Monday, August 15, 2005
My Son, the International Terrorist
Our trip to Florida, while fabulous, was not without its harrowing moments. Unbeknownst to us, we were harboring an international terrorist in our midst - our 8-year-old son James. As we attempted to check in like we normally do, at the kiosk, we were told that we could not use the kiosk, but must go to the ticket counter. At the counter, we were asked for our IDs over and over, then the attendant would get on the phone, then go into a back room for five minutes, at which time she would check our IDs again and then disappear once more. This went on several times. Then she asked who 'James' was. I told her it was my 8-year-old son. After several more phone calls and disappearances, she reluctantly allowed us to get tickets and proceed toward the plane.
Look at that face. Doesn't it strike fear into your heart?
I thought so.
Posted by Alicia Morgan at 6:32 PM