Posted: May 7, 2009 in Fiction

It was still fairly early in the morning, so the line at the airport security checkpoint wasn’t especially long yet. In that line, a twenty something white male waited to be allowed into the terminal. He stood about six feet tall, with a mane of blond hair pulled back in a ponytail that still reached halfway down his back. He wore a black hooded sweatshirt with the logo of some metal band to protect from the frosty Iowa morning, and black cargo pants. His shoes used to be white, but looked as though they had been worn every day for the better part of a year. He scratched at his unshaven face as the TSA officer waved the next person in line to the scanner. As the man shambled forward with the rest of the unusually well mannered zombies, he pulled his wallet out of his pocket. About eighteen inches of chain came with it, terminating at a belt loop on the man’s pants. He unfastened the chain and placed it in a red messenger style bag he had slung across his back. He clasped his hands together, and when they separated again, the ring he had been wearing was loose in the right hand. It too was deposited in the messenger bag. Still shuffling ahead, he pulled his belt out of its loops and coiled it up. Once again he dumped the removed item into the bag. His pants sagged awkwardly now, but that would have to be tolerated. He pulled off his necklace, watch, and sunglasses, and placed them in the bag. By this time, the four people ahead of him had gone through the metal detector’s plastic frame as one bored TSA agent watched the indicator light and the other hunched over a monitor with a glazed look as she inspected the x-rayed image of carryon luggage being conveyed through the scanner. As the man put the messenger bag into one of the grey plastic bins to be x-rayed, the agent watching the metal detector got out his wand. The man was used to this by now, but he still rolled his eyes. He hitched his black pants back up as he stepped through the metal detector, and waited. “Sir, would you please step over here?” asked the TSA agent. The man handed over his driver’s license and a plane ticket which functioned as both a stand-by ticket and a red flag, apparently, and stepped to the shoe-removal area. “Please remove your shoes and stand on the footprints,” the agent instructed. The man did as told and stood with his arms extended in the pose of an interrupted aerobic exercise and waited.

  1. Sylvera says:

    It’s good, you write it?

  2. Roberta says:

    I fly into DIA on July 22nd and out Aug 5th… don’t be a butt face this year… K! I am going to Baron’s war, if you can’t go that is fine… but you will see me this year… no matter what you think! I know how to find you… and find you, I will! I would appreciate it if you made it easy though!

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