Mistakes were made

New York City meets Munich

November 29th, 2001 · No Comments · Uncategorized

A flag goes up

It’s rarely good when you are paged in an airport. With less than a half hour to board my flight to Munich, I really don’t want anything to go wrong. I wait for a moment, hoping that it only sounded like my name.

Again, I hear it played over the speaker in the gate area. Crap. I walk up to the counter, where two women are busy dealing with other passengers. A thin, wiry man, standing idle behind them, perks up when I approach the counter and identify myself.

“Excuse me, sir, could you come with me?”

“Is there a problem? I’m supposed to board soon.”

“No problem, sir. Please, if you could.” He gestures politely but firmly for me to follow him.

I’m escorted back to near the security checkpoint at the entrance of the concourse. I’ve got a bad feeling. He leads me to a discreet, unmarked door. We navigate through some narrow halls, and arrive at a small, sterile room which has a desk and some uncomfortable chairs. He asks me to take a seat.

I glance at my watch. Shit.

The guy from before returns with older, fat guy, who sits behind the desk. Bruskly, he asks for my passport. He peers at it closely like it’s a piece of fine art he’s appraising.

“My flight boards soon. Is there a problem?” I ask.

He starts asking questions. Why am I going to Munich? Who do I know there? Have I been before? I answer each bluntly and simply. Yes, these guys are doing their job, but why they hell are they bothering me?

“Mr. Shaffer, did you pack your own bags?”

Oh geez.

“Yes,” I say, “I did pack my own bags. I made sure to pack my bags full of kinky sexy toys. Would you like to know where to buy some? Looking to spice up things at home?”

He coughs.

“Sex toys?”

“While there may be some scary looking leather restraints in there, I don’t think you’ll find too many Muslim fundamentalists who travel with a vibrating butt plug. I think you’re confusing ‘pervert’ with ‘terrorist’.”

Thank God I don’t own the HotBoxx, or they’d think it was some sort of bomb.

“I’m afraid we can’t let you board the plane.”

“You have to be shitting me. Look. I can prove it. Pull your pants down, and get over my lap, and I’ll spank you. I’m not dangerous, just kinky.”

The wiry guy standing behind me at the door pipes up. “I think that would be a good test.”

…and I wake up screaming.

Did I mention I’m flying to Munich in two weeks? I don’t think I’ll pack the handcuffs in the toy bag this time.

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