Airport Rules are your Big Q Tip of the Day

Here's a Big Q Tip when dealing with certain planes at the airport.

Been getting requests from the relatives to come back to North Dakota again. Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl. Not that I don't want to see the family; it's just regrets are the “bouillon base” of life’s soup.. Getting there, that's the stress factor. Driving takes days, and flying? Good grief, could you imagine the fights in the aisles when my 500-pound ass comes walking down to sit next to you for 3 hours?

Whenever I think of airports I always have the same flashback.

There was a time when I worked a “real” job.  Had to wear dress clothes, even shoes that shined. I know -tough to picture, but it happened.  I’m not proud, but there comes a time in everyone’s life when they have to compromise.  Sure, there are times that I wish it could have been something more dignified, like porn, but regrets are the “bouillon base” of life’s soup. (Did I mention that already?)

Anyway, it should be stated that I’ve been blessed with two attributes: humor and work ethic.  One will get you fired. The other will get you promoted.  Well before I got fired, I got promoted.

I was part of the training team that got to travel to other cities.  At this time I was not as “large” as I am now, I’d say I was tipping the scales at around 250.  Big, but heck, I’d kill a cat to be at that weight right now.

One of the towns I had to travel to was Scottsbluff, Nebraska.  For those who don’t know, it’s on the west side of Nebraska, near the South Dakota/Wyoming/Colorado border.  To get there from Minot, North Dakota, you first have to fly into Minneapolis and stay there for most of the day.  You’d then fly to Denver.  It might be different now, but in early 90’s the “planes” that went to Scottsbluff had what the Wright Brothers called “that spinning thing in front”.  We call them propellers.  Good for boat motors, scary for planes.

Well, when I was boarding the “Buddy Holly” express, the ticket people were asking how much each of us weighed.  I’m far from intelligent, but I knew why they were asking.  It was so we didn’t fall from the sky and die a horrible death.

It seems that I was alone in that realization.  The ladies were struck with vanity at a very bad time.  I’m hearing them say their weight and I’m adding in my head how much they’re low balling it. By the time it got to me, I also had to lie, but in a life saving way.

“And what do you weigh sir?”

“450," I say.

They looked at me like I was lying.  Of course I’m lying! Do you really believe Lucy Love Handles here is 110?

The Big Q Tip: Don’t lie about your weight at an airport.  Lives are depending on your honesty.   You have a great day!