The Gate

I hate the gate! You have to take off your shoes, which is always a tricky feat after a few morning cocktails  and there’s always a hassle. Today it involved some guy who was pissed off that he couldn’t take two quarts of Fanta grape soda on his flight with him. He looked straight out of central casting for the movie, “Deliverance.” This river don’t go to Aintry, Mister.

I had to get my wallet x-rayed for some reason and then I was put to the side and was told I would have to be, “pat down.”

I dutifully put my hands up in the air, got patted down by a grizzled, old veteran of airport screening duties. When I asked if it was extra for a happy ending, he just scowled at me. I took my wallet and bag and ran to the gate which was just boarding...