From the Desk of Murray Lincoln: I HATE TERRORISTS and miss my Saskatoon Berry Jam

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I HATE TERRORISTS and miss my Saskatoon Berry Jam

I hate Terrorists! There I said it. Oh I know I am not supposed to hate anyone. Dislike maybe – but Hate – no. Hate kills my inner person… Dislike just keeps me away from stuff that bothers me.

I think I disliked Terrorist up to Monday 22, 2013 at around 12:10 PM. At that moment in time everything stood still and everyone around me began to move in slow motion. Aghhhaaaa! Now I hate the Terrorists – completely, absolutely and overwhelmingly HATE them!!

It all happened in Regina, Saskatchewan’s air terminal. We had checked in our bags and received confirmation that we were ready to go. There was no weather delay, mechanical problems with the aircraft, nor problems with the Pilot and Crew not showing up. It was all a go.

Along with us we were pulling our “carry-on” bags which were to be stowed above our seats in the small luggage department.

We approached the security area where white plastic containers were available to place all of your personal items along with the “carry-on” bags. The white plastic containers were then threaded through the X-Ray machine where the stern looking, anti-terrorist, officiate looking guard searched for explosives and contraband of all sorts.

In my opinion, these highly trained individuals once tried working as greeters at a Wall Mart but failed the exam because they were too dower and sour.

While looking directly at both my wife and me, then asking the same stern question, “Do you have any liquids or jells over 150 mls in your bags?”

“No” was our simple answer.

“No” from me because I had my computer and the other electronic toys stashed safely and you don’t put liquids near your computer!

“No” from my wife was alright, just, and even “righteous” as it was delivered to the nail swallowing lady behind the conveyor belt. And my wife definitely looks less like a Terrorist than I do!

While I was pulled off to the side for a “squeal test” with the electronic wand, by the big guy with the uniform, asked to remove my shoes, and then felt all over by his less than sexy hands… my wife stood waiting for her bags to come through. There was a cluster of people now looking at the X-Ray screen. Good Lord NO! They found something in her bag. I broke into a sweat… and the big guy touching me all over could sense the fear oozing from my pores… and he went over me again, this time squeezing my shoeless sock feet.

I limped over to my wife and the questioning officer after the big dude let me go.

Oh no… they found that my wife had stashed her two – one litre jars of Saskatoon Berry Jam in her carry-on. They had her bag opened and the stuff all laid out for all the other passengers to see as they walked by quietly shaking their heads… thinking… “Am I ever glad they caught that old lady before she blew up our aircraft!”

My wife was apologizing to the uniformed officer and me. Then she asked what we should do. He told us that we might be able to take it downstairs to the ticket counter, pay the extra fee of $20 for the more than one bag fee.

Another dear guard stopped this conversation in midair however when he asked, “Would you open this pouch please?” while he held up the small lace container, “There is a knife in here with the nail clippers.”

My wife in a slightly elevated tone told him flatly that “We arrived with that same package from Toronto, why wouldn’t it go through here?” The guy seemed pleased his crew had outdone the big city crew that had missed this lethal weapon riveted to the nail clippers. Her comment only heightened his deep pleasure earned at that moment.

My wife turned to me and with pleading eyes asked me to take the carry-on downstairs and check it in. So I did.

I pushed through the 30 plus people that were collecting in a long line for their turn to be frisked by the officiates and power people. Over to an elevator, pushed the button and waited for the slow doors to open and then close. The line waiting was growing longer.

At the ticket counter the lady looked at my ticket and the bag shaking her head. “I can’t get this bag on that flight, it is too late, and they have already loaded the bags. It won’t make it.”

It was then at that very moment that I made the cataclysmic decision and in my mind I went from “DISLIKE” to pure “HATE” for every ding dang Terrorist in the world. Beside that half full garbage can I unzipped that stupid bag, reached in for the two litre jars of Saskatoon Berry Jam, extracted the contraband and through them in with a THUD!!!

I then ran to the slow elevator slightly out of breath and in a sweat.

The line upstairs had now grown to over 45 people all pushing slowly ahead. These folk were heading to Calgary – NOT TORONTO! Their flight was in another half hour. I looked through the security glass and past the X-Ray machinery, the fat dude, the sour lady and the rest of the security folk.

Oh no! The Toronto aircraft was being loaded now!

There was no way that I was about to stand in line again, be patted down, and still have the bag X-Rayed again! But no… and yes… I had to go through the whole routine all over again.

Without any semblance of order, and avoiding all the nice-ities of the dear prairie folk, I pushed past 42 people, cut into line in front of a Calgary-ian and put my bag on to the X-Ray conveyor belt. I then stepped through the beeper machine, set off the lights again, and prepared for the next big sexless feel up by the guy with the electronic stick – who by the way was a new guy that hadn’t suspected or inspected me yet.

The whole crew was now aware of this red faced, potential Terrorist that had been carrying the contraband jars of jam. They all looked at me I am sure. The 45 or so passengers that I cut in on and pushed aside were glaring at me as well.

And there lovingly looking at me with some concern was my dear wife, sitting and waiting patiently for her hubby.

I finally cleared the Security Cluster and the angry mob of Calgary passengers. I slumped down beside my wife as she looked at the non-checked in carry-on… I stated flatly, “I through the Jam in the garbage can. They couldn’t take the bag – it was too late…”

My tone, my red face, my internal disgust for Terrorist around the world was enough for her to realize that she had better not ask if I was okay! I slowly simmered and waited for our seat boarding to take place. The back half of the aircraft had been loaded – we were next.

I love Saskatoon Berry Jam. We paid good dollars for that much and were going to share it with others. It was a wonderful souvenir of Saskatchewan. But as our aircraft lifted from the runway I asked myself, “HOW IN THE HECK CAN YOU BLOW UP AN AIRPLANE WITH SASKATOON BERRY JAM?????!

God… I Hate Terrorists… and I missed my JAM this morning.

~ Murray Lincoln ~

www.murraylincoln.com

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