What's in the Bag, Hag?

And with all the waiting and fretting and wringing of hands, somehow the days have passed and the time has come for Scott and I to take our trip to Key West. Oh thank God --- it could not have come at a more perfect time.

Friday after work I race home to get some waxing accomplished and treat myself to a spa quality pedi. I love the feeling of stepping out with new feet, especially to the beach. Oh my God, the beach! I can hardly wait.

Scott arrives and I have already packed. Truth be told, I've been packed for two weeks. It isn't hard to take your flip flops, sandals, bikinis, white jeans and shorts out of circulation for a few weeks in February. I have two neatly packed carry-on bags. And room for souvenirs. Scott and I don't plan to check a thing, just breeze onto and off of the plane in record time. Maximize the sunshine.

We step out for beers at a local pub and turn in early. The alarm is set for 3:30 a.m. Our flight is at 5:30. We want to be on the road at 4.

I am awake and brushing my teeth at 3:20. Having showered the night before, my hair is gleaming and blown out straight. I am moisturized and self-tanned to perfection. My outfit laid out already. Loose jeans and a light cardulemaer a short sleeved shirt. A scarf and spring jacket will sustain me enroute to the airport even in this weather. Scott is warming up the car by 3:45.

We are on our way.

The lady at Security who checked our documents was lovely and jovial. I could tell she liked our couple-i-ness. The guy checking our belongings was as miserable as a Death Row inmate. Barking out orders about shoe removal and toiletry bags. Making me remove my belt, sweater, jacket, scarf, and watch, and still making me get into the futuristic Death Chamber to x-ray view my bra and panties for suspicious packages and other contraband. He was much nicer to Scott. I suspect he suspected I was his hag.

And now I know why.

While waiting at the gate for boarding to begin, I decide to use the ladies room and avoid the unpleasant Death Chamber at 36,000 feet. And naturally, I used the lovely facilities there to wash my hands afterwards. And looking up to admire my Florida-bound fabulousness once more before parting, I am stunned at my appearance.

In the car ride here, I have turned into a hag.