hoofed it all of the way back to the parking lot; found my car and put my pistol under the seat. Then I ran all of the way back to and through the security line. (By now all of the TSA team was glaring at me.)
I immediately headed for my gate. Almost as soon as I sat down in my seat on the plane, the attendant instructed us to turn off all cellphones and the door slammed shut. Then as the plane began to be pushed back, I heard a turkey hen loudly yelping followed by a gobbler loudly answering, and then a shotgun went off and one could distinctly hear a shell being ejected; it was my special cell phone ring. In all the excitement I’d forgotten to turn my phone off.
Egad! I fumbled around and retrieved it and just as the attendant came over, I finally got the darn thing turned off. She looked at me with an inquisitive look, and I nonchalantly remarked that I’d forgotten to turn my phone off and someone had just called me.
She told me she thought she heard a monkey screaming and asked, “What was that?”
I replied that I had a turkey hunting ringtone on my cell phone. She must have been from NYC because she obviously didn’t understand the hunter mentality because she looked at me like I was maybe a little “Looney Tunes”.
By now I was sweating profusely. I was thinking one of two things is happening, either God is warning me not to go, (perhaps because the plane won’t make it), or I’m under satanic attack and that snake is trying to prevent me from giving my son some support in his important meeting.
It was too late to get off the plane anyway, so off I went to NYC. It arrived without incident, and I grabbed a cab to go downtown. As I stepped onto the streets of Manhattan the cold ripped through me like an icy blast and before I’d taken three steps, I couldn’t feel my feet. Even the lobby of the hotel was cold. I called my son and he told me he would be down in about 10 minutes; he said he had one more Power Point slide to create.
Huh?
I fought my way through all of this and now I’m not even allowed to go up to his room where it’s nice and warm???? I muttered okay and remembered that I’d had spied a Dunkin Donuts a couple of blocks away during my taxi ride and decided to go there.
BIG MISTAKE! I’d forgotten how cold it was outside and by the time I got there I was frozen numb and my feet, (which were covered by thin silk socks and cordovan street shoes), were blocks of ice. Snow was piled high on both sides of the road as was garbage and hordes of people were rushing around like ants from a recently stepped on ant pile.
Suddenly I wondered if it would hit the 70’s in beautiful Honey Lake today; I longed to be there instead of in this arm pit. After several donuts and hot coffee ,I went back to the hotel and finally connected with my son. We walked 5 blocks in the cold again to go to the meeting, but it went extremely well. Afterwards I hailed a cab and went back to the airport.
I passed through security without a hitch, but then as if to add an exclamation point to the end of my nightmare, I got all the way down to the gate and discovered that once again I’d left my laptop at security. I hoofed it back to security and luckily (again) retrieved it.
The plane arrived back in Florida at 9:30 p.m. that night and I drove all the way back home to Honey Lake arriving at midnight. I’d been up for 23 hours under constant stress.
So, I was sitting and writing Words for the Day and wondering what our dear Father was thinking when He decided to adopt a numbskull like me. I suppose the thing I admire most about our Savior is that He epitomizes mercy, compassion, and pure love.
So-o-o-o-o-o-o-o the next time one of your kids does something stupid and does not follow the rules cut them some slack in similar fashion. Remember how love is supposed to work. God loves us in spite of who we are and not because of it.
This is one of the few instances when it is okay to boast about something, so here goes: “I’ve been stupid since the day I was born!” I feel better now . . .
2 Cor. 12:9
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”