Sitting in YYZ

I am, as of this very second, sitting in YYZ (Pearson International Airport) in the airport lounge. Apparently if you fly with IcelandAir, along with a number of others, you get to come to the lounge. For the most part I think I'd rather be in the normal waiting area - cans of beer mock me through minifridges that I fear to open.

Beside me a small child plays Sonic the Hedgehog on his internet terminal. And I'm not going to lie to you, that's pretty awesome. I keep trying to sneak a look at the url he's at, but I don't want to come across creepy. All I can see is "Spelletjes Kinderen".

As always, looking as I look, crossing through security is a delightful matter. This time I thought I was safe. I emptied all my pockets, I took off my shoes without being asked, and I was my charming self. But, as I noticed my shoes coming out before my bag (despite them going into the X-Ray in reverse order) I realized something was afoot.

I have never had someone completely unpack my carry-on before. This was a first. And what did he get for all of it? A look of embarrassment when he couldn't put my book back, and a held tongue when he saw my doll (Harley Quinn.) That's right. That doll has been more places than most people I know - it's more convenient and photogenic than a gnome. I'll not defend myself further.

What was the one thing I wasn't allowed to bring through security with me, you might ask? I will tell you - it, for I doubt you would have guessed. It was a stitch remover from a sewing kit. I know - I was a fool to have the sewing kit in my carry-on, and I'll never do it again, but of all the things to take out? The stitch remover? Quite possibly the most blunt thing in my bag. It has a little plastic ball top on it, that does not get removed.

With eyes laid low, the man who spent the better part of fifteen minutes walking through my earthy possessions for the year, said he'd have to check with his supervisor to see if it was O.K. or not. I assumed that, due to many of the ridiculous quasi-logical rules it would be forever lost to me - and not missed either.

In the back I could hear him arguing, and laughing thinking it was a joke when his supervisor said I couldn't keep it.

"What?! What do you mean? Look at it. It's blunt!" he cried.
"Nope, you can poke someone with it. Look - I'm poking your arm. Look." she replied in her best supervisory voice.

He informed me that it could no longer travel with me. I was fine with this. He seemed more upset, to be truthful. Ahh the bond of going through someones bag with them.

But now let us address this situation - a sewing kit, and that's what he takes? And my pens and pencils can poke just as much - though I declined to offer this information, for I know the rule of airports. You shut up and smile. It's a winning strategy. When they joke about my beard and say they need to check in it for small animals (Thank you Miami Airport - America's most improved airport of 2008 - which is terrifying to consider what it was like before the "improvements.") I just smile, move my beard, and go on my way.

Ahh well - all that is past now, and the little boys Sonic the Hedgehog crashed - so now I'll never know where he was playing (he couldn't re-discover it either. he's now playing a fishing for gold game. I don't know.)

Well that's all for now. My next post should be from Iceland. Enjoy.