Thursday, August 6, 2009
M.O.M. This time, my mother tests airport security...
My mom flew home from Dallas today. She was doing the nice grandmotherly thing and visiting my sister's two adorable kids. About the time I expected her to be home I got a weird text message from my dad:
"Mom landed on time but was detained by TSA because they found a .45 caliber shell in her purse."
WHAT?! My dad suffers from sarcasm but this is waaay out of line.
My mind is a twitter as I picture my poor mom trying to explain random ammunition in her purse. And then I get the whole story...
IT'S HER BULLET! SHE'S CARRYING STRAY BULLETS IN HER PURSE! IT'S JUST ROLLING AROUND IN HER PURSE LIKE A TUBE OF LIPSTICK!
My hand can't hit my forehead enough times to make this story make any sense. Have I woken up in a parallel universe where my own mother is now the new Bonnie without Clyde?
Airport+mom+bullet=SECURITY! Probably the most exciting thing the security agent's seen since his $5 footlong. All the while my mom is just standing there at the end of the conveyor belt, probably filing her nails and patiently waiting for her WEAPON to pass inspection.
"Well, I thought I'd gotten them all out but I guess I missed one," she says. I say that about tampons, not bullets.
"I had it in my new Coach purse." BAAAARGH. Sadly Coach's spring line has become a dead giveaway for felons since it failed to include a holster or bullet case.
"It's for when I go to West Virgina next week." This I can understand, I've seen Deliverance.
A) I didn't know my mother even owned a gun.
B) I don't know why my mother even owns a gun
C) I don't know IF my mother owns a gun. Maybe it's just the bullets.
I tell you what, ever since all the kids moved out and she started riding that motorcycle, things have gotten out of hand, out of hand.