A Word for Living Creatures

Check your baggage. No, don’t check it. Luggage is not required. Perhaps it is. Yes. Check it, tag it, whatever, with the luggage clerk. Deny everything. Refuse to open your carry-on bag. Say you’re carrying some type of aerosol product. Shaving cream, maybe. Or hairspray. Something. Refuse to let them scan your electronic devices. Somebody might be spying. Big brother or big sister. Don’t take off your shoes or the Rolex. A strip search? Sure, why not. Make my day, as he used to say. The security guard isn’t impressed with your sense of humor, slams your forehead against the table. What’s this, a full-on cavity search? No, I’d prefer not to, as someone else said. Be belligerent or stoic, whichever one pisses off the guard more. Turn your dollar bills into change. Fill your pockets with it. Your pants are so heavy, they’re almost falling down. It’s a good thing you decided to wear a belt. You accessorized it with a heavy-duty belt buckle? Where’d you get that? The local truck dealer? Never mind. Forget I asked. Give the change to the homeless man who shined your shoes, the one who told you your luck was about to change. About to run out is more like it, but we’re speaking of mere details. Forget about them. Give the change to the man, tell him to buy a ticket.