At least one hundred times I repeated it. While I circled the block for an available parking place I repeated it. "Out by noon." I silently chanted as I gave in and paid the attendant twenty dollars to park so I could make it to the courthouse on time to do my civic duty, which by the way paid eight dollars.
"Out by noon." As the nice Sheriff's Deputy informed me that I had to remove my shoes to pass through the metal detector.
"Remove my shoes? Are you kidding me? Walk on this floor barefoot? Does hand sanitizer work on feet?"
You'll have to take off your belt. "Out by noon."
Is there anything in your pockets? "Out by noon."
I took off my watch. I surrendered my sunglasses. I did everything short of dropping trow in the courthouse lobby.
No luck.
Please step to the side, the nice Deputy said, which was embarrassing, but good, considering an angry mob of potential jurors was gathering behind me waiting for their turn for Homeland Security humiliation.
As I stood arms outstretched shoeless, beltless, and humorless, the nice Deputy proceeded to wave the magic hand held metal detection device in the air in front of me as if he were a Water Witch with an out of control divining rod.
It only took a few seconds (based on the smirk on the nice Deputy's face and the vicinity of the offending metal object) for me to realize what the problem was.
I knew I shouldn't have worn the bra.
Out by noon-T
photo by sitting rock on Flickr
Post a Comment