“Har har.”
* * *
Finally arriving at the airport, Lottie and I get out of the truck. After a goodbye for now hug, I send flying kisses Lottie’s way and start my walk toward the airline counter. Since I can remember, my parents have planned an annual winter getaway for the three of us. The past destinations have included different Caribbean islands, the Rocky Mountains, an African safari, and many other bucket list items.
But this year, my mom wanted to see the real Santa. As in Santa Claus, Father Christmas, Saint Nicholas, or whatever you like to call him. And as it stands, my dad thinks my mom deserves the best, so he agreed that it’s time to visit Santa. When we searched for the best place to do so, it became apparent that there was only one place to be: Lapland, Finland.
And that’s why I’m catching the direct flight to the Nordic country I couldn’t even place on the map less than two months ago (it’s between Sweden and Russia in Northern Europe, for those wondering). I’ll meet my parents at the airport once they land and we’ll board our final flight to Lapland, in the northern part of Finland, together.
After checking in my two bags, one mostly filled with snow gear and warm clothes, I make my way to the security line. It takes over half an hour as the airport is busier than usual during the holiday week.
“Ticket and your ID, please,” the male TSA agent asks in a bored voice. He must love his job…not.
I start going through the pockets of my bag, panicking. “Wait, I just had it—”
“Miss, please step aside if you don’t have your ticket and ID ready,” he motions to the left, where there are some empty tables.
“I swear, they’re just here,” I mumble and look again. “Aha—what did I tell you?” I say triumphantly as I show him my printed ticket and passport.
“You just earned yourself an additional screening, miss. Please put your bag on the belt. Liquids, your jacket and shoes, and large electronics should be in a separate bin before walking through the detector. After that, find your way to the screening area with the monitor, where my colleague will be waiting for you.”
I want to roll my eyes, but there’s no point, so I plaster a wide fake smile on my lips. “Thanks, sir. Happy holidays!”
He doesn’t wish it back.Jackass.I still do as he said, and everything goes smoothly…until the second TSA agent opens my bag in front of everyone, and the first thing anyone with good eyesight can spot is my bright pink vibrator.Why didn’t I at least pack it inside one of those discreet pouches they send with new sex toys?
And just as my luck would have it, the damn thing turns on, buzzing away like it’s enjoying the situation, unlike me. It doesn’t help that next to my battery-operated boyfriend is a small bag for my miscellaneous items that saysGood vibes onlyon its side.
My cheeks blazing, I move my hand toward the sex toy I packed for lonely nights on our trip, but the TSA agent stops me. “Do not touch anything in the bag, miss.”
“But my vibr—” I start before realizing what I was about to blurt out. “Can you, um, turn it off, please?”
That makes him laugh sarcastically. “Sure, just a moment.”
He takes another pair of latex gloves and makes a show out of putting them on. All the while, my vibrator keeps doing what it was created to do. I can see people turning our way, and a pair of teenage boys are snickering, pointing my way. I also catch a glance of a hot blonde man who walks past me, a grin plastered on his face.
Great, just great. I can’t believe this is happening. I want to disappear from this fiasco. I should have left the vibrator at home or packed it in one of my other suitcases. But it’s too late now.
The TSA agent finally manages to turn off the vibrator, but he doesn’t stop there. He starts inspecting the toy, holding it up to the light and turning it around in his latex-covered hands.
“Excuse me, but that’s unnecessary,” I sternly say to him.
“We need to make sure that you don’t bring any restricted items to the plane.”
I can feel the heat rising in my face, and my body is trembling with mortification. “Please, I need to go.”
Maybe it is my pleas or how I must look stressed out, but the TSA agent puts my vibrator back in my carry-on with a smirk.
“Enjoy your flight and holidays, miss,” he says, not helping me lift the bag from the table.
I grab it and hurry away, my face still burning with embarrassment. I wish I could just forget this happened and move on.
Fuck my life or me. I don’t care at this point.
* * *
After the debacle at the security check, I try my best to keep my face down so that nobody who witnessed my embarrassment will spot me. It’s better to keep a low profile until I get to the lounge area, where I can drown in my awkwardness.
Too bad my plan doesn’t work too long as my phone rings and my mom’s ringtone, the Imperial March, starts blasting from my bag. I totally forgot to switch it to silent earlier today—shit.
