Part II: The Gate

It took about four seconds to get through security. That is the first time that's ever happened.

Then it took about forty minutes to walk to my gate. It was literally the last one in the entire airport. Like, the sequence was random gate, random gate, my gate, WALL.

It was already crowded in the waiting area, and I sat down and took out my book, preparing for the two hour wait. The book was just cover, though, because really I was scoping out possible terrorists and thinking through my technique for stabbing said terrorists with knitting needles.

It occurred to me that I was indulging in some racial profiling, and then I felt guilty. This made me mad, because I don't like feeling guilty; I prefer to view the world with a robot-like lack of emotion.

Someone made an announcement to the effect that everyone carrying over $10,000 in cash should see a customs officer.

I immediately began speculating as to why someone would carry over $10,000 in cash.

1. to pay an assassin
2. to bribe an official
3. to blow on hookers and weed (the flight, after all, was going to Amsterdam)
4. to buy slaves
5. to buy wives

You can see that my mind travels down a specific road.

There was an entire family wearing hospital masks. It made me feel normal; usually I'm the most OCD person in the room.

I went to the bathroom approximately fourteen times.

I tried to predict who would have the seat next to mine. My money was on the lady with the baby.

I looked around and thought, "If I were going to marry one of these men, which would it be?" I narrowed it down to one of the three with the $10,000. *(robot-like lack of emotion)*

When the announcement came to begin boarding, I went to the bathroom one more time, then got in line.

I was finally on my way.

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