Just a few more weary days and then...

Actually, I'm flying away Friday morning. So...less than a few days.

Flying in these troubled times is at first nerve-wracking, then rather hilarious. Because, seriously, even if my life were governed by statistics, which it isn't, there is still probably a greater statistical probability of me accidentally slicing a major artery with a box cutter on the job than of my plane being hijacked by terrorists. Boy, will this be an uncomfortable post to read if my plane IS hijacked by terrorists. If that happens, I would ask two things: one, try to see the funny side of this; and two, please take care of this bear...I mean, bird. Who will, speaking of flying, be getting his wings clipped so he doesn't kamikaze-attack his new sitter, not that this would be likely to happen. (She reads this blog.)

But enough about his flying (which won't happen). Back to mine.

The trauma and the hilarity of flying are one, and for "one" you could very well insert "baggage," except that wouldn't hold up well grammatically. Let's review my Big Baggage Fears of Labor Day Weekend 2006: 1) No water; 2) no chapstick; 3) no recourse if the TSA decides mobile phones really aren't allowed and that they'd rather throw mine in the trash. A quick review of some pertinent websites reveals that some people have bigger problems than I do! For instance, Northwest Airlines warns their passengers that they can "expect to be asked to remove all shoes at security checkpoints." ALL shoes, folks. Not both, but ALL. While you're thinking about that one, how about my favorite on the TSA's list of prohibited items: Spear Gun. Yes, fellow citizens, while I'm worried about my lips drying out and cracking, some Captain Ahab wanna-be is going to have to check his dream at the gate.

It was good to see this sign that the TSA was thinking of me when they created their website: "We also ask that you follow the guidelines above and try not to over-think these guidelines. "

Awww.

They don't call him Big Brother for nothing.