The Gimp Travels

I went to Vegas this weekend for a much needed "vacation".  Vacation is in quotations because it involved no relaxing at all, and I now need another one recover.  Anyhow, it was tons of fun, so the recovery is worth it.

Part one of the cast adventure started at the airport.  I'm usually extremely discombobulated when it comes to airport security.  I always forget to take my laptop out or put something in a plastic bag or get undressed completely, so I dread this part of traveling.  Well, Friday, I was prepared and in an extremely good mood.  So I wore slip-on shoes, no belt, and made sure all my liquids were LESS than 3 ounces.  My ID was easily accessible in my back pocket, and both my bags fit in the x-ray machine.  Yes, I have been rejected from security before because my bag wouldn't fit...it's embarrassing.  Needless to say, my stupid broken wrist was the last thing on my mind.

Leave it up to airport security to make sure I didn't forget that I am handicapped.  After walking through the metal detector, they pulled me aside.  I figured they would examine my cast, see that it was signed by a bunch of 15 year olds (and one 35 year old), and let me be on my merry way.  Nope.  First they swabbed by whole arm with those round white pieces of paper that are supposed to detect bomb residue.  I don't believe they do anything at all in the first place, but I went with it.  No big deal.  I was now going to be released, right?  Wrong again.  They then brought me into the back of security in a private room.  Visions of a cavity search instantly flashed before my eyes.  I nervously said, "Wow, you guys really don't like people with broken limbs, huh?"  The woman just blankly looked back at me and said "Well, MA'M, people from other countries try to smuggle weapons in their casts, so we take it very seriously. Just be happy you aren't in a full body cast."  Oops.  Shouldn't have said that.  But thanks for putting my injury into perspective, TSA lady. I remember the shoe bomber dude, but I don't recall anyone ever smuggling weapons on a plane with a cast...whatever.  Luckily, there was no cavity search.  She did, however, do 3 full x-rays of my arm and examined them all very closely.  I was tempted to ask her for a copy of them to take to my next doctor's appointment.  I've decided I will just buy a cheap flight every 3 weeks for the next few months and get my x-rays done that way.  It's probably cheaper than the ones at the doctor's office.

So I made it through security in one piece.  I will vow that from now on, I will not complain about taking the bobby pins out of my hair before I enter security.  It could always be worse.  I just can't wait until I get to do this at the Memphis Airport next week-those idiots are the WORST.

I am not a slot machine person.  My grandmother taught me well- slot machines will just suck away your money.  I do, however, love the tables (another lesson from Granny).  Dealers are generally great, friendly people, but every SINGLE dealer asked about my cast.  I guess it's a natural question to ask when making conversation, but it did get annoying.  Give it a rest, people.  One dealer (her name was Linda, and she looked like she has dyed her hair and smoked for the last 250 years) said "What do you wear that for?"  I was confused.  What do people in casts usually wear a cast for?  I thought that was common knowledge...so I responded "Oh, this is part of my outfit.  It's all the rage these days."  Then she took my money.  She tried to make it seem like it was the fault of the cards, but I think she was trying to get back at me for being a smart ass again.  I'm starting to understand why someone signed my cast "pompa inteligente" (Spanish for "smart ass")

Lady at the Harrah's cash out area: "What'd you do?  Punch a boy in the face?"
Me: "Actually, yes."
Lady: "Good job girl!"
She instantly became my favorite person, because no one else has believed that story.

Countdown to tentative cast removal: 34 days down.  50 to go.