Jun 14, 2019
Knife Box
There are times when things stack up. It's almost like an incident causes a "wow" in the energy around us, and this attracts something else that leads to something else. Not very often do we do battle with just one thing, it attracts others, our energy is wiggly, we make stupid choices, things don't fit. If it's something we never experienced before it requires almost an instant response and if we are in the middle of one of those battle stages there is a good chance the response will not be good! But as a rule once we have battled our way out of one of those low spots, we come out stronger... wounded, yes, but stronger. We always learn something. I guess that's a good thing.
I was already in a bad mood. As I sat there looking out the window of the airplane watching us get lower and lower toward the ocean I thought, 'oh great... make a bad week even worse! Crash the stupid thing!' Then, like the story of my life, at the last minute land appeared below us and we touched down... that quick. The approach to the landing strip was the ocean. Any other time I would have thought 'wow that was amazing!' But not today. Not in the mood for touchy, last minute landings. I had been run out of Las Vegas by my step-mother who did not want my sister and me to be there to bury our father who had died about a week after I had left my husband. I had no job and was couch surfing with anyone who would let me stay, flew to Vegas to pay respects to my father, and now was being told my sister and I had to rush quickly to the other side of the San Francisco airport where the flight to Seattle would be waiting for us! Great... great trip. I did not feel all that bad about not being there for Dad's funeral. He didn't pay that much attention to us after he left our family to marry the woman next door and have two more daughters. But 'the woman' never made any bones about the fact she did not like us! In spite of it all, through the years, everyone had at least tried to stay polite, play the game with decent manners. But now that he was gone she, the woman, had no reason to be polite anymore. No more games had to be played. Even though there were four girls and two families involved, all expectations were removed. It was almost a relief.
Once we landed in San Francisco the flight attendant told us the best way to get to the other side of the airport where the other flight was waiting. Luckily we had carry-on baggage so once out of the plane, we headed through the airport at a run. Of course we got lost a few times but all things considered we made good time and got to the waiting room for the flight to Portland-Seattle as the last few people were going through the security check. This was before the dangerous times where people carried bombs in their shoes, but everything was routinely checked for anything that was not allowed. This would be the sixth security check on our trip and of course there would be no problems because nothing had changed. Or so I thought. I plopped my bags on the ramp that went through the X-ray machine, went through the security gate, and stood there waiting for my bags. I was feeling irritated but also relieved that we made it to this flight on time and this would be the last time we would have to go through all the rigmarole to get on a plane. So when the security man grabbed my purse and said loudly: "SWITCHBLADE!" I stood there looking around me wondering who he was talking about! Me?! He reached into my purse and took out my knife. Yes it looked like a switchblade but it was just a cheap souvenir knife I had bought years ago on the Seattle boardwalk for a dollar! I used it to clean my fingernails and cut string and no one had ever mentioned it before!
"It's not a switchblade", I yelled as I reached out and grabbed it out of his hand. I thought the poor man was going to have a heart attack. He jumped back and held his arms up as defense as I opened the knife and held it up for everyone to see. "See?! It opens like any other knife! It's not a switchblade, its my pocket knife!" I closed it and handed it back to him. It took him a minute to regain his composure but once he did it was apparent he was determined to make me pay for my 'attack' !
"Yes", he said loudly as he held it up with the blade open, "But it is 1 inch longer than the legal size to take on to the plane!" I lost my temper.
" Every man in this room has a pocket knife but you are going to take mine away from me because its one inch longer!? How much more damage can one inch do!?" I demanded!
He stood with his arms folded and said: "You will not take this knife on the plane!" Everyone in the room was staring at me. The plane was loading and I was holding up the take-off. My sister quietly asked me to just let it go, that it was time to get home.
I stood staring at the man holding my knife. "What are you going to do with it?" I demanded.
He reached down and picked up a small empty box and said, "I will put it on the plane". I was so angry. Angry at everything. How can you box a knife and put it in baggage? Why was the world picking on me. Finally I had to just let go. "Do whatever you want." I snapped as I picked up my baggage and walked out the door. It wasn't losing the knife, it was just one more thing that had gone sideways in the last few weeks. I guess there is a time to just let go. Everyone was looking at me with irritation and my sister refused to walk next to me, but we got on the plane and took off for Portland and I turned the world off.
When we landed in Portland most of the people got off the plane including my sister but I was one of the three people who stayed on the plane finishing the last leg of the journey to Seattle. It felt good to be alone. I sat and had a good cry without disturbing anyone. Right after we took off the pilot came on the speaker saying if we wanted to see something cool, we would be flying over Mt. St. Helens, the volcano that had exploded not that many years ago. I looked off in the distance and saw several of the Oregon/Washington mountains but could not make out the one he mentioned until I looked directly down... and there it was, right under the plane, the crater of an exploded volcano directly under me! It felt like I could reach out and touch it. My mood eased up. Just because things explode does not mean they are done...they just change. When the plane landed and I walked toward the exit, I noticed the cockpit door was open and the pilot was sitting there holding a small box... my knife box. He grinned at me, handed me the box and I laughed. I guess my current explosion did not mean life was over...it had just changed me a little.
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License# 133466182 Date: Nov 30, 2018
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