RSS

Tag Archives: travel

LOSING MY MIND—FINDING IT AGAIN!

Do you know what I discovered today?  I am back home, which may come as a surprise to my readers because you thought I was home all along during my much-announced spring break.  Well . . . you see, what had happened was . . .

I started off the week with great intentions:  to commune with nature while I pulled together my garden for the season.  What could be better?  But if you’ve been following my blog for any amount of time, you will know that in my new retirement abode, I am at war with the moles, the voles, and the deer.  Everyone told me when I moved here that I would lose that war with these creatures (my home backs up to a nature preserve), but I refused to believe them. And then the pollen swirled and landed—like an apocalyptic yellow blanket causing me to sneeze my head off every time I poked my Allegra-saturated noggin out of the house to spray some animal-go-away spray at a pesky creature.  Everything was covered in yellow dust, making me want to personally ring Mother Nature’s neck.  So several days after I announced in my blog that I was going to spend my entire spring break working outside in my yard, I threw away the garden shovel, the Mole-b-gone, the allergy meds, and the Deer FU spray and surrendered my land to its original inhabitants and their allergy dust.  (Have you ever noticed that squirrels, birds, moles, voles, and deer don’t sneeze even when they are knee deep in pollen as they devour your newly planted mole and deer resistant shrubs which have cost you hundreds of dollars?  What’s up with that?)

Garden Issues Dave Granlund Politicalcartoons com

Cartoon Used by Permission: Dave Granlund, Politicalcartoons.com

I came indoors and tried to work on my third book, but I soon lost interest because I couldn’t see through the film of allergy tears streaming down my cheeks, puffy frog-eyes, and allergy snot dripping from my nose like a broken faucet.  (Apparently, pollen can still get into a hermetically sealed house—who knew?)  Blowing my nose every third word became a chore, so I figured that maybe I needed a rest from both my garden and my writing and turned to that great intellectual stimulation:  Facebook.

Let me make one thing clear:  I hate Facebook.  So you know that I have to be pretty desperate if I start trolling that colossal waste of time.  Since FB changed its format by adding “like” options, I have to confess that I don’t have a clue how to use them or even if I want to use them, but I thought I’d give them that good ol’ college try and figure the system out.  After fiddling around with a few of Facebook’s “like” options on some of my friends’ pages, I got bored as hell and wanted to kill myself.  (How do people spend day in and day out cruising FB pages without going insane?)  I swear I left 30% of my brain cells on the Altar of Zuckerman as I tried to “connect” with “friends” and saw an eternity’s worth of pictures of “the most delicious meal I’ve eaten—ever,” the greatest vacation, the most adorable babies crawling, walking, pooping, or gurgling like every other baby in the world who has done so since the beginning of time.  AUUUGH!

Facebook Likes Nate Beeler The Columbus Dispatch

Cartoon used by permission: Nate Beeler, The Columbus Dispatch

And don’t even get me started on the news.  When my news feed began to alternate between that demon Trump’s Neanderthal antics . . .

Trump Lord of Darkness John Cole The Scranton TimesTribune

. . . or whether my vagina was going to be a matter of inspection by the toilet police the next time I walked into a North Carolina restroom, I almost lost it.

Restroom Rules Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star Tribune

Cartoon used by permission: Steve Sack, The Minneapolis Star-Tribune

This was supposed to be a time of rest for me but I was so restless—so fucking bored and agitated that I was beginning to get on even Jesus’ nerves!  I mean I realized the problem was me.  My equilibrium was off.  The politics, the madness, and the chaos had sucked out my sense of well-being, and I didn’t know how to get it back until my sweet man (WW—“White and Wonderful”) came to the rescue.  (WW always comes to the rescue when I’m like this—frazzled, overwrought, and not much good to myself or anybody else.)

WW:  Hey Cutie, I know what you need—a change of scenery to foster a different mindset without any access to news or moles.

ME:  I’m intrigued.  Tell me more.

WW:  What has seven islands, monkeys, lizards, diamonds, and lots of sea and sand?  Is your passport up-to-date?  Can you say rum punch three times fast without tripping up your tongue?

ME:  Okay, I give up.  What?

WW:  A 12-day cruise to Aruba, Curacao, St. Lucia, St. Kitts, Barbados, Antigua, and St. Maarten.

ME:  SHUT UP!?!  When do we leave?

WW:  As soon as you can pack.  BUT . . . you have to promise me one thing:  you cannot watch any news for twelve days, and you must swear that you will retool your mind to live more in the moment.

ME:  Really, Yoda, How do I do that?

WW:   I have no idea, but we’re not getting any younger and life as we know it is slip-sliding away at a depressingly fast rate.  How about focusing on being mindful in the moment instead of stressing out about what is going to happen tomorrow or worrying about things you can’t control?  In fact, I bought you a few thousand books to consider as traveling/reading companions:  Mindfulness: An Eight-Week Plan for Finding Peace in a Frantic World, Mindfulness for Beginners: Reclaiming the Present Moment and Your Life, Mindfulness in Plain English, Little Book of Mindfulness: 10 minutes a day to less stress, more peace, Mindfulness: Mindfulness For Anxiety Relief—How To Use Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction Meditation Exercises…, Mindfulness in Everyday Life: How to Stop Worries and Stress and Enjoy Peace and Happiness with Mindfulness and…, Wherever You Go, There You Are…

ME:  Okay, okay, I get your point.  I’ll go away with you and try and get my sanity back.  IN THE MEANTIME I’M GOING ON A CRUISE!

Celebrity Cruise Ship

CELEBRITY ECLIPSE, Photo Credit by E. Tomczyk

Along with my bathing suit, my Gucci shades, my sea-sickness bands, and the latest Adele album, I packed Jon Kabat-Zinn’s Wherever You Go There You Are, and I began to forget all about Trump and Cruz, moles and voles, ISIS and chaos, and a Republican Party gone completely mad.  I became one with my surroundings and the world became my oyster.

Iggy the Iguana

IGGY THE IGUANA: Photo Credit by E. Tomczyk

It didn’t take me long to get into my new state of mindfulness, and boy did my world open up when I started paying attention to what was in front of me and not what I feared would happen tomorrow or mourn over what had happened yesterday.  I met a little dude called Iggy the Iguana in Curacao.  He told me how much he loved a mosquito-rum cocktail and how much he hated owls and snakes.  How the world would be a much better place without either of those predators, thank you very much.  I tended to agree with him about the snakes.

Willemstads Harbour Curacao By Mtmelendez at the English language Wikipedia

Willemstads Harbour Curacao: Photo Credit by Mtmelendez at the English language, Wikipedia

Curacao took my breath away, and I considered moving there for a nano-second because they have no moles and voles. I swear it looked like what I had imagined heaven to be, but WW said he liked his mole/vole retirement space back in Virginia, and maybe I was taking this mindfulness thing a little too seriously.

Turtles for sale

WATER BOARD BUSINESSMAN: Photo Credit by E. Tomczyk

I became friends with a camera-shy, water-board businessman who tried to sell me two turtles for $20 (“han crafted by me own hans, darlin’, right out of volcanic rock”), which I later discovered were made in China, sold on all seven islands, and were probably worth seventy-five cents apiece.  But in my new “zen state” I thought his scam was hysterical as I exclaimed to my husband:  “I’m being cheated by one of the locals—isn’t life simply delightful” (said no one ever!).

Pitons

GROS AND PETIT PITONS IN ST. LUCIA: Photo Credit by E. Tomczyk

I sailed past the Gros and Petit Pitons in a sailboat in total silence, and I was humbled by the realization of the power of what a volcanic eruption can do.  According to Wikipedia, “at least 148 plant species have been recorded on Gros Piton, 97 on Petit Piton and the intervening ridge, among them eight rare tree species. The Gros Piton is home to some 27 bird species . . . three indigenous rodents, one opossum, three bats, eight reptiles and three amphibians.”

Catamarans II

CATAMARAN #5: Photo Credit by E. Tomczyk

I lost count of the catamarans I went on—chillin’ with my rum punch while WW went snorkeling.  IMP. NOTE:  I don’t do water—anyone who knows me knows this is one diva who does not immerse herself in wet stuff.  In fact, one of the captains of one of the myriad catamarans I sailed on “playfully” threatened to throw me overboard to join my husband, whether I wanted to snorkel or not.  Without missing a beat, I emerged from my “mindfulness” mindset and announced to all who had ears to hear (including the angels in heaven and the fishes in the sea):  “Young man, if you toss me overboard, the next thing you will be doing is singing with Jesus because I will personally kill you.”  He bowed in homage to me, gave me two more rum punches, and I returned to my zen-like state of “being in tune with where I was.”

St. Martins

ST. MAARTEN: Photo Credit by E. Tomczyk

The Diva took a tempting stroll down diamond row in St. Maartens and almost got hooked on a cute little bracelet that was simply “to die for,” but at the last moment remembered that she had enough bling to last a lifetime, and that greed was unbecoming to her new spiritual state of just “being.”

monkey 2

MARVIN GAY, THE VERVENT MONKEY AND WW: Photo by E. Tomczyk

Ran into Marvin Gay in St. Kitts.   He told me that he was a Vervent monkey, and he and his peeps rule that island. He said his ancestors came to St. Kitts on the slave ships from Africa in the 1600s as pets to the French.  Says his great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather helped lead a Vervent monkey revolt against their owners during the local wars in 1666 between the British and the French, and that his ancestors escaped their cages and roamed the island in gangs raiding crops and causing horrendous mischief.  He said if I didn’t believe him, I should check out the diary of one Father Labat, a French Priest.  I told him I would do as he instructed if he promised not to shit on my husband’s head (he looked like he was contemplating just such an action).  When I got back to the ship, I checked out the following essay from the library which sported the following quote about Marvin Gay’s relatives:

“Their [Vervent] frolics are mischievous, their thefts dexterous. They are subtle enemies and false friends. When pursued, they fly to the mountain and laugh at their pursuers, as they are little ashamed of a defeat as a French admiral or general. In short, they are the torment of planters; they destroy whole cane pieces in a few hours and come in troops from the mountain, whose trees afford them shelter. No methods to get the better of them has yet been found out.”—Professor Frank Ervin or a member of his team at the Behavioral Science Foundation located at Estridge Estate on St. Kitts in response to a request from the St. Christopher Heritage Society

WW and Monkey

MARVIN, THE VERVENT MONKEY: Photo by E. Tomczyk

Marvin kept his word, and I maintained my mindfulness—amazed what one can learn when one is mindful.  (Who knew that iguanas and monkeys could communicate in English?)

Happiness

Photo Credit:  E. Tomczyk, My Man and Me doin’ the “Mindful” thing

***

ELEANOR’S SELAH (“AHA MOMENT”) ABOUT MINDFULNESS

I am discovering that according to Jon Kabat-Zinn the lack of mindfulness “…scavenges to fill time, conspires with my mind to keep me unconscious and lulled in a fog of numbness to a certain extent. It has me unavailable to others, missing the play of the light on the table, the smells in the room, the energies of the moment.  Stillness, insight, and wisdom arise only when we can settle into being complete in this moment, without having to seek or hold on to or reject anything.”

All joking aside, I am trying to turn over a new leaf.  I think this mindfulness thing is what I need at this stage.  If at almost 68, I can’t settle down and smell the island flowers then I don’t know when I’m going to do so because at this point of my journey, this life is as good as it gets for me.  Of course, maybe mindfulness is just learning how to pay attention—period.

***

INSPIRATIONAL QUOTES ABOUT MINDFULNESS

“Mindfulness is about love and loving life. When you cultivate this love, it gives you clarity and compassion for life, and your actions happen in accordance with that.”Jon Kabat-Zinn

“Mindfulness helps us freeze the frame so that we can become aware of our sensations and experiences as they are, without the distorting coloration of socially conditioned responses or habitual reactions.”Henepola Gunaratana

 “When you have children, you realize how easy it is to not see them fully, and perhaps miss all those early years. If you are not careful, you can be too absorbed in work, and they will be only too happy to tell you about it later. Being a parent is one of greatest mindfulness practices of all.”Jon Kabat-Zinn

“I’m pretty much done with mindfulness. I’m just going to start paying attention.”Gina Barreca

INSPIRATIONAL QUOTES: www.brainyquotes.com

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR?  Check out www.eleanortomczyk.com

WANT TO READ THE AUTHOR’S LATEST BOOKS?  Monsters’ Throwdown and Fleeing Oz are both on sale at Amazon (hardcopy and Kindle).

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
12 Comments

Posted by on April 24, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , ,

There’s No Place Like Home

Do you know what I’ve discovered?   Sometimes living in America makes my head hurt—especially when one is a humorist who draws stories from real life, and real life can sometimes be overrun with fools.  No matter what TV channel I turned on last week, there was something stupidly disheartening about living in the good ol’ US of A:

An old-fart of a man thought his basketball team was a plantation and racism was his passkey.

 Georgia passed a “guns everywhere law” (guns in churches, guns in bars—yeah, that should work out well).

And a proven duplicitous head of the LA NAACP resigned after admitting he was well on his way to giving the racist basketball team owner a lifetime achievement award in civil rights for previous monetary contributions (WTF?).  No amount of awards could disprove the onerous racism of the team owner, but it does prove that the LA NAACP needs a major moral overhaul and new leadership. There are no winners here.

Viewers David Horsey Los Angeles Times

Cartoonist:  David Horsey/LA Times

As a mother and a grandmother, I was frightened to say the least.  As a humorous writer, I was drained.  There is nothing funny about deep-seated racism, proliferating gun availability, and downright stupidity bolstered by alleged payola to a group that is supposed to be one of our guardians against racism.  And don’t get me started about the incessant attacks against our President by people who resent his election and reelection.  After returning from a promotion gig for my new book, Monsters’ Throwdown, I made my malaise known to my husband (WW), and he came up with a “get out of Dodge” plan.

WW:     Go somewhere else.  I’m off to Europe for a while—why don’t you meet me in Germany for the weekend?  There is nothing like trying to navigate a country whose language one doesn’t speak to give one perspective.  Given your ability to turn into a chocolate Lucille Ball at the slightest provocation, you should have entertaining blog fodder within the first 24 hours.  Hell, just trying to get you through the TSA screening will provide me with tons of laughter and you with at least three posts.

ME:        Excuse me, buster!  I’ll have you know that I traveled all over Germany 46 years ago as a choir soloist (singing in German, thank you very much!), and I got by okay on two-years of ghetto high school German.

WW:     Oh, really?  How much German vocabulary do you remember forty-six years later?

ME:        Um . . . besides “bitte” (please), “danke” (thank you), and “guten morgen” (good morning).  I remember three very vital sentences:  Wo ist die Toilette?  Ich habe das Reizdarmsyndrom.  Ich bin  zwei minuten nur vor blitzkrieg. (Where is the bathroom?  I have irritable bowel syndrome. I only have two minutes before she blows!)

WW:     Yep, this is going to be worth the price of admission.

Leg Room John Cole The Scranton Times Tribune

Used by permission: “Leg Room” John Cole, The Scranton Times-Tribune

So off I flew for my 3-day adventure in Germany.   I flew economy class—although WW assured me that I had won the lottery when I got the new TSA preferred pre-clearance ticket:  no removal of shoes, no pulling out the bag of 3oz liquids, no removal of my sweater, and no threatening to yank the wig off my head and run it through the x-ray machine because the bobby-pins tripped the scanner.  In other words I’d be treated like a human being.

The pre-screen was a joke for me, of course.  I kept tripping the scanner over and over again (was it the stays in my “over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder,” was it the fillings in my teeth, or could it be my rubber-soled shoes?), leading to me being patted down and ordered to remove everything except my back teeth.  (Next time, don’t do me any favors TSA—just stuff me into the unpre-screened “orgasmitron” and continue to let my naked body be comedy fodder for the backroom TSA pervs.

TSA Daryl Cagle CagleCartoons com

The TSA and Our Liberties:  Used by permission | Daryl Cagle CagleCartoons.com

Once I was on the plane, I surveyed the lay of the land and determined that there were two bathrooms for a couple hundred people in economy, so another passenger and I tried to sneak into first class to use the potties.  My comrade got through unnoticed, but the German stewardess caught me just as I rounded the bend:  “Wo gehst du hin?” (Where are you going?)

ME:        Ich habe das Reizdarmsyndrom.  Ich bin zwei minuten nur vor blitzkrieg!!!

FLUGBEGLEITERIN (flight attendant):  Zurück zur Economy-Klasse! (Get your sorry-ass back into economy class!)

I didn’t sleep a wink on the plane, but I hit the ground running.  I took a trip up the Rhine on a boat full of nice people from all over the world viewing medieval castles with colorful histories. . .

“But let me talk of its castle. . . . [Heidelberg Castle] What times it has been through! Five hundred years long it has been victim to everything that has shaken Europe, and now it has collapsed under its weight. That is because this Heidelberg Castle, the residence of the counts Palatine, who were answerable only to kings, emperors, and popes, and was of too much significance to bend to their whims, but couldn’t raise his head without coming into conflict with them, and that is because, in my opinion, that the Heidelberg Castle has always taken up some position of opposition towards the powerful.”Victor Hugo (1838)/Wikipedia

I drank tons of wonderful German wine and consumed wonderful stews, bratwurst, Wiener schnitzel, and some kind of boiled egg in dill sour cream sauce that I could have definitely done without.  But nothing could beat the view while I ate it sitting in the old town square of Heidelberg.

***

I am discovering that after observing every traveler I saw and chatting with some of them, that we all have many things that are lovely about our histories and ourselves.  My greatest take-away was how similar we all are—from the Japanese tourist to the German waitress to the American traveler.  But we also have our shameful places of hatred, spite, disdain, contempt, and genocide.  I didn’t visit the darker side of Germany this time around.  I didn’t want to.  I did notice how 46 years ago there was a palpable sense of shame and heaviness upon the German people.  This time I sensed none of that, and that is good.  But they must never forget the evil their ancestors were capable of.  It still boggles my mind that a predominantly Christian nation created the demonic infernos of the death camps—just as my countrymen must never forget the immoral stain of slavery and the brutality of the Apartheid Jim Crow era, while we continually strive towards better days as a nation and as a people.

I was glad to return home.  I love my country and all its people (well, maybe not the haters).  I didn’t sleep on the return flight either, but I didn’t think I was any worse for wear until I looked in the mirror once I got in the cab.  I wondered why the custom agent stared at me so intently and questioned me so thoroughly.  Oh well, at least I learned something while I was away.

Beyonce How you think you look www vibe com

 “Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.”Maya Angelou

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.” ― Mark Twain, The Innocents Abroad/Roughing It

“Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.” ― Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky

REFERENCES

http://thegrio.com/2014/05/01/naacp-la-chapter-head-leon-jenkins-resigns-over-sterling-award-controversy/ 

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
3 Comments

Posted by on May 10, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , ,

The TSA and Me

Do you know what I’ve discovered?  Fear of the unknown plagues us from kindergarten to the grave.  It might even start at birth; maybe that is the reason for the blood-curdling cry that all babies cut loose when they take their first gulp of air—“What the fuck is going on, and why didn’t anyone warn me about what to expect on this third rock from the sun?”  My grandson started kindergarten today, and when asked how he was handling it all, as he resolutely marched toward the school with a grimace on his face, he replied:  “I feel a little crunchy inside—you know—I’m a little bit waggy.”  I just had an encounter with the TSA this weekend (when will they ever get over the fact that I’m black with a Polish name and I dress like a diva?), and I know exactly what my grandson means.

TSA School Starts

Used by permission:  Cartoonist, David Fitzsimmons—The Arizona Star

I’m one of the most organized people on the planet.  I am so because I don’t like surprises.  I’m not interested in the unknown popping up when I least expect it and messing with me.  When you’ve been raised by a pack of wolves as a child like I was, chaos follows you around like a cluster of tornados.  You can surrender to the mayhem and lose your soul, or you can try to put up knowledgeable barriers to shield your life and keep that shit at bay.  Before any unknown procedure or journey, I ask questions (every which way but Sunday), I research, and I practice, practice, practice.  (If I have to drive to a new location for a doctor’s appointment or the like, I’ll practice how to get there the day before so as not to get lost on the day of and end up being late.)  My methodology is exhausting but at least I am usually well-prepared, on time, and in command. There are rarely any surprises in my life—except when it comes to the TSA.  I don’t know what it is about those people and me, but no two trips are ever the same when it comes to me passing through their realm unscathed.

TSA Clean Underwear Bob Englehart The Hartford Courant

Used by permission:  Cartoonist Bob Englehart, The Hartford Courant

I just got back from a trip this weekend and despite all my best efforts, I got patted down by the TSA (TSA probably mistook my fluffer-nutter, post-menopausal belly to be ideal smuggling encasement for drugs?), my head got swiped with a wand (TSA probably thought wig was a great camouflage for an Uzi?), and I took my 567th nudie pic in the “Orgasmatron known as the full-body scan” (TSA probably thought my old-lady bits were perfect hiding places for explosives?).   But I’m used to this and come prepared because the TSA can’t get over the chocolate face with the Polish name.  It sends them into tilt every time.  I usually carry a white man with me and announce loudly that I belong to him as I pass through the security line (“Coming through and I’m married to the white dude up ahead”).  I travel with my passport at all times so that the black face and the Polish last name carry more gravitas.  It usually works—but not this time.  As I bent over to put my shoes back on after running the gauntlet, something goosed me in the ass—not once, but twice!  When I stood up to see what it was, it turned out to be a bomb-sniffing dog and his handler.

TSA Pat Down Nate Beeler The Columbus Dispatch

Used by permission: Nate Beeler, The Columbus Dispatch

Now what that dog thought I had up my ass is beyond me!  I wanted to say something (“WTF!”) so badly when the cop scrutinized me up and down as his bomb-sniffing dog circled in and around me and my stuff.   But I knew I’d get hauled off to some holding room for questioning and miss the flight to my grandson’s 5th birthday party.  So I pulled myself together and continued on my way, and I ran right into another TSA person a couple yards away who menacingly took a picture of me without explanation.  His face read:  “Slightly chunky terrorist/drug-mule with Polish name got past canine but still remains suspicious—documenting her features in case there is an issue on the other end.”  Like the canine handler, the picture taker looked mean but he didn’t say a word—he just clicked away.   By this point in the TSA maze, I couldn’t tell why they thought I looked suspicious.  As I started to confront the TSA camera man to explain himself, my husband grabbed my arm and shuffled me off toward our gate before I could say a word as if to say: “Choose your battles, Cutie—there is nothing you could have done to prepare for this.”

Well, I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ve decided that I think I’m going to prepare for my next flight by wearing a sign to the airport in order to make my passageway a little smoother.

DEAR TSA PEEPS:

I’ve done everything you’ve asked and complied with all the rules and still you mess with me when I travel.  I know I don’t look Polish, but it doesn’t mean I stole my identification and am traveling incognito as a drug mule or a terrorist.  Trust me, if I were going to steal a name it would be something like Juliette Binoche or Isabelle Adjani—not Tomczyk (sorry Honey), and if I were going to be a drug mule, I’d look like Angelina Jolie.  In fact, if you think I’ve stolen my identity then I suggest you return to profiling school for another go-around with an addendum covering “How Sixty-five-year-old Black Divas Roll.”  As to my enticing behind, my perfume probably messed with your dog’s sense of smell the last time, because I did a pass-over on my ass with a spritz of Very Irresistible Perfume by Givenchy before we left the house.  The scent was supposed to arouse my husband not your canine patrol.   I promise not to be so heavy-handed next time.

*

WW (my husband) says he doesn’t plan to travel with me on the days I bring my sign because he is not prepared for the unknown world of going to jail.   Just the thought of being thrown in jail by the TSA because his wife can’t keep her mouth shut makes him all “crunchy and a little bit waggy” inside.

TSA Check Dignity Rick McKee The Augusta Chronicle

Used by permission: Rick McKee, The Augusta Chronicle

I am discovering that there are a lot of things in life that you cannot prepare for:  a couple of them are the first day you enter kindergarten and every time you encounter the TSA.   The “unknown” is meant to build courage in us as we fight the good fight of living life.  I’ll tell my grandson that the best way to conquer the unknowns in kindergarten is to put one foot in front of the other and charge full speed ahead, trusting that he will wind up where he’s supposed to be in due time.  I’ll have to do the same thing when I travel and determine to keep my mouth shut no matter how humiliating the pre-boarding process becomes.  Besides, I have an eerie feeling that the real terrorists are just thrilled with the undignified tangles they have embroiled us in, and they are hoping we’ll all lose our minds in the process.   I must never give them the satisfaction of having a meltdown.  Why would terrorists ever need to bomb us as long as the TSA is hell-bent on traumatizing diva grandmothers on their way to visit their grandkids?  Just the thought of it does make one all crunchy and a little bit waggy inside!

TSA Full Cavity John Darkow Columbia Daily Tribune Missouri

Used by permission:  John Darkow, Columbia Daily Tribune-Missouri

 “Have you heard the TSA’s new slogan?’ We handle more junk than eBay.'” –Jay Leno

The TSA has issued some special packing tips for travelers before Thanksgiving weekend. They say not to bring food, sharp tools, or any shred of dignity.” –Jimmy Fallon

“It was bad enough when the TSA agents would go through your underwear in your luggage. Now they’re going through your underwear while you’re wearing it.” –Jay Leno

“You can opt out of the full-body scan and choose the alternative, letting the TSA touch your T&A. It’s just like an 8th grade basement make-out party, except instead of your mother interrupting, she’s getting stroked in the next line.” –Stephen Colbert

“There was supposed to be a protest, but nobody opted out of the full-body scans, maybe because of the signs TSA posted: ‘If you are embarrassed by your penis size, you may opt out of being scanned.'”–Jimmy Kimmel

TSA Terrorists won Mike Keefe Cagle Cartoons

Used by Permission:   Mike Keefe, Cagle Cartoons

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
16 Comments

Posted by on September 9, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , ,