Excellent Senior Citizen's humorous events at TSA check in A Trip to Dallas by Henry King Share Your Story contest entry Artwork by ChuckWaxman at FanArtReview.com

My cell phone rang. It was my daughter. "Hi Cheryl, how are you?" "I'm fine dad. How are you?" "I'm good also. What's happening in Odessa?" "I need you to go with me to a medical appointment in Dallas. It's a consultation concerning a tumor on a nerve in my ear. I have two appointments on Monday the 25th. One at 8:30 AM with an audiologist and the other at 1:30 PM with a surgeon. Laura can't go because she has semifinals. Rue can't go because it's the beginning of his annual inventory." I couldn't refuse her. Within the past year I had a complete left shoulder removal, reversal and replacement. I also had cataracts removed from both eyes. My sons and daughters alternating, came to El Paso to take care of me. Six weeks for my shoulder and two weeks for my eyes. "I can drive to Odessa on Saturday and we can drive to Dallas on Sunday." "Why don't we meet at Love Field Sunday. Spend the night in a hotel and fly out of Love Monday evening?" "That's even better. I'll call Brian and ask if he could be our chauffer on Sunday and Monday. If he can't, I'll rent a car. When your flight is booked, call me. I'll synchronize my arrival time with yours. Do you have a hotel?" "I am trying to book a hotel near the Medical Center. The one most reasonably priced is $90 per room. It is one and a half miles from the Center. Another one, a mile away, charges $300 per night. I am on SWA Flight 598. It will arrive at Love at 8:45 AM. I'll depart Monday at 8:10 PM." "Get the 90 buck room. I'll text you my itinerary." "Good, dad. See you in Dallas next week. Love you." "Tell Rue and Laura hello. Love you too. Bye." Okay, I'm booked. Thinking my way through next week, I'll miss PT class on Monday. I can make that up on Tuesday. The last time I flew to Dallas, the TSA gave me problems over my shoulder. Where's that documentation? Yeah, last year's tax folder. The Threat Level is one higher, because of those attacks last week in Europe. Oh yes, passengers aged seventy-five years and over do not have to take their shoes off. The itinerary says get to the airport two hours before flight time. I'll leave the house at 4:15 AM to get to the airport by 4:30. Montana Avenue won't have much traffic until 5:30 AM. I'll get a burrito and coffee for breakfast, after I go through the TSA inspection. Checking again, only ten minutes later, my Boarding Pass is still on my phone. Sunday morning, I entered the Short Term parking lot, because I was going to be away one night. There was plenty of parking near Baggage Claim. At the top of the escalator, I found just a few people ahead of me at the TSA Check-In. This is going to be easy. After my ID and Boarding Pass were scanned, I showed the TSA Agent my surgery documents. "Show them to the Agent at the X-ray machine," he said. The line slowed and began to lengthen. There was problems with some of the baggage contents ahead. Looking behind me, I noticed three large bearded men dressed in khakis, a young woman was between us. The men had rucksacks and long plastic tubes as carry-ons. Mmm, I thought. What's in those tubes? I put my wallet, belt and phone in the tray. My carry-on was placed just behind my tray on the rack. Yes, all my pockets were empty. A dog handling Agent, disgruntled looking, was coming up the line. Good, he going to check the three guys out. What? He just passed them by. He stopped by me. "Why do you have your shoes on?" He asked. "I'm over seventy-five, Sir." "Let me see your ID." "Here, I'm eighty." "You don't look it." "Thank you, Sir." The guy was at least fifty years younger than me. Then I heard, "Step into the machine, put your feet in the yellow foot prints and raise your arms over your head." I responded, "I have an artificial shoulder." "Step out of the machine, spread your legs and spread your arms wide, parallel to the ground." The Agent squeezed my left shoulder hard, asking, "What do you have behind your left shoulder?" "I have nothing behind my left shoulder, except for my shirt, Sir." "No. There is a ball with a spike." "That's my artificial shoulder. Sir." "Why didn't you tell the Agent who checked your Boarding Pass?" "I did. Sir. He told me to tell you." "Okay, you pass." After picking up my tray and carry-on bag, I moved to a seat to get my kit in order. All the tray rattling and murmur of voices ceased. I looked back. The three bearded men were unscrewing their plastic tubes. Were they going to shoot the place up? No, the tubes held fishing rods. The people weren't looking at the three men. They were looking across the hall from me. They were looking at the young woman. Her well-shaped bare legs were long and they went all the way up to her... She was bent over, with one foot up on a chair, buckling on a seven-inch platform stilt. Her other foot, bare, was tip-toed on the floor. A leather mini-skirt was gathered at her waist. She was wearing bright cherry-red underwear. Author Notes I thank Chuck Waxman for permitting his outstanding picture, Bags for Sale, to be used. To protect them, I changed my family members' names. The medical appointments went well. My son took a one-day vacation and drove us around. It was a nice family get-together. The return flight was upsetting, but that is another story.

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