no luggage, merely a carry on

“Excuse me sir, will you be checking any luggage?”

“No, just a carry on…I don’t have any real baggage,
only a chip on my shoulder that I take everywhere I go”
“Oh I’m sorry sir, we can’t let you through security with that…it makes you seem too creepy to the other passengers and it will make them uncomfortable, the females especially.”

“Well why should I be punished for someone else being unable to distinguish between my nonexistent yet perceived creepiness via the chip on my shoulder along with my well documented peter pan syndrome(and possibly undiagnosed asbergers some would say) vs. the all too real trauma and tomfoolery soon to be unleashed upon their unsuspecting hearts by actual real life versions of creepy dudes. ”

“Sir, that’s not our policy. Nobody cares, and you’re holding up the line. Please move along before I have to call security.”

So one of the great things about going out now is that I hardly recognize anyone. Years ago I had accumulated so many enemies and animosities in social circles that it would make attending a party or going to the bar the equivalent of an unpleasant psychological stress test. I would always have to worry about running into people that I didn’t want to see, avoiding certain areas places and rooms because I had simply accumulated too much baggage. The good news is 99% of those people are long goners, and so I’m in a sense “a free man.” The sense of freedom does not last so long as I’m already beginning to accumulate new baggage. However, I’m not the same person I was back then as I’ve learned to appreciate the humor in such circumstances which balances out some of the anxiety which in turn mitigates what would have once been panic and sheer horror. Seriously. I used to avoid entire regions of the city to not have to run into ex girlfriends. I once referred to downtown Phoenix as “North Vietnam” because a girl I had dated lived there and every once in a while I would get roped into going to the area by a friend for a show at Modified or maybe a trip to Bikini Lounge, and I literally felt like I was deep in enemy territory and could be tortured, sniped, maimed or have to see her at any given moment!

Fast forward to the now.

The trade off is of course that you’re on your own. That person who you used to dread having to small talk with was at least someone you knew, a familiar face and one of your own. At least when you ran into your ex-girlfriend out with a random dude and experienced the humiliation of knowing you couldn’t even get a girl who couldn’t even get that guy…
I mean at least you all watched the same cartoons when you were kids(“High up in the trees we’re the Monchichis, Monchichis!”) and you didn’t feel like some rogue time traveling secret agent here to spy from another generation.

Now you just stand there all creepylike and like a vampire hoping to use your acquired powers of charm to suck the youth out of someone to keep you feeling young a while longer. That reminds me, I’ve often wondered if vampires would have trouble getting served alcohol since they live so long that bartenders would not believe their IDs were valid.
“Sorry pal, but you don’t look 720 years old to me!”

The trade off is one I accept of course. Getting in the mix and making friends with the new crocodiles is all part of the deal. No excess baggage, just what I can carry on.

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