As I mentally pack for my trip before starting the actual packing:
I inherited this pin from my grandmother. I was startled to see Gov. Palin wearing a replica of it at one point, but I guess it means she can’t tell me I’m not a real American; I’ve got the jewelry to prove my bona fides. Heh. (What did they do, hand these out at a Republican convention once? I’d love to know the story behind this. Mom? Uncle Bob?)
My late grandfather, as I’ve mentioned before, was a Republican senator, and he amassed an eclectic collection of elephants over his 24 years in office. When he passed away at 95, each of his grandchildren was told to pick one out and take it home. I chose a small mostly-roundish handblown lead crystal one, beautifully crafted; note that the tip of its trunk is 4″ high and the little thing weighs over 10 ounces.
My knitting was of course in my carry-on bag for my flight home; I would never trust my projects to baggage handlers, much less fly without something to occupy me.
This was before 9/11. The airport screener ran my bag through and freaked, and I thought oh crud: I brought those because they’re not my favorite needles, but I should have remembered they were metal. I tried to reassure her: “It’s just knitting needles.” She shot me a look of oh you drop dead! that I thought was totally uncalled for, and in her panic, dropped everything and ran for the manager.
Leaving me with free access before me should I happen to care to nonchalantly pick up my bag and stroll away whistling. Which of course I wasn’t about to do, but…
The manager and the screener came running back. They started throwing everything out of my bag onto the conveyor helter-skelter. Given that I was only flying in and back for an overnighter, everything, actually, was in that carry-on, including my underwear, being shaken out and thrown aside during their search. Thanks, guys.
Then the screener saw the elephant. She suddenly knew. It had looked exactly on the screen how she’d been trained to see that a bomb would. She screeched in relief, grabbing it and holding it high for all the other screeners and the manager to see, starting to sob in relief.
While everybody behind me in line waited for me to repack my delicates. Joy.
During the flight afterwards, I dropped one of my straights as I was changing rows and it instantly rolled somewhere far behind me in the ascending plane. I never saw it again.
And I never knitted with metal straights again. Enough was enough.