Fahrenheit wha?

Sigh. Rest is over. Back to the grind. But first, what would Her Crankiness do without letting out a little rant?

We step back to a week ago as I made my way through the LBB airport. All I wanted to do was get out of Dodge the simplest way possible and in one piece. This means I packed light--one carry on, no laptop, flip flops for an easy toss into the xray bin. I figured I'd be through the line in a jiffy, ready to head for the mesas. Wrong.

A husky woman and her little henchwoman stopped me with the flip of a blue latexed hand (two by two, hands of blue). Husky says, "Do you have books in there?" Stunned, I say, "Um, yes." She motions to Igora to start the ransack process.

"How many?"
"I'm sorry, wha..."
"How many books?" She's impatient at this point, adjusting her belt and sucking in her gut.

"Um, 2"
"Really? 2?" She looks at Igora who laughs a sort of half whimper--meheheh, meheheh
"Yeah, 2."
Husky cocks one eyebrow up and looks at me with the reprimanding teacher look.
"Well, I mean, I've got a writing journal and a notebook, too, bu..."
"Aha!"
[I'm thinking Aha what?]

So they flip through my books and begin questioning me about them. The conversation on my end goes something like this: Lolita, you know, Nabokov? Humbert Humbert steals a girl's soul? yeah, ok, well suffice it to say it's a classic. and the other? oh yeah, it's Reading Lolita in Tehran. It's written by a professor who teaches a group of students in her home...you know, really, they're just books, you know? I mean, can I have my books back?

I don't think I was much more eloquent than that. Perhaps I was, but as I recall, I was just in an absolute stupor, and every ounce of my mental reserves went to restraining myself from calling them both dumbasses and telling them to get their azure hands off my fucking books.

I'm still pretty miffed about this. What's ironic about the whole thing, however, is that as I got on the plane and opened up Reading Lolita, I read a passage about how her books were confiscated at the airport in Tehran.

Anyway, it's over, but it still puts me in the foulest mood. I cannot believe I am living in this place. I feel like Cincinnatus C stuck in a prison with a paper moon, a plastic spider and a jailer who wants to dance with me, defend me, and execute me simultaneously. Fucking ridiculous this place is.